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Filomena Mar 4
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage

She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage

As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?


When she put them away
she had cart loads to say
and the guides of her writing
stayed by her for days!
Late evening Thu. Mar. 3, 2022.
This more optimistic version was written immediately after the first.
So mote it be!
Filomena Mar 4
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage

She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage

As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?


When she put them away
she had nothing to say
and the guides of her writing
were silent for days
Late evening of Thu. Mar. 3, 2022
This pessimistic version was written first.
Sonorant Jul 2021
Banished before thon barren plains,
Where treacherous tears abstain
Fare. Fair is the waste,
The impurity of deep, decrepit weeds.
And dage brings fruit then touched
Only by their ravens of rot.
May they paint thine tainted stave
In golden garth and lull the lark;
“Mine, Sweet babe,
Robbed of cradle
Readied for ritual.
Mine, Sweet babe,
Gore masked black
Within the crimson bath.”
Lacen their throats, the gullets that gloat!
Lest langes of thorns, wrap the bairn sworn.
Death breeds glore o’er luid nights
Beldam rise belles in wicked repel.
Round the funeral pyre.
Zoe Grace Jun 2021
I am drawn to it
Theres no doubt
Now that ive glimpsed behind the curtain
Theres no way I could live without

The wisdom there, the fantasy
All grounded within reality
Cleanse a room with a loud noise
Poise is no longer mandatory

Crystals, carving sigils
This is where I belong
After so long
I have finally found a place
About a month ago, it drew me in. I feel an intangible but irresistible connection.
stillhuman Mar 2021
There is something in the air
no more ice nor vampire lairs
The sun rules over night
and brings forth all things bright
And the flowers greet him with glee
all shining and rising among the ****
As the maiden smiles to her tummy
her child smiles back in the shape of a bunny
It's the breath of spring,
balance and growth with it brings
So let us blossom my dear
make our intention and power clear
Merry Ostara to all who celebrate. To those who don't, I wish you to blossom this spring
noah Dec 2020
(okay so i understand if you cant source these things naturally but its much better if you do)

so my go-to tea base is a blend of rose hips, allspice, and chicory for general good vibes

and for nice winter-y vibes this solstice you can add cinnamon sticks, clove, and dried orange peels for added comfort and prosperity in the new year
BONUS: add a teeny tiny bit of arrowroot for ultra good vibes and a sweeter flavor :)
if u add too much it will thicken and turn super gross so be VERY careful babes <3
J Dec 2020
it's raining again.
It's been raining a lot lately.
I rush outside with jars usually,
tonight I sit under
and I fill myself up.
my hair clings to my neck
my face
my soul.
I close my eyes,
dipping myself in and out of
the sky's tears
in hopes that she'll never recognize
the difference if I were
to be extracting tears of my own.
There will soon be no distinction
between me and the wet.
catching a breath, I peer up
I blink so much I'm surprised I can find the clouds
They shield Gaia from the cold
I count the stars, though I mistake
the majority of raindrops for the plasma.
So I tilt down,
face to Hell
my hair curtains around me
as if a cat had torn them into nothing but
clumpy pieces of string,
and recognize the puddle of a person,
through blurry sockets,
that I can no longer hide from.
I'm in a weird writing mood. I don't write many long things anymore, though, as we see
rachel martin Nov 2020
The weight of the guilt I have
For the things I said about you before you died
Sit on my chest
Press me to death like a Salem witch.
Every time I drink I indulge in my tears
That I have no right to;
All I cared about when you were alive was vengeance for the way
You made me feel,
When I should’ve thanked you for opening my eyes
And I should’ve looked right through you
With open eyes-
And seen that you were dying inside.
I wrote that you were dead to me,
Not intending it quite literally
Not wanting for awhile
I manifested that for you-
I await my witch trial.
Might delete
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