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Good for you Rain, I've been a little bumfuzzled lately - Happy New Year to all and hope the Black Snake treats you well 2013 will be the Year of the Black Snake in the Chinese horoscope - PG is an Ox, which means he's slow to do things and overthinks alot - well d'uh so we can blame his being an Ox (and a stubborn one at that) for all the delays Listening to Jeff Martin sing Black Snake Blues I started writing this I am the Snake I am the snake in your dreams I hear your screams your cries you wake to the monsters under you bed - I am the snake Your eyes shed tears I make I make for you, to true I sent my tentacles through your sorry soul And take you for a ride to hell and back with heavy sighs You see the monsters rise You see the evil rise from the lake It's coming for you dear Have no fear, I am the snake The black snake is coming Coming for you, my dear cmm (only 3 likes at the Pagan Poetry page) 12/25/12 Dark moon/Sun god Dark moon on a lover's night no light no moon no fight all resistence not quite dark moon waits for her man As he sorts out his action plan Gold sun rises warming the trees he rides his golden chariot over the land and the sea's whatever will be will be The golden sun god smiles The dark moon frowns and cries For all those punished during the evil witch trials why she cries to the sun god So much blood and pain laid waste to the land innocents burn at the stake Dark moon's fears leave a stain why sun god did this have to be Dark moon's tears fall like rain They meet at dusk they meet at dawn they hold hands and watch a golden fawn When will it end all that hate Sun god smiles - no worries dear I won't be late I won't be late I have a plan to guide the human hand We'll use music to sooth the savage beast it's the least I can do I promise my dear my mate It is fate to be near you and all your dark traits and all those things you do and all your varied states I'll be there I'll be true to you - promise I'll be true April 20/10 13 "likes" lol

There is a place where three oaks trees are,two blue cedars not that far. A popular roots ripped and torn now a bridge for deer and fawn, a crew of gold finches bob and weave, more nuts they wait for the spring retrieve. Ancients with arms old and weathered, their black silhouettes well winter bedded, in this place the frost bites hand on the ground. The tawny owl glides from hazel one two and three, eyes transfixed focused on me, the green wood pecker lets out a rickety cry, here as I see it fly by. An ash as aged as the story of hell, in this place that I love now can you tell?

Thanks for the sharing May I speak. I join you in that love for Nature.

Every Night Every night I see the light You call my name and I came and came Every night I feel you near I faced the truth and felt no fear Every night I'd see you true an alien being a devil's brew Every night we save this place Judgment Day inhuman race Every night you come and go You pick up time what a show Every night I see your face A haunted man with Satanic grace Every night you tease my soul remind me not to feed the troll Every night I know your mind Racing the hills a golden hind Every night you have them fooled Not the sweet man they think but a gruesome ghoul Every night you laugh at them I'm more emphatic I feel sorry for them Every night you prove your might The King returns sounds so trite Every night I dance and sing Armageddon wedding bells ring Nov.5/10

A Red Red Rose a poem by Robert Burns O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry: Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve, And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.

To a Mouse - A Poem by Robert Burns (Written by Burns after he had turned over the nest of a tiny field mouse with his plough. Burns was a farmer and farmers are generally far too busy to be concerned with the health of mice. This poem is another illustration of Robert Burn's tolerance to all creatures and his innate humanity.) Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald. To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear!

Must be a relative of the moose loose about this hooose.

It's a bra bric moonlik nic to nic Tony Hancock in The Blood Donor when he meets the Scottish doctor

Every Night Every night I see the light You call my name and I came and came Every night I feel you near I faced the truth and felt no fear Every night I'd see you true an alien being a devil's brew Every night we save this place Judgment Day inhuman race Every night you come and go You pick up time what a show Every night I see your face A haunted man with Satanic grace Every night you tease my soul remind me not to feed the troll Every night I know your mind Racing the hills a golden hind Every night you have them fooled Not the sweet man they think but a gruesome ghoul Every night you laugh at them I'm more emphatic I feel sorry for them Every night you prove your might The King returns sounds so trite Every night I dance and sing Armageddon wedding bells ring cmm nov.5/10

Persephone's Lament You sit there allsmug and sure you are the dark god so satanically pure Look, I gave up the fight and the right I accept you as my lord and kneel before you accepting your dark embrace Lets face it - I'm in too deep now For me it's way too late and now you say we have a date in you underground lair, Hades an I'm your special hand maiden lady You still take me for granted Just cause I ate your sour pomegranate Six seeds and here am I Six months a year - no tears no fear I'm getting used to being your special lady I'm getting used to your dark brooding ways Not too bad not too shady So here I sit at the right hand of the dark god Hades A real lady's man of a god That's not too odd and I find myself in love dammit Would you hand me another pomegranate cmm Jan.26/13

great one Page ....... Someone said someday that the process could be as interesting as the result here is something on its way ... starting into english, keeping going into french. Tides's prince So low, so deep so slow so quick, To whip En vagues Aussi improntuement imprévisibles que lames Agitées de reflux de toujours, Scintillantes, fragiles, Bleues, Bleu à l'ame Amère, Avide de venir Lapper la terre Ivre d'en saisir L'entière permanente atttache, Transmuant le temps du reflux En un débordement diffracté Pluie d'envolée d'étincelles d'écume Etincelante A la pupille du soleil. Somewhere in little Britanny 26/01/13 PR

Sorry .... étincelant, but who cares ?

