Monday 31 October 2011

Crone Moon - a poem for Samhain

On All Hallows Eve, Hallowe'en - or in the Celtic way, Samhain, I make a little compost and sow a few seeds for the soul.  Samhain is the end of the Celtic year, the beginning of winter, a time to reflect and consider, a time to slough off old, unwanted things and plant new hopes which will start to sprout with the spring snowdrops.  Here's a poem to mark the turning of the year. 

Crone Moon
Samhain 2011

Tonight I pass from blood red moon’s curve
to soft crone sag, wrinkled wisebelly.
I am not sad.
No more so than the yellow birch leaf is,
which skips and skirls over the October lawn,
celebrating its own downfall.
There are twelve crows across the sky.
I hear them caw counting bones,
their harsh tongue telling the days and hours
till I am ash and earth and brittle maggot flesh
for bears to gnaw on.

Monday 10 October 2011

A Fantasy Dinner Party on Serendipity Reviews

Today I'm with Vivienne over on the wonderful Serendipity Reviews, talking about my perfect fantasy dinner party (with lots of literary guests and a few eccentric choices).  There's also a fantasy menu which will make your mouth water.  Do go over and visit, and tell us whether you agree with my list! If not, who would your choices be?

Thursday 6 October 2011

Child of Mine

National Poetry Day is with us again, so I thought I'd give you one of my own poems to celebrate.  Enjoy!

Child of Mine

You and I, we lived in our enclosed world
of earth-shattering cries,
and lullabies sung out of love and memory.
Each living inch of you was miracle,
your salt-stained smile a kaleidoscope thing
of ever-changing wonder.
I had no words then, was dumbfounded,
too entranced, exhausted, enchanted,
to commit you to a paper prison where
fascinating plump-braceleted wrists
and the endless scent of milk-warm skin
stayed frozen in some verbal snapshot trap.
But now, child of mine, memory frays,
and I fear losing our then amongst
the grey, dead-end paths of my aging brain.
Words are the only tool I have
to keep my pasts alive and unforgotten.

© Lucy Coats 2011
 
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