Cricks Rants
This effort is dedicated to T, who is my devil's advocate/sage voice and to Dan and Nya who round out my rather jagged Irish edges.
Mind Meditations:
Some Really bad Poems
A Deep Sigh
Have you felt the love of our Mother?
Gently touching all aspects of life
Like the soft caress of a mild breeze
A fleeting ray of sunshine
Her sadness deepens at the course of things
Like a gray cloud stretched across the sky
A deep sigh of understanding
The balance of life forever changing
Her children stumbling all about
Rage and anger our daily fare
Voices rising in a chaotic din
No one stopping to listen
Faster and faster our lives become
Yet where is it that we are running to
Faces become a forgotten blur
Community becomes a lonely place
Brother and sister divided
Each clamoring to be the one
Where peace and harmony once ruled
All is now an emotional chasm
Janus looking to and fro
The Keepers of the gate are lost
Armies on the march
Humans stumbling in the mist
Bloodshed is our legacy
And we pretend to notice not
Justifying our dark deeds
The face of our Mother fades away
And yet, she waits in the shadows
Hoping for the day
When her children rediscovers her love
And thus regain their lost and darkened souls
Like a bright flame in the night
She offers us another chance
A way to find each other
Casting asunder the dark, in favor of the light
A Halloween night
Whispers in the night as the owls shiver with fright.
Snap of a twig, source unknown.
Dryads dance in the silence of the woods
Willow trees beckon to the souls of the dead.
Werewolves howl with blood curdling screams
Frothing at the mouth
Foulness fills the air
Running in packs across the dark plains
Trolls gathering beneath dank and musty bridges
Green claws scratching moss covered stones
Unwary travelers disappearing in the night
Oh the horrors of this night
Frost on the pumpkins out in the fields
Evil grins and slanted eyes
A look of malice
A treacherous laugh
Witches gathered around a cauldron so black
Ancient chants rise on the air
A mystery brew, bubbling ever so slowly
Are your children safe in bed?
Black dogs of the underworld
Amassing at the eerie crossroads
Hecate their queen, dark one of the night
On the search for lost souls
Bats flying by in the skies above
The scent of blood is in the air
Claws extended
Ready to plunge
A banshee wailing at the gate
Spirits crossing through the veil
A loud thump in the night
Oh my, what was that?
A straw filled scarecrow silently watching
Arms reach out, another child gone
Red eyed crows, laughing maliciously
Tonight we shall feast
Welcome to a world of things undead
A place without reason, full of fear
Where the secrets of the night lie in wait
Do you dare to venture out this dreary day?
A Spirit Free
The day has ended and with a sigh
I lay my body down ever so still
The mind is quietly put to rest
The spirit is free to soar ever so high
Human problems and travails are gone
Insults and harsh words
People acting out their fears
No need to worry, right or wrong
Spirit roams in a place free of hate
Petty human traits
A day of such experience
What shall be their fate?
Within that realm so much grief
People cursing and drawing swords
Trolls abound across the land
Fragile life is ever so brief
Yet spirit shall live in light so pure
No ignorance or lies
Such emotions unknown
One must wonder is love the cure
Petty egos abound in the night
He is master, no its she
Foolish humans have no clue
As spirit smiles and steps into the light
The soul takes up the body in the morn
Another day what shall it bring
More foolish pride or acts of wisdom
And thus another day is born
A Tale of Life
Have you heard the beating of the war drums?
Sadly Grandfather oak responded, yes I have little one
The squirrel started nervously running to and fro
Who are beating the drums of war?
Are we in danger, should we hide?
Grandfather Oak sighed and said; it is the humans again.
For whom do their war drums beat?
Would it be for the Dwarves way up North?
Those silent and sturdy folk, who reside in the far away mountains.
No little one it is not for the Dwarves.
Then it must be for the Elves who dwell in the West
Those magickal folk so quick with joyous wit
Their songs of life throughout the night
Alas little one it is not the Elves whose voices are so golden
Oh I know, it is the faeries of the East.
