Your heart — Cereal & Gardenal

Fernanda W spins and embroider’s powerful imagery in this poem.

Portuguese/English Eu sei o que se passa ai dentro Vejo o sangue que escorre Pelas laminas cravadas em teu coração Eu vejo daqui tuas feridas O cheiro de sua tristeza vem no vento Tudo dói, quando não dói é vazio Noites seguidas por mais noites Pés cimentados numa realidade aspera Um quarto desarrumado, cheirando a […]

via Your heart — Cereal & Gardenal

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Cold Bone and Ash — Brave and Reckless

Raw, powerful and heartwrenching poetry from the Brave and Reckless blog. It makes you feel alive with a vengeance.

I did not mean to breathe in your toxic air studded with accusations but my gas mask failed and your cloud of words penetrated like the discharge from a shotgun full of metal pellets Unable to discern objective truth from your self-serving fictions my lungs are left full to bursting with particulate gray mist that […]

via Cold Bone and Ash — Brave and Reckless

A common misconception? — The Silent Eye

A timely find! Sumeria is the focus of the journey next year.

“….so, this year it is Shakespeare and the Elizabethan Court, and next year we’ll be in Sumeria.” Running around getting things organised for the workshops always involves the attempted acquisition of some strange items. I frequently get asked what I’m hoping to use them for and that inevitably leads to questions about what we […]

via A common misconception? — The Silent Eye

Creation: Footprints #writephoto

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Image: Sue Vincent

My offering for Sue’s Thursday Photo Prompt #writephoto returns to the watery abyss, Abzu,  of ancient Sumeria. I have taken liberties with the mythology of these beings, so apologies are due:

They slumber, dreaming, planning, and weaving.

There is only eternal silence,  audible to none save those who exist only in the space between. 

Enki sees all, yet holds back speech, yearns to mould creation yet to be fulfilled.

Tiamat and Abzu have mated, cause the Primeval Waters to stir. Thus did their children emerge, thus did battles ensue, and thus did treachery unfold.

Enki sees all, waits for resolution. Peers through bloodstained waters, mourns over sacrificial body, and offers prayers to one now gone. “Be at rest Tiamat” he whispers. 

The ones who are Hidden emerge, peer at life nascent, taste rich waters, pour forth fire spiralling. Creation falls from thoughts shrouded.

So does the magic begin, spells are woven, flesh, blood and sinew knitted. The chants goes out, so emerge new beings. 

Abzu fulfills, Enki proposes. Thus did their creation rise from watery abyss, place unsteady feet on land freshly risen.

Thus were footprints engraved on virgin territory. Thus did rise humanity, creation of those who slumber, dreaming, planning, and weaving.

Thus did the eternal silence end. Thus did creation unfold.

 

Walking the Labyrinth

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My thoughts now return to the Knight Templar who began his journey in this blog some time ago, perhaps even before the Shed was an entity. The man is at heart a hermit, relinquishing the outer world in order to pursue greater goals of the spirit. Such an endeavour doesn’t always go to plan, and many times his feet have faltered.

Since his meeting with the Lightbearer a profound change has occurred, revealing another part of the Labyrinth being walked. This time his mission is to find the Sacred Bull at the heart of the Labyrinth. The Bull has been a primordial symbol of kingship, fertility, strength, the Sun, the land and power. It’s also symbolic of the solar, masculine, and generative energies of sky gods; additionally the animal is often the power animal of either a high priest or leader.

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janeb13, Pixabay

What will the Knight Templar find as he approaches the mystery at the heart of the Labyrinth?

The Great Bull slumbers at the heart of the Universe. His dreams call to the chosen ones, ending illusionary lives and false realities. He bellows and calls down thunder and lightning, hooves make the Earth tremble, call upon chthonic powers, and illuminate shadowed paths. Both dark and light meet, keep equilibrium, stay the hand of misrule and bring about order.

This and more has the Knight Templar dreamed each night, the intensity of his dream walking shattering soul and sanity, pushing him to the edge of the precipice, then pulling him back. Is there any hope left for him? He questions this and more. Yet, the trial continues. Yet, the potency of knowledge poured into him increases.

He sees ancient hands daubed in ochre, call into being ancestral cattle, the first Aurochs of primordial time. Such vitality runs through their veins, life incarnate and bestower of power. The Storyteller speaks and the Caller of Spirits dances, both conjure ancestral voices, seek their wisdom and beseech guidance.

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PublicDomainPictures, Pixabay

What will the Knight Templar find as he approaches the mystery at the heart of the Labyrinth?

Soon his feet meet a closed path, one that is not to be traversed, and one he’s not ready to tread. So does he double back, yet another path closes, another path opens. The Light ebbs and flows, the Light teaches clarity of vision, to look beyond barriers, push doors barring. The Labyrinth speaks, the in breath brings endings, and the out breath brings beginnings.

“Soon, soon” it tells him. The end of his journey comes, waits in the heart of the path he’s traversed. Waits deep within the brain, in a place never seen and never known. The Light flows towards him, gathers up, pushes onwards. “Soon, soon” it tells him. The rhythm is ceaseless, the breath is hypnotic, both Knight Templar and Sacred Bull are one.

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PublicDomainPictures, Pixabay

What will the Knight Templar find as he approaches the mystery at the heart of the Labyrinth?

The Great Bull slumbers at the heart of the Universe. His dreams call to the chosen ones, ending illusionary lives and false realities. He bellows and calls down thunder and lightning, hooves make the Earth tremble, call upon chthonic powers, and illuminate shadowed paths. Both dark and light meet, keep equilibrium, stay the hand of misrule and bring about order.

There is always reconciliation of opposites.

Both Knight Templar and Sacred Bull are finally One.

We leave this transcendent experience, perhaps filled with questions. At least for one person some of these questions have been answered. What waits for him outside of the Labyrinth now?

 

Special Call for Submissions from Whisper and the Roar — Go Dog Go Café

The Whisper and the Roar Collective is seeking submissions for an upcoming series on the global exploitation of women. We are accepting poetry, prose, fiction, personal narratives, and essays on these topics from around the globe. We are looking for writing that makes us feel, makes us think, that moves us. April 15th– April 21st […]

via Special Call for Submissions from Whisper and the Roar — Go Dog Go Café

So It Begins: A Story Is Born

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Katzenfee50, Pixabay

Does anyone else have difficulty with finding an appropriate title for their posts? The majority of mine loiter expectantly, try to catch my eye and impress with their marketing ploys. This one lingers in the background reticently and then fixes me with a hypnotic gaze. I’m intrigued and beckon them to come forward.

They exude a sense of melancholy and passion. What are they going to reveal? I’m given hints of old roses, musk, sandalwood, myrrh and honey.  Other scents are carried on winds that have swept in from parched lands waiting for the kiss of rain. A romantic image to be sure, yet it captures the imagination like a lover’s gaze.

I see a red rose placed on a leather-bound book. An offering worthy of the attentions of one’s heart. Fingers gently open the pages and alight on a particular page. The words shimmer and invite further exploration. A hand hovers above the beautifully crafted composition. These are wise words from the Persian Sufi poet Hafiz (Khwāja Šamsu d-Dīn Muḥammad Hāfez-e Šīrāzī):

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The breath catches in the throat and I acknowledge the truth of what he says. The sleeping beauty of one’s heart flutters like the wings of a caged bird; sings its song of sepia memories, emotion filled and pained. Hands glide over the chest and pull away the thornless rambling rose. There is no sacrifice to be made on this occasion, no drops of blood offered for the transmutation. The alchemy has already begun.

Hands caress the sleeping heart, waken it from a deep sleep, kiss away hurts, offer up potent perfumes and heady wines. Love is lavished upon the wakened beauty, and a world of Light poured upon the sacred altar in its innermost being. So it begins, it is purified and made whole, ready to glide over the vastness of a world waiting on its presence. So it begins, the breath of life taken inwards, initiating new purpose.

So it begins, a story of endless corridors in a mansion filled with sunlight. A place of whispered conversations and unbridled laughter. Hear the flutter of doves’ wings and water cascading from fountains. Truly a place of paradisiacal beauty.

The imagination is captured in a lover’s gaze and the Story is written. Is there more to come?

I was initially finding it quite difficult to come up with something meaningful. Several versions were scrapped and on the last attempt the words were thrown down like a carpet of petals. What a relief!

So ends the Story, a promise is fulfilled and a writer’s thirst quenched.

Just Be… — a cooking pot and twisted tales

Quit making yourself small in order to fit into the image that someone else wants you to become. #BeExtra #BeYou #BeAuthentic pixabay.com

Wise words from Jacqueline, and ones I wished had been taken to heart in my youth.

viaJust Be… — a cooking pot and twisted tales

Round the bend — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

An experience that will resonate with many of us. Can you recall seeing this particular white van driver on your travels.? In Sue’s words:

“I found myself working as a white van driver, terrorising the roads and learning my trade in the baptismal fire of motorways and the streets of unfamiliar cities.”

I was going to learn to drive… that was my first priority on reaching the age of eighteen. I filled out the forms, posted the letter and waited for the provisional licence to arrive. It came a few days before we were due to go on holiday, touring in the south of England with a […]

via Round the bend — Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo

Hunger – Twittering Tale #79 – 10 April 2018

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Photo by leoperezwildadventure at Pixabay.com

My twisted offering for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tale:

They chattered excitedly. The weekend was going to be a riot, except for one person.

His hallucinations were disturbing. The intense Moon wasn’t helping.

The beast was filled with hunger, wanted flesh. Wanted it now. He was turning and no one could stop it. It was finally free!

(278 characters)

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