The Devil in the Dark In the dark of my night the devil would come to me working on a mystery wanting my help in setting him free can't we just let it be let it be In the long dark night of my soul the devil whispers to me Only you can set me free Come to me Come to me Take my hand and lead me to the promised land the promised land Just before dawn in the chill of the night the devil sigh's to me Once I am really free I can't reveal my destiny must take cover, run and hide but in the Spring when the buds are blooming I'll take you home by the sea and a rebel's wife ye'll be a rebel's wife ye'll be

Happy Full Moon - The Wolf Moon Wolf Moon by Ousma Your children stay up late Beneath the covers; wide-eyed they shiver and quake Envisioning the stories told Horrors about me; folklore of old The full moon flies in the night sky If they're just myths, why do you lock your door, why? There's a drawer where you keep silver and holy water Afraid I'll come snatch your son? Your daughter? Beneath the pine shadows I roam These dark mysterious woods I call home Over your village these mountains leer And when the cold fog creeps you shiver with fear Have you heard my eerie howl at midnight? Did you sit up in bed, filled with fright? Is it visions of my teeth that keep you up all night long? Or is it the lonely hearbreak of my song? The ones I love think I'm dead Better that than know ther truth instead You've outcasted me, called me a monster, among other names You don't know the whole story, you're all the same I watch over this sleepy town, a guardian from above And all I ever asked in return was some spare love Yet still I walk alone, save for the light of the wolf moon

The Negative People by Francis Duggan The negative people in your life you have met Are the people that you would prefer to forget And though the past has gone some things from it we regret Of what was and has been why bother to fret, Some claim a life hereafter is based on a lie That we are mere mortals just born to die In your travels you'll meet with more fools than the wise And life is viewed differently through different eyes As I'm a non believer and I pen doggerel You see me as one bound for the hereafter hell But if you see me as damned well that suits me fine For that is your business and your business not mine No shortage of negative people in the World out there Where fools are abundant and the wise very rare.

Words from some one's sky not sure who's. Amid all the woes and the troubles and strife, do not be afraid of living your life. Amid all the worry, the stress and the fears, go make someone happy by drying their tears. Amid shattered dreams and hate and despair, be a good friend by just being there. Through heartaches and trauma and games people play, go live to the fullest and love every day! Through bouts of depression, self-pity and doubt , go follow your passions by letting them out. Through anger and envy and whatever sin, go conquer a mountain, go out there and win! Whatever's worthwhile,not easy will come, but if your trying, then you have won!

Bravo, MIS!

Seems we 've lost "accents" Then no french piece of poetry for today ........ ( you missed some interesting "Alexandrins by the way !!!! ) But this one, from one of the Ted Talk participant the very same day Peter will talk. To This Day When I was a kid I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing I thought they were both pork chops and because my grandmother thought it was cute and because they were my favourite she let me keep doing it not really a big deal one day before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it because I was afraid I’d get in trouble for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise and I got sent to the principal’s office from there I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home I saw no reason to lie as far as I was concerned life was pretty good I told her “whenever I’m sad my grandmother gives me karate chops” this led to a full scale investigation and I was removed from the house for three days until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school and I earned my first nickname pork chop to this day I hate pork chops I’m not the only kid who grew up this way surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called and we got called them all so we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us that we’d be lonely forever that we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed so broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away that there’s no way for it to metastasize it does she was eight years old our first day of grade three when she got called ugly we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls but the school halls were a battleground where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day we used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse outside we’d have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there in grade five they taped a sign to her desk that read beware of dog to this day despite a loving husband she doesn’t think she’s beautiful because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half of her face kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn’t quite get the job done and they’ll never understand that she’s raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word mom because they see her heart before they see her skin that she’s only ever always been amazing he was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree adopted but not because his parents opted for a different destiny he was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy started therapy in 8th grade had a personality made up of tests and pills lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs four fifths suicidal a tidal wave of anti depressants and an adolescence of being called popper one part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty he tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who still had his mom and dad had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit to this day he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it’s about to fall and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration he remains a conversation piece between people who can’t understand sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way to this day kids are still being called names the classics were hey stupid hey spaz seems like each school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year and if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear do they make a sound? are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like kids can be cruel? every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers from clowns to carnies all of these were miles ahead of who we were we were freaks lobster claw boys and bearded ladies oddities juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal but at night while the others slept we kept walking the tightrope it was practice and yeah some of us fell but I want to tell them that all of this shit is just debris leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself get a better mirror look a little closer stare a little longer because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed it “they were wrong” because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it you have to believe that they were wrong they have to be wrong why else would we still be here? we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them we stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway and if in some way we are don’t worry we only got out to walk and get gas we are graduating members from the class of fuck off we made it not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me of course they did but our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty. http://www.shanekoyczan.com/

Very interesting.