Why would humans rage war against them?
Children of the Goddess, their silvery wings always in motion
The old, wise oak sadly shook his head; no it is not the faeries for which the war drums beat
Oh Grandfather oak, it must be the Gnomes of the South
Those tiny folk who dwell in the Earth
Minding their families, and a great cup of ale to boot
Once again little one it is not against the gnomes that they march
But Grandfather Oak, against whom do they March?
Their chants of war and drums steady beating
Who do they seek to destroy?
Slow steps they take to a certain death
Listen quietly little one as I speak
It is humans marching upon humans
For rage and hatred is their fate.
They seek to destroy their own and to end their lives.
When a species has no love, the spirit cries out
And the humans have long ago hardened their hearts
Theirs is a life devoid of song
Such sadness and grief is their drink
The Goddess has given them a choice
But through life with closed eyes they walk
Greed and power the words of their song
Such pettiness is the mark of humans
But Grandfather Oak with your words of wisdom
Why do they not seek your counsel?
For then they would abate the drums of war
And realize their foolish ways
At this Grandfather Oak sadly smiled
The answer to that my little friend
Is that humans are humans
They no longer can see with their hearts!
They have closed their minds to the world around
They pursue false values of worth to none
The Mother cries but they do not hear
For that is what it is like to be a human
Gone is their connection to life
Gone is their connection to the Earth
And most of all my little friend
Gone is their connection to each other
A view of reasoning
As I stood upon the mountain, I looked out upon the open plain
I was hoping for some gentle rain, instead it radiated pain.
Down upon the plain were those we know as people
It was as if the bells of war were ringing from their steeple
I turned to my Gods above
And I asked where, is all of the love?
And my Gods answered in a booming voice
My child it has always been their personal choice
We give the breath of life
You have to choose love or strife
For life is not a game of chance
It is up to you to advance
We love you all very dearly
But you must see ever so clearly
If you wallow in hate and rage
You will never become the sage
For there is no right or wrong
Perhaps its here that you belong
Each of you must decide to take the walk
Though some will forever balk
For those that work through the pain
They will indeed feel the gentle rain
As I looked back upon the plain
Alas there was the loving rain
I am at peace with all of life
For I choose not, rage and strife
When the time is right
I will enter the light
And then it will be within my spiritual home
That I will once again set out to roam.
A Walk in the Woods
Meandering path, a moonlit night
Spirits about, oh what a sight
A warm summer breeze
magick betwixt the leaves
As I reach out to the moon
I see the old oak tree swoon
As I touch dear Mother Earth
I know I have found the secret hearth
Ancient chant and protective charm
this silent walk brings no harm
Great horned owl calls out to me
open your heart that you may see
God and Goddess are at my side
let all thats evil, run and hide
Devas dance in the lunar light
An old witch now walks in the night.
An Ode to Samhain
As the close of summers-end draws near
So begins a new cycle of the Wheel
A time to reflect on the year just past
Be honest and true without any fear
For life is like the last harvest of the three
From the womb of the Sacred Mother
So we begin our journey
Like an acorn falling from the old oak tree
A time when spirits travel to and fro
Our hearts are open and the door stands wide
A gathering of the generations
As we stop and listen our wisdom may grow
A time to meditate on the meaning of our lessons
Would those who have passed approve of our ways?
Are we reaching for the highest goal?
As Samhain nears, a spirit beckons
It's a time when the Goddess is feeling grief
Passing of the God, beginning of the year
As the cycle turns, so shall the God be reborn
The sadness of our Mother is but very brief
Samhain marks the Little Sun
Dark half of the year
A silent time of things to come
A time to celebrate and tears begin to run
Pass we must into Her light
We are all spokes on the Wheel of life
Walking through the realm as we must
But return we shall on Samhain night
Blessed be this special time
The realms are open
You have but to believe
And so shall end this special rhyme
