Poison Pen Letters to Myself (4 page)

BOOK: Poison Pen Letters to Myself
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Passing Through

Too many faces

Not enough names

Too many places

So many the same

Too much freedom

Not enough focus

Too many dreams

So many so hopeless

My life on my back

I carry my past with me

Feeling overexposed

But no one takes the time to see

Take me down

Take me in

All you see is my sore feet

Musings

Every time I see her

She makes me smile before I see her eyes

I cannot watch her dance without thinking of a thousand poetical words

They run through my mind

They pass too fast for my typing fingers

But remain linger and last

In ways I cannot explain

Her grace astounds me

Defying gravity

Silver fish in a rainbow river

She likes the

            Spaces

                    Between

                                 The

                                      Words

As much as the language itself

And this teaches me something new always

Lessons gentle, salty and severe

She speaks with an Elvish tongue

That only the trees can hear

I catch the whispering amongst the branches

As they all talk about her in ages past

They will continue to discuss her

In lives yet realised

I think she reflects a part of me

Not yet discovered

Like a sandcastle in the mind

Fragile and grainy

Not yet created

Until the summer months

But I like autumn

I like the way she looks

Like the leaves changing

Red gold green honey

She looks like the cold snappy refreshing days that brighten your cheeks

Warm your heart and bring blood

Rushing in response

To the morning breeze

I feel my blood sluggish now

Speeding up

Rushing

Weaving

Knitting together in my veins to re-create my soul

I am always surprised how one person

Can make such a difference without action, words or conscious inspiration

This is just one of the ways she appears to me

A muse

Undine

Hold my hand

Please walk along beside me

I am a cardinal water spirit

Fast flowing free

Let me take you underground

Into the caverns of the soul

If you can stop the tide I will give you back

Old opportunities you let go

I am kiss-of-life giving

I will second chance restore

Just hold my hand

And take a walk along my river

Uncertain

I was shocked and disbelieving

When you spoke to me

It was not like you whispered

Not like you crept into my bedroom at dawn and slowly roused me from sleep

You laughed and danced and shouted and skipped

Into my vision

You found me amusing

I challenged your very existence

Your right to reality

Well, can you blame me?

I was happy tucked up in abstract philosophy

Am happy with the concept of never, forever and always still

But you told me to doubt my own reality

You used my abstract against me

And should I find myself in existence

I should accept the possibilities

Being offered to me

I guess we should always accept the possibility of being wrong

Or right

Or unsure anymore

Well if you keep talking

I will have to keep listening

Hope
(For Mark)

