Pleiadian Skies

 

Pleiadian Skies

Pleiadian skies beryl and white,

an ocean of stars a glow,

pouring over the mountain tops,

to streams and rivers below.

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Artwork created on Night Cafe

Rumors from the Attica Flutes

Rumors from the Attica Flutes

There’s a storm of fire gone unseen

hidden behind the shadow’s screen;

right here on this planet earth

the place that holds what we are worth.

An anxious and a sinful place,

controlled and made by human race,

where every greedy thought takes root

and made a unit of law to boot.

Where Attica flutes of hades sing

those sour notes of cutting strings

that swallow all the gods through fear

in cyber orbit above this sphere.

Such iron bars do now unfold,

with Cerberus guard dogs that they hold,

that fiber optic censored glow

invoking AI storms below.

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About this Poem: Inspired by a Henry David Thoreau poem called,

“Rumors From An Aeolian Harp”

The Morning Veil

 

Photo Credit to "Mandy Lea"

The Morning Veil

Sun breaks through the morning veil

bathes the flowers in golden hale,

florets rise with arms outstretched

embrace their God of life and death.

Rising higher, to mountain row

radiant praise, essence aglow

sunflowers sing their glorious tune,

a cycle of life, by sun and moon.

There they stay until sun goes down

hushed to sleep on silver ground,

bathe in moon beams, dew and rain

and wait for God to come again.

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Wolf Spirit

 

Wolf Spirit

Rhythm of drums brought the fog

consciousness of the wolf,

summoned spirit of the warrior

he chooses who he comes to see,

for bravery, courage and resilience

are the words he speaks.

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Waiting

 

Waiting

Comfort shades brown peering eyes,

there amongst the scent of birch.

Hidden under greying skies

and autumn leaves upon a perch.

Snug and safe from hunter’s game

but ready should the need arise,

to tap into his sturdy frame,

despite the smallness of his size.

A quickened pulse then in his chest

as trappers near, he holds his breath.

Lessons learned now put to test,

one false move could be his death.

There inside he sees it all,

traps are set amongst the grass.

Plans a route to warren hall,

waits until the hunter’s pass.

Silence reigns as sun goes down

a calm return to forest dome

to then emerge from underground

seeking comfort of his home.

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The Ancient Forge of Magic Rings

 

The Ancient Forge of Magic Rings

Celestial fires washed away

the golden age of Argonauts

where magic things long forgotten

remain but ashes of old thoughts.

I stood in wonder, mesmerized

in the cave I had discovered.

An ancient place deep underground

with artifacts I recovered.

Beryllium rings, crowned with stones

of ruby and blue sapphire,

for kings and queens and overlords,

that were forged by dragon’s fire.

Twelve magic bands with scrolls attached

concealed in a granite box

with embossed designs in ancient tongue

on layered metamorphic rock.

I stumbled on this hidden place

that was filled with bygone things

in the Monteregian mountains

the ancient forge of magic rings.

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The Phoenix Moon

 

The Phoenix Moon

When the phoenix moon rises

and bald eagle takes wing

the timber wolf howls

and mountain fires spring,

Aphrodite will return,

heaven will once again sing

covering earth in warmth

and renewal it will bring.

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He Who Walks a Different Path

 

He Who Walks a Different Path

Beneath the mountains and the strath

came, he who walks a different path

a gentle being of Mohawk mind

who felt for others and was kind.

Yet from his village he did roam

into the forest he called home

he talked to birds of every girth

all the creatures that walked the earth.

The bond that grew made them his friends

an understanding with amends

a mortal conscious bond and call

with promise to protect them all.

One day his world was set aflame

when hunters of the village came

and took his closest conscious friend

his grief and anger would not mend.

He believed all life was deserving

sentient life was worth preserving

so, when the hunters came that day

he told his friends to run away.

The starving hunters soon caught on

when all their prey had left and gone

chased, he who walks a different path

into the mountains with their wrath.

Up at the top, with feelings grim

where just the clouds could visit him

there were no creatures, and few birds

when sadness came and took his words.

He felt alone, began to pray

asked God to take his grief away

upon the highest mountain range

his body then began to change.

Creator blessed him for staying true

to purpose he was tasked to do

the given task when he was born

God changed him then from human form.

A golden eagle then took the skies

with soaring spirit and conscious eyes

above the mountains and the strath

flew, he who walks a different path.

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About this Poem: Inspired by a Mohawk legend about a boy who turned into an eagle.

Inspired by KiiskeeN'tum (She Who Remembers)
Turtle Island Centre Family Services
Manitoba, Canada

Link to Story: How the Eagle first came to the people

Fall of the EU

 

Fall of the E.U.

Bit by bit the E.U. fell,

just couldn't shake that hubris spell.

So strong together, such a farce

gone shot themselves in the arse.

That's quite alright, because you can vote

for candidates shoved down your throat.

All little demons of the WEF;

to people’s needs they’re blind and deaf.

They cut your gas and cut your oil

while agriculture rots and spoils

under rainbow flags of ascension,

you’ll never get that promised pension.

Forced into debt without delay

each nation labeled as the prey.

Sanctions placed on those defiant

till vassal states become compliant.

"Gimme, gimme", Ukraine needs more,

that little scavenger makes you poor.

Boil, bubble, inflation trouble,

you’re eating less, while rents are double.

So don’t complain as cities burn,

you voted for that beasts return,

with leeches given final say,

on sovereignty they’ve washed away.

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The Activist Poet

The Northern Kingdom

 

The Northern Kingdom

The northern kingdom welcomed me

when I stood there in its morning glow

with arching limbs of forest trees

adorned with winters finest snow.

A crystal sea of ivory,

a gemstone treasure of the north

lay before astonished me

enticed my yearning to wander forth.

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