©2021 Michael Raven
silent stand like stone our eyes turned towards the sea towards the mists a gentle breeze waiting for the sun to slip beneath the waves
poems
Ever notice that most people never really like reading poetry? Perhaps there is a reason.
raven queen/
©2021 Michael Raven
mor rig ana great queen ana tuatha dé danann tuatha dé ana tribe of ana tribe of... earth soil soul blood and soil fáil destiny filled onyx stone first kiss a raven then fuck a crone all the same all the same it doesn't matter in the end... sovereignty her gift alone not my gift blessing skill blessing song blessing words my raven fyjia her ears and eyes and her... ana macha nemain my patron queen of death queen of life queen of sex death... now i know your haunting face in the flurry of your wings now i know your name sleep... sleep... sleep...
morningsong/
©2021 Michael Raven
cardinal song morning rising with the sun the sky full of wonder
idir eatarthu/
©2021 Michael Raven
neither dog
nor wolf
neither day
nor night
gloamwalking
between worlds
between dark
and light
burning hearth
spirits breathe
shadows
full of life
chant/
©2021 Michael Raven
hawthorn, hag stone piercing mists bone woad & wood bark tongue, black skin burrow painted song eye jaundice i pricking brier heart burr aching dark blood heart rent fetid muscle burst screaming sinew in the heavy rain all cats are grey
questions/
©2021 Michael Raven
grendel got a bad rap the more one digs between the lines into the mud into the caves into the dark places where secrets lie
northward; tools/
©2021 Michael Raven
river-polished obsidian laying velvet smooth in the grass rubbing with a thumb like a worry stone i add it to my bag the bells ring loud
shadow walking/
©2021 Michael Raven
i walked
through the dolmans
with footsteps like thunder
on shadowed stones north
in the night mists
a flurry of feather
marking my way
no laughter from
the silent conspiracy
watching in my wake
me,
cræfting my wyrd
a secret garden/
©2005, 2021 Michael Raven
my heart is black, cancerous and decayed…
tenterhooks, pull back unveil
the rent fibres, the judas bonds
relayed, the crying cradled child
what tension, my aching soul?
what fugue, my dancing fingers?
the languishing betrays
secret hanging gardens
brambled &
gone to seed…
my heart is grey, ashen and filled with dust…
a chronic smoker’s ragged cough
throwing out
the blowing desert sands
what vast ocean can quench this thirst?
what rushing river washes the spasms?
the garden,
ravished by shadow armies
laid
to waste…
my heart is bleeding red, ragged and torn
cut in velvet and pasted poorly, not sewn
pierced through and through with hatpins
beating arrhythmic
broken…
the garden walls fall in silence
questions
unspoken…
untitled from 03oct1996/
©1996, 2021 Michael Raven
the sun came dancing through
mystic autumn fog
the fairy frozen crystal
encased grass
oak
and lilac
silence throbbing melody
-- the new day
quietly rising...
and her ghost is still here
her fingers gently tangled in the hair
in the back of my head
and her hand resting upon my hips
her lips occasionally kissing my neck
voices of children waiting for buses
break the spell...
There are things I’d change about this one these days, but left it as is. The image is the original from a notebook.
