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Pagan Paul Oct 2018
Tumbling stones rumble unheard,
a slide that sends gravity shifting,
starting a new path through time,
the butterfly effect begins shifting.

The ancient track
is solid beneath her feet,
though she has walked
between the stars.
She knows not the place
but has been there before,
And the trail wends its way
through forest dense and dark
to a hags tooth mound
and the Tomb of Travellers,
upon the stone door
an inscription, a warning.
'Prepare to go everywhere.
Prepare to go nowhere'

“Let time take me wither it will,
be it fluid or be it still”.

The slow grating of stone on stone
as the door swings open,
light penetrating the gloom,
and the Tomb reveals its treasures.
She enters with reverence
and moves to a vacant plinth,
a marbled seat warm and empty,
her place for the connection ritual.

A mix of herbs into a secret potion,
preparing herself to swim Time's ocean,
clear cool water to bathe her skin,
awaiting the pendulum of life to swing.
The symbols in her third eye complete,
she eases so gently into her travel seat,
bringing the brew to her expectant lips,
a bitter taste as over her tongue it slips.

Oh gently rock her mind to sleep,
just one last barrier for her to leap,
through Times gate to other places,
as the drug through her mind races.

A small squat figure emerges
in a midnight blue hooded robe,
Grimly the Guardian of the Gate,
carrying careful an ancient globe.
And her eyes glow with wonder
as she receives the Seers Sphere,
cloudy with the hue of pearl,
its significance is so crystal clear.

She places it in a depression
in the arm of the marbled chair,
settles herself and closes her eyes,
letting her mind drift on the air.
The connection ritual reaching ******,
acceptance or rejection time is near.
Will the bond form betwixt them?
She places her hand on the Seers Sphere …

© Pagan Paul (30/09/18)
Poem 4 in Judderwitch series.
This, and part 2, is a small diversion from the nastiness and gore
to explain how she time travels, how the Seers Sphere is an
elemental force and sentient, but needs a 'vehicle' to work.

My Judderwitch poems are now in a collection :)
treble Aug 2018
A seer's nightmare
her own demise
sulphur, iron, and fire
she sees as she ceases to exist
A tug of roses, peony, and rosemary
a seer's dream
her own grave
fungi and maggots
she disappears
my seer
Thomas Davies Aug 2018
Ek skrik die 10de Augustus wakker.
Iets voel verkeerd, so swaar, so leeg.
Met 'n knop in my keel raak my gemoed swakker.
Min het ek geweet, dat treur so swaar kon weeg.

Vaagweg **** ek, "I look to you"
"And when melodies are gone"
"I hear you in a song"

Ouma was ons eie Whitney Houston
Haar sterk gees was ons rots.
Al het ons met tye lekker koppe gebots.
Sy was my vestiging, ons familie se trots.

Mag die rose in Bloemfontein altyd ouma se naam onthou.
Die pragtige rooikop dogtertjie in liefde toegevou.
Ouma se omgee het my soveel keer gered.
Die dankbaarheid gekoester in my mooiste gebed.

Mag die voëltjies altyd bly sing
Terwyl ouma se stories mooi herinneringe bring
Ouma was altyd bereid om te help
Vol genade het ouma, harde harte versmelt

Mag oupa altyd verlief bly
Sodat ons verdwaaldes, ook die regte prentjie kan kry
'n 53 - jaar, onvoorwaarlike liefde verhaal
So opreg, en eerlik, die mooiste mylpaal

Dankie dat ouma my aanvaar het vir wie ek is
Al sit ek heel wat die potte mis
Dankie vir alles wat ek by ouma kon leer
Dankie vir elke drukkie, vergifnis, keer op keer.

Dankie vir elke koppie soet tee
Vir al die miljoene trane wat ouma moes afvee
Dankie dat julle vir my alles kon gee
Dat hulle harte net liefde kon skree

Dankie dat ouma my veilig kon hou
Ons verlang alreeds, en sal verewig onthou.
Ons bly, onvoorwaarlik lief vir jou.

Ek gaan ouma mis, al my liefde, Thomas.
Written by myself and Kayla Hofmeyr
Pauper of Prose Aug 2018
Solid Sapphire mined on foreign soil
Is broken and scattered upon your dress
As you accompany your friends to a ball
Flaunting emeralds in your ears
The music spins and you shimmer
Growing brighter at times then dimmer
All the while you search for another person
So that you can form a pair
Like two perfect rhymes
Dancing within a madness,
Of uneven melody
Kuvar Jun 2018
Here is a check
To take to a bank
Miles far away from the bank
I am yet to bank
Tell me where in the world
Would I deposit a check
Bouncing the banks out
With no No numbers
Not even Roman numerals
tell me
Where to deposit this check
with the sign of your heart
So have I come to realize
With a stern rose at sunset
I will come kneeling before you
Please take my love back
Let’s make love in the river bank
I am still waiting to deposit this check of mine in your heart my love
Vexren4000 Apr 2018
A sight into the future,
A slighted citation,
Seem by a seer,
Who in today's age,
Would be ******,
As a madman.

Selcæiös Feb 2018
The Name's Selcæiös N.V. Witega

The N.V.'ll only **** you if you're a curious cat.

   Your Tech-Age Völva
Onliest Healer
Avant-garde Seeress
& Upping the Ante
Once under my Wing
--a Sui Generis sorta catalyst

   But take note,
I'm only here for your healing
---and occasionally to quench the thirst
for all types of Second Sight
weaving, seething, and
any and all other appealing witchy hype

   And this niche in the Craft
Contingently consecrates
--you know. when it rains, it pours--
the Superseding of Spirit;

   Under the Utopia of Unorthodox Psychotomimetic Wonders
enthralled by your scintillating mishap to wander
Gracefully falling face-first into
     The Empath's Curse
in other words, to come to terms with Sonder

   Dyed in the wool
lies the
Fluorescent & Incanting Sparks
of the
outre wanders

   To me though,
It's vividly violent & evincing
Capitulated roars,
Sequestered howls,

   Once Upon a Time
the proud growls morphed
to crying whines
   'Carpe Omnis Scintilla'
In Perpetuum,
to no avail.

  Your Sui Generis Hedge-Rider
Call me Selaecios N.V.
or Selcaeia, if you like
the sting of serpentine strides

  I'll proudly continue to
uphold this chaotically labile path
as it's my Labyrinthine Rite

  Taking under Wing
Protecting & Defending
Fellow Humans & Spirits alike.
I cannot see the end in front of me?



Something about two buckets of soil...



How does the Seer work?

Do You





Why are my skinned eyes?

...crows, crows, crows, crows

Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
Poets dig up thoughts  .  .  .
From much higher than themselves,        
  .  .  .  Yanking subconscious.

— The End —