Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Want

Posted: March 7, 2015 in Inner Journey, Poetry
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The Sensual Eye

The Sensual Eye

I don’t want to be here

I want to be there with you

Skin on skin

Dripping hot wax onto your flesh, cooling it with my breath

Scratching it off with my fingernails

I want hot lips and tongues leaving wet trails that cool into shivers

I want teeth nipping and biting

Fingers tangled in hair

I want to feel your body rise and reach towards my fingertips

I want back arching, lip biting, gasping, pushing, pulling, fighting for control, losing control love

Primal needs met in the language of moans and whimpers

Howling at the moon together

I want to feel possessed by passion

Lost in lust

Lose myself and find myself in the torture of touch

I want, I want, I want

(C) 2015 Romany Rivers

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Arise

Posted: March 2, 2015 in Inner Journey, Poetry
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Country Diary : Crows fly through branches of a tree
I awoke to a hundred crows perched upon the trees
Surrounding the boundaries of my property
Their cries harsh and hypnotic,
Falling over one another with the urge to speak.
A rhythm emerged, like clocks slowly syncing over time
Then silence sneaked in
Three lonely cries
And all did rise
Black upon the lightening sky
With drum beat of pounding wings
Leaving me windswept and reeling
Bereft in the quiet dawn

(c)2015 Romany Rivers

winter moon

The bitter breath of air whips the snow from its perch,
Lifting and twisting.
For the briefest moment the Spirit of Winter is made form,
White upon white before my eyes
The coldest kiss of an angel.

Carefully I reach into the depths and draw it from the darkness,

Lay it down upon the cutting board and reach for the knife

Piece by piece

Side by side

Slice and divide

A million pieces of my heart

Will it ever be enough?

Raw and wild, each fraction a reflection of the whole

Every part complete even when broken,

Divided,

Torn.

Beating under my fingertips as I witness each tiny offering

And gift my open heart upon open palm

So many ways to love

Flesh and form

Hearts and thoughts

Parts and whole

Snippets of soul

So many ways to love

A million pieces of my heart

A million ways to love

A million and counting

(c)2015 Romany Rivers

RIMG0269

I have heard these words before

Like raindrops running across my skin

Rolling along my body and falling to the floor in pools around me

I remember these words

I whisper them to my reflection in sadness and disbelief

But this time I hear them

There is a quality to his voice, a look in his eye

A sincerity upon his tongue that makes me pause

Look up

Look in

Look deeply

You are beautiful, he tells me

Inside and out

The droplets fall from my eyes and roll along my cheeks

But this time I stop their falling

I reach out and take them back into myself

Sad and salty upon my tongue

A bittersweet taste

I let them sink back into myself

Into the core of who I am

Nourish me

Fill me

Consume me from the inside out

You are beautiful, inside and out

 

 

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You are Beautiful (c) Romany Rivers 2014

 

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Autumn arrives

As my son cries

And places fallen leaf upon my outstretched fingertips

Fix the tree he pleads

The leaf

It fell over

Fix the tree

If only it were so simple

To kiss it better

To hug away the hurt

To ease the seasons sorrow

I wonder if his heart will break a little

With every red gold shiver

With every bitter breeze

With every leaf crunching underfoot

The tree is broken in his mind

How does one explain

The time and tides

The ebb and flow

The come and go

To brimming tear filled brown eyes?

Is it too hard a truth to learn so young

That some things cannot be undone?

I cannot fix the tree for him

And reality upon me dawns

Just as the time has come for leaves to change

The mighty Mama also falls

No longer magic touch

Healing all with simple love

There are things in life beyond a Mamas reach

She cannot even fix the tree

(c)2013 Romany Rivers

Blessings of the Autumn Equinox to you all! May the turning of the seasons bring you peace and bountiful harvests. Look out for the story behind this poem in the upcoming community book ‘Pagan Planet’ due for publication soon!

hearth altarWhen I was young, my little sister died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. There was less understanding back then, and even at my age I heard the whispers in the village. I saw my parents friends remove themselves from our lives, people talking about our family in hushed tones, my step-mother sat almost catatonic on the sofa staring out the window, my little brother confusing my baby dolls with our deceased sister. I stood by my sisters graveside, watching this tiny coffin lowered into the earth, and I felt angry that this big, sweaty priest who knew nothing about our family and yet dared to speak of my baby sister and our family grief. Through all this, I felt my sisters spirit still in the house. I was aware of her presence in ways that other family members were not and it confused everyone. I did not display the same grief as others, because for me a part of her was still with us and that gave me comfort. I felt isolated in my understanding that death was not the end. I felt confused and sad for the loss of my sister and the pain her death brought to our family. I felt comforted and relieved to know there was something more than flesh and bone. In grief and a desire for understanding, I looked for God. I wanted answers. I found no comfort or answers in the Christianity I was brought up around, so I started to explore alternative belief systems. By the time I was a teen, I was fully immersed in the exploration of Paganism, Buddhism, Taoism, Witchcraft, and techniques of awareness and spiritual development. Later I studied psychology, I travelled the world, I read voraciously and I talked to some fascinating people. Slowly I developed my own practice and personal spirituality that honoured my understanding of death and dying.

In my twenties, after a rather shocking spiritual experience, I dedicated myself to studying Wicca and Witchcraft. I developed a deeper understanding of magic and transformation, and I truly transformed my personal life. During my practice I would call upon the Lord and Lady, I would connect with the Masculine and Feminine Divine and the spectrum in between, and I could sense the power and presence of the Divine – yet I did not connect with specific deities. In fact I rather enjoyed discussing the reality of distinct and different Gods, or all Gods as one God, or Gods as archetypes, or Gods as entities, or Gods as universal energy. I talked and listened, and in private I formed no conclusions but continued to work with the very abstract concept of Divinity from an energy spectrum perspective. I was happy enough working with my abstract philosophy. That is until a Goddess spoke to me. (more…)

Imbolc

Deep in the belly of the earth life now stirs

Awakening within and shaking free of ice and snow

The Goddess carries the child of promise within her arms

Trailing light and warmth wherever he goes

Slowly the world awakens from its slumber

Pushing shadows back from long cold night

All around

Life abounds

Reaching out towards the growing light

Imbolc Craft: St. Brigid's Cross. By Amber Dorko Stopper

Imbolc Craft: St. Brigid’s Cross. By Amber Dorko Stopper

Imbolc Festival of Light

Welcome to the festival of light

Where springtime lies within our sight

Earth softens and milk flows

Babies are born, seeds are sown

Soon the thaws will flood the streams

And winter becomes the land of dreams

The Crone returns to the land of snow

And all around us light now grows

Hold high your flame, shine your light

Chase back the shadows and shrinking night

Prepare the path for spring to come

And rejoice now in the growing sun!

All text copyright. Romany Rivers (C) 2013. Text will appear within upcoming book: The Woven Word

Priviledge of AgeWhen I write or submit articles for magazines, I very often deal with people I have never met face to face, thanks to the wonders of modern technology. On many occasions, the editors have assumed that I am older than my years based upon the content and style of my work. Of course, I tell myself that is not a terrible thing, but I have always suggested one lives their truth – so here is my truth. The first few times it happened, I freaked. I was horrified that people would consider me much older than I am, and darn it I am certainly no Crone! Sure ages catches up with all of us, I am no longer as young as I was, and since having children I certainly feel like I leaped over a few years and rapidly increased in age – but really. I. Am. Not. Old. But even if I were, why should that matter? (more…)

The Lullaby of Astarte by Romany Rivers

The Lullaby of Astarte by Romany Rivers

For my daughter, who loves the stars.

Text: Romany Rivers (C) 2013