My lover is my soul image,
I told Dr Jung, the Self,
she who’s been calling me
towards her my whole life.
For my psyche
has never been whetted
by heterosexual love,
nor the image of a man.
Poetry Archives
Mama Monarch
Up the hill
and across the field,
behind red maple leaves
the Green Man watches
His Goddess,
busy in the nursery,
feeding, changing, singing
to Her children.
The Shepherd’s Daughter ~ A Red Book of One’s Own
Postscript
Full Harvest Moon blessings to all! Birthed under Oaktober’s magickal full moon, here’s the postscript to my second poetry collection, The Shepherd’s Daughter, my very own “Red Book”.
Writing my second book has been an unexpected joy!
November
Fireworks whistle past our ears,
lighting up the dark night
as sky-flowers, laden with stars,
blossom above the bonfire
in sparkling petals of starlight.
While hearts burst with joy,
November sets off with a bang
yet quickly fizzles in a flash.