I wanted to wake up in your arms

But I stole away under the soft moon

I wanted to lay and just hold you while you slept

But I was pulled away too soon

I wanted to listen to you breathing

I wanted to hear you speak

Of dreams yet unfulfilled

Of a life that could be better

Of a world that could be peaceful

Of me, and that I could be happy

If I could

I would

Go back

And kiss you before you kissed me

And although I know it can’t be

It was simple reality that made me

Happy

Unconscious Creativity

There is a divine comedy within creation

That encourages us to let go

Not to take ourselves too seriously

To simply go with the flow

For every time I raise my pen

And battle with the page

I demand my own creativity

Only to find I have nothing to say

But in the wee hours of darkness

When I am too tired to fight

Inspiration sneaks upon me

Fills my eyes with light

Blindly I stumble forth

All physical form left behind

And I see all the methods of

Painting between the lies

I hide a message of remembrance

Within every stroke of fate

To remind myself of divine

When hungry and paint covered, I awake…

Late

I heard my name

When you called me again today

But I am forever the rabbit late

And I merely ran away

It wasn’t until I stopped

And heard no sound upon the breeze

That I realised if I stopped listening

You would stop calling to me

Listening

She smiles at me

And in her eye I see

All the things she would say to me

If she but only had the words

Then again I am aware

Whenever I feel her near

That it is I who needs to hear

The stories I never heard

I raise my eyes

And seek her sight

And bathe within her soft light

To ease my troubled soul

I wax and wane

She does the same

And together we play the game

Of phases to become whole

Beyond Tomorrow

Within the fire we all become

Ancient man mesmerised

The simple tasks tire the hands

The good life, a hard life

There is no more bartering

Haggling, begging and coaxing

We are beyond the desire for more

No more hoping

Within the water we all become

The reason for living and loving

The fetch water carry wood

A philosophy of having

There is no more waterfall

Overspill, cascade of emotion

We are beyond the stagnant

Carried away in tidal motion

Within the earth we all become

A nurtured plant with face

Lifted towards the sun

Moving in place

There is no more receiving

Merely sowing and reaping

We are beyond the taking

Storing and heaping

Within the wind we all become

The cry of voices unleashed and free

The wind removes the wool from our eyes

And finally we can see

There is no more forgiving

No more ifs, buts, I wish, I need

We are beyond the arguments

It simply is, and we simply be

With

With the fire we burn to survive

With water we respect our lives

With earth we learn a new way

With the wind we sing a new day

This Light

I sit within the spotlight

The stage in darkness lies

Preparing to perform

The arts of times gone by

The light washes down

Upon my upturned face

My tools about me shine

Blessed by unearthly grace

Within the shadows I hear

Soft anticipating sighs

Waiting for my hands to move

And open up all eyes

And I feel blessed

Refreshed

And inspired to be

I craft

And bend

And prophesy

I spin

And weave

All manner of life

I bend

And blend

The Craft of the Wise

For this light is the perfect time

The blending of body and mind

A chance for us all to divine

Woven

Grandmother spider

Weave me a new web

One I can throw around me

Like a comfort

Cover it in morning dew

Let it sparkle in the sunlight

Let me tangle myself up in my dreams

Attract it all towards me

Fragile and strong

A lifetime long

And only a second of connection

Rose Petals

I fell to the earth

Upon roses made of thorns

Through the cloying fragrance and clawing dance

I learned to stand barefoot

And count every star in the sky

I stood under infinity

For but a second it seemed

And then I heard a song

It sang of love, loss, bittersweet razorblades of wisdom

It tasted salty to my tongue

Cold to my skin

Dry to my throat

But I breathed in every note

Until the razorblades heated molten through my bones

I jumped, skipped, stamped, clapped

And became the heart beat, drum beat

Violent and unafraid

Blazing, brazen, bold and brave

Frenzied I called out to the icy stars, the hare in the Moon

And stared down the Sun

Until my throat was sore

My eyes red raw

And my skin cracked under the intense heat

Then the tears of freedom became more than a release

Water to cleanse

Purify

Protect within the womb

Wash out the infected wound

Clear the air and nurture the growing life around us

I was dirty, sunburnt, sore, wrung out, wretched, wet and unable to speak

I was no longer afraid

I wrung out my hair and it smelt of rose petals

My Faith

As I sit here

Surrounded by soft light

This could be any day

Somewhen and never

Somewhere and nowhere

I smile into the stillness

And know that love and life revolves around this –

The moments of No Time and No Space

The hour long seconds of simple appreciation,

And I understand so little and yet so much,

For to know that we know so little makes us the wisest of all.

Little moments of clarity,

This is my faith

This is my belief

These precious seconds before life comes bustling back in.

About the Author

Romany Rivers is a wife, a sleep deprived mama, a human servant to a very mischievous cat, an artist, a Reiki Master and a Pagan High Priestess. British born and bred, Romany and her husband moved from the south of England to beautiful Nova Scotia, Canada, to pursue their dreams of a more sustainable, family focussed and rural lifestyle.

Romany has used writing, and in particular poetry, to make sense of the world around her from a very young age. As a Priestess and co-founder of Moon River Wicca, she has used poetry and modern interpretations of fairy tales in celebrations, festivals, and rituals to weave a lyrical melody into structured formats. Aside from her work as a Priestess, Artist and Author, she is also well known for her work in the holistic health community as a Reiki Master and Tarot Reader. Romany currently enjoys turning her hand to various arts and crafts; gardening and growing her own food; and watching her children discover the wondrous world around them.

This is Romany’s first published anthology of poetry. This selection covers a very personal journey through the years overcoming severe bouts of depression and consequently creating a more holistic lifestyle. The chapters
Red Letters
,
Return to Sender
and
Addressee Unknown
chronicle periods of depression and anxiety; anger and healing; and acceptance and spiritual growth. All of these poems are personal in nature, but Romany
believes that now is the time to share them with others. She hopes that the reader can find a connection with them, be that through empathy or understanding for themselves or for loved ones.

“Every journey is unique, but occasionally we find ourselves walking in each other’s footsteps.”

Romany

Moon Books invites you to begin or deepen your encounter with Paganism, in all its rich, creative, flourishing forms.

BOOK: Poison Pen Letters to Myself
3.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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