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  Oct 2018 Val Vik
Edmund black
Much like my dream
Poetry sanction me
To be anyone
and
everyone
I want to be

To
explore the places
In my mind’s eye
And dwell from the
Most magical place
In all the world

My
imagination


I like that!
  Oct 2018 Val Vik
nivek
Natures soundtrack
is beautifully humble
and waits for your silence.
  Oct 2018 Val Vik
hazem al jaber
Your eyes ...

your eyes ...
shines as stars ...
into me sky ...
in every night ...
i watch and dive ...
within your sweet eyes ...
till i fall asleep ...
to get you again ...
into my dreams ...
to light up my life ...
as you do always ..
through my all day ...

your eyes sweetheart ...
are a piece of paradise ...
as candles lights up ...
all a dark roads ...
to give a happiness...
to every one ...
who lost his way ...

yes angle ...
your eyes ...
are a hope to my life ...
are a happiness ...
and my world all ...
can't  live without seeing ...
every day and night ...
your eyes ...
i'm so crazy  ...
to your eyes ...
and i addicted to them ...

love you ...

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


i.
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'

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


iii.
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.

iv.
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.

v.
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.

vi.
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.

vii.
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 :)
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/28451/judderwitch/
PPx
.
  Oct 2018 Val Vik
Pagan Paul
.
Quiet! Shhh!
Can you hear it?
The animals are talking.
No, they are panicking.
Can you smell it?
The Forest is on fire.
My Forest is aflame!

I run, following nostrils singed with heat,
against the tide of the fleeing fauna.
Reaching the blaze I see....
eight of them.
My anger rises and erupts.
'STOP!' I bellow. They turn and draw swords.
My eyes narrow and a look of pure disdain unfolds.

I continue.
'I am Rook, Lord of the Forest Kingdom.
How dare you, enter my domain with no permission
and reek havoc on my Forest'.

A step is taken, toward me.
The eyes of a fighter glower, at me.
The point of a sword raises, threatening me.

I punish.
'For your transgressions and your destruction
you shall stand as stones, for eternity,
and as a warning to others'.

A scream pierces the air as a foot,
then another, compresses to rock.
The rest join the chorus, agony,
as each become statues,
twisted and contorted as
the Ancient Oaks they had destroyed.

My Oaks.
This is my Anger.
Would you care to see my Love?


© Pagan Paul (2018)
.
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