longing

For My Faerie Sister

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Happy birthday yesterday to Alruna: The Flowers by Robert Louis Stevenson All the names I know from nurse:Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse,Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock,And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things,Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,Tiny trees for tiny dames–These must all be fairy names! Tiny woods below whose boughsShady fairies weave a house;Tiny … Read more

O Holy Night

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Peace XVIIIby Khalil Gibran The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of lightning, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature’s war had never been fought. At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and … Read more

Saturday Poetry

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Everywoman Her Own Theology— Alicia Ostriker I am nailing them up to the cathedral doorLike Martin Luther. Actually, no,I don’t want to resemble that Schmutzkopf(See Erik Erikson and N.O. BrownOn the Reformer’s anal aberrations,Not to mention his hatred of Jews and peasants),So I am thumbtacking these ninety-fiveTheses to the bulletin board in my kitchen. My … Read more

Saturday Poetry – W.B. Yeats

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The Soul of the Rose – John William WaterhouseTo the Rose Upon the Rood of Timefrom The Rose by W.B. Yeats. (1893) Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet eyed,Who cast round Fergus dreams, and … Read more

Sunday Poetry

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Mist-clad in the light of the moonStarspun seekers – I search for thee!Faery light – I ask thy boonOf branch and thorn and Elder tree!Wood woven creatures, shadow weaversRiver keepers – come to me!Just beyond reachingNever in keepingSpirits of Faery – I call unto thee!Wind-hewn wildnessDark and brightnessSpiral enchantments – born of the sky!Cradle me … Read more

Saturday Poetry – Goblin Feet

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Goblin Feet— J.R.R. Tolkein I am off down the roadWhere the fairy lanterns glowedAnd the little pretty flitter-mice are flyingA slender band of grayIt runs creepily awayAnd the hedges and the grasses are a-sighingThe air is full of wings,And of blundery beetle-thingsThat warn you with their whirring and their humming. O! I hear the tiny … Read more

Remembering April 25-27, 2003

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So sweet a changeling – Arthur Rackham The Changelingby Charlotte Mew Toll no bell for me, dear Father dear Mother,Waste no sighs;There are my sisters, there is my little brotherWho plays in the place called Paradise, Your children all, your children for ever;But I, so wild,Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,Never, I … Read more