Night of the Goddess

                                                                                                                               Art:        Willow Arlenea

Dancing in a Hurricane

Whirling in the driving rain

Water streaming from my hair

            Dancing accompaniment

            to the Storm

 

Skywalkers split the night

Stabbing, stabbing

Dancing on my skin

            I am electric

            Lighting the sky from within

 

Cosmic glow Life Fire

The Image of Godhead burned

On my retinas

Swaying, twisting

            Silhouettes of branches whipping

            Casting crazy shadows

            On the ground beneath bare feet

 

This night the moon is hidden

No stars to pierce the firmament

All Light flows through the Dancer

Expression of the universal prayer

 

Again the sky is riven

The Wind screams a Secret Name

Struck to the heart

I fold and fall

            Who would Give

            Must learn to Receive with Deepest Joy

 

 

 

© 2011 pamela twining

 

Northern Lights

 

 

 

 

glorious icy January late afternoon

breath fails me

watching the snowflakes spark

like fireflies in the cold winter sun

fairy rainