Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

'Tis the Season to be jolly - and in the lead up I've had little time to post.
With schools end, Christmas shopping, reading and writing in-between,
I've neglected this much-loved little house.
So, today I've allowed myself some time to come back and post a few poems
(that still need tweaking!).  No matter. 
I've had much fun with the Wicca & Vamp themes.
Blessings to you all for a wonderful season,
and from an old fashioned gal to anyone that meanders by,
take some time out for Judy <3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g4lY8Y3eoo

Painkiller Passion

On moonlit nights when woodlands are black
The game we play teasing, while running the track
It's blood lust, not pheromones that lead him to me
The rampant endorphins that simply won't be

He stalks me, I’m wild prey! He's poised for attack!
'Walk with me, kiss me', He feigns, I retract
His voice on these evenings entices me, fact
And when he bites down, damp earth bloods my back

I feel his weight on me, he drains me to snow
This painkiller passion, forever, in glow
My desire, so wicked, I need, he provides
But love’s never simple, when lovers don't die

Thirsty for blood, the forever of time

He’ll always be with me
Perpetually mine ...

Life After Twilight - Pardon the Pun

‘Twas Hotel Transylvania,
Where the blood games began,
Where The Count first proclaimed,
“I’m not a Vamp, man!”
Mr Barlow got busy, Bled Salem’s Lot dry,
And “Look at me teacher! Look!” he did cry.
True Blood HBO -
Thou shalt not crave thy neighbour -
Only True Blood is served
At Merlott’s and Fangtasia!
“Sookie’s Mine!” Bill Compton so proudly stakes claim,
But it’s Vampire Diaries,
Where Damon takes reign.
So Twilight, New Moon, and each Breaking Dawn
Wish for an Eclipse, and bring end to the mourn.

A Family Thing

It freshens the senses, the springtime breeze,
And fills pure hearts with newness and ease,
But it's during these nights that it brings me no rest,
When September winds put my creed to the test.

How does one get past the moment that's lost?
A relationship torn, burnt crisp - at such cost,
No longer this realm and no longer seen,
Except for these nights - things aren't what they seem!

Her voice, in whispers, she calls out my name,
I question its truth and whether I'm sane,
And hearing her now, so many years later,
It makes me recoil, compels me to hate her.

But the powers of Wicca are more than mere song,
My curse, it endures, through family bond,
And so I'm reminded, and so I will know,
How potent the blending of oak and mistletoe.

At each celebration, Ostara or 'nox,
I'm gifted a spell, been sealed in a box,
And Oh, I must try it! And Oh, so I see!
The powers bestowed me, the powers that be ...

And now when I see silver cat in a tree
~ I know she is with me ~
I know she's in me!

On Motherhood

Giving birth awakens something in women - a change of sorts in the values we keep, in what we respect and consider important. What struck me most on motherhood, without mentioning the demands and sacrifices involved (sorry - had to mention those!) is the willingness that comes when one is ‘in demand’. The energy that comes the moment labour begins, the crowning and burning, convinced your body simply won’t give passage. And then you see the miracle, slimy, puffy, blue-hued fingers, eyes that barely open - yet a mouth that opens wide. The baby needs you, relies upon you for nourishment and a sense of belonging. The amazing way in which one so small can impact on the way you feel about yourself, the way instinct takes hold – truly is incredible.

You have suddenly become so important, so beautiful in their eyes and so vital to their existence. The bullshit that once seemed to bother so much, now seems so unimportant – the small stuff, insignificant in comparison to this precious work of art.  It’s called family. Spirits bound by love - the building blocks to life. In sixteen years I have been blessed three times with the breathtaking task of giving birth. There is nothing quite like it, nothing more spectacular than seeing a child born of you and your partner – a tiny person of flesh, bones and spirit – from ourselves to become ones-self.
With breastfeeding, the bond for lifelong attachment begins.  It's an extension of the birthing experience - and one that, if possible, should never be missed.  Ever noticed how a newborn knows where to find a nipple, knows the scent of mother's milk? It's called instinct.

Creating life is a beautiful thing.  A gift. And there is nothing more delicious than nibbling on tiny toes, losing yourself in those trusting eyes, wiping the muck from a delicate nose, or massaging scented lotions into the soft creases of chubby thighs. Nothing more spectacular.

The Raven - The Ultimate Keeper of Secrets

Ravens are intelligent, clever mimics that have been known to learn human words.  Early Europeans feared the Raven and regarded them as bad omens.  Truth of the matter is, the Raven, like all wildlife and nature, should be respected, not feared.

 
Ravens bear magic and mysticism. Some native tribes refer to them as the ‘keeper of secrets’. They are linked to the void, where universal secrets are kept. Their colour is symbolic of darkness, the place where unconscious fear resides. Ravens are master magicians and represent transformational energy, revealing to us how to rid ourselves of our inner fears. Raven will show you how to go within in yourself, into the dark areas and illuminate them, bringing out your true self. They help transmute karma, returning you to the light. They will lead you into the discovery of your multidimensional self and reunite you with the secrets of the multidimensional universe. Inner conflicts should then be resolved, however long buried they are - and this is the deepest healing. 

Me - I am human  -  a person who keeps another’s secrets so that no one will know about them. Secret-Keepers don't divulge.  But don't be fooled or mistaken.  Like a Raven I will whistle-blow from the loftiest heights - to alert when people are in need - to help them myself, if I'm able.

A Dedication to Chrissy

Just one of my teenage loves. Chrissy Amphlett and the Divinyls rock my world. 

 She was and still is charismatic, gutsy - such raw woman.

So beautiful ... still is  <3

With that bee stung pout, and wild hair ...

A legend of Australian Rock, she's led an amazing life. 

Just how revered she is was driven home in 2006 when she launched her memoir,

 "Pleasure & Pain: My Life" which raced to No. 1 in the non-fiction best seller lists.
Chrissy's life makes compelling reading. 
Together with guitarist Mark McEntee, the Divinyls were formed, a fierce, uncompromising outfit that lays claim to being the best band Australia has ever produced. Her performances were the most aggressive and outrageous audiences had ever seen.

"Our music was real, honest, raw and straight from the heart", she says.

For 17 years, the hits kept coming:  "Boys In Town", "Science Fiction", "The Good Die Young", "Pleasure & Pain", "I Touch Myself" ... & so many more.

In 1997, Chrissy was in crisis - no band, and more than a million dollars in debt.

Bravely, she is confronting her demons and the struggle to overcome bankruptcy.
In 2007 she revealed she is suffering with Multiple Sclerosis and just last month, Chrissy was diagnosed with breast cancer. 

Blessings to you Chrissy Amphlett.  You Go Girl! <3

Let's get this party started with ... An Ode to the Web

It’s often quite dark before I reach this destination,
Late night, or early hours before dawn. 
Only night birds or currawongs divide the isolation,
Distant song lulls the frenzy that’s borne. 
I’m lost in the labyrinth named World Wide Web,
When my mind should be quiet, I’m reading instead! 
And it goes on and on into the wee hours,
When the world is asleep, and the web spins it’s powers.
And I come across jewels that sparkle and gleam,
Knowledge that brightens the darkest of seams.  
And sometimes I click on these tiny bright keys,
To find the most wondrous things –
BlogSpots, short stories, poems and twitters,
Writers who enlighten - or give me the jitters. 
But it’s rare that I’m hurt by these wondrous jewels,
Instead I drink ravenous, absorbing their fuels. 
And so I will write, or cast the odd poem,
And hope someone finds me before dark is stolen.