Cat’s breath

Second poem, equally rapid and even stranger. The message is in the last line.

 

Cat’s breath devoured

with velvet kiss

this tiny prisoner.

This universe is not so vast

that we can fly

the fever-eye, magic look,

picture or perfumed poison.

Stars of ice melt

in a smoke-red sky,

pouring salt in the wounds.

 

Go heal. Make life laugh.

 

 

 

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Hot sky and rain music

The Oracle rattled off two rather strange poems this morning. This is the first.

 

How hot the sky,

no need for light,

when even shadows suit

these pink times.

One rose on the rock shines;

storm waxes fast then blows away,

sleeps, to the sweet music

of the rain.

 

Fish magic and rain petals

Late consulting the Oracle this week. We lost internet on Thursday and just got it back. Two strange poems. I take what comes.

 

Water runs on frantic feet

from rain to river,

sunshine and shadow,

filling the spring sky

with sea spray,

blue as rose petals,

pink as honey—

our ship will not rust

in this sweet light.

 

You cannot fool fish

come to die in this red glass ocean.

An air of peace surrounds them

as they fly into the sky,

singing their sad songs.

Let laughter rhythm this morning

with the sacred voice of time.

 

 

 

Fiery mother

This is obviously in honour of Brigid and all mothers.

 

The lake is a picture,

one of my mother’s,

like gardens full of roses.

She would sit in the shadows

of diamond light,

singing her life to the sky.

Come rain, shine, or stormy days,

when the moon runs purple

and the sea is drunk with sun,

she still plays the music of mist and moon.

 

I ask the fiery woman,

what is this odour of decay

when all is greening?

Never has morning broken

so slow to warm with colour,

the night sky linger hard as ice.

Listen and remember, she says,

the song of the universe is vaster

than anything men  or gods can make.

 

The dark star smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blood runs faster than rain

I forgot to use the ‘original’ word set this morning when I consulted the Oracle, and tried to use it this evening. Twice she swiped the poem clear before I finished, both very strange and dark. This is the third attempt.

 

You said you wanted a lazy life,

a ship drifting on purple seas,

no need to see the shadows

that smear the sky

or petals dropping one by one

into the water,

but we are in this storm together,

the moon does not shine for us alone,

and blood runs faster than rain.

 

A cup in the river

Just checking in to see if the Oracle had a message for me this weekend.

 

I dip a cup

in the cool of the river

where fat fish listen

in their secret haunts

and I ask for peace

in the fire of this world

and would you be there

when I wake,

after its all over, join me

flying home?

To drink morning flowers

My WP is behaving strangely today (again). The daily stats graph shows today’s date in the middle, followed by consecutive days starting with October 27 and ending with November 13. October 27 is my mother’s birthday. I wondered if the Oracle had a message for me. She did.

 

You always desired harmony,

to embrace the colours

of life and laughter

to drink morning flowers

rather than champagne,

to listen for the child

crying in the night,

to kiss away the tears

of all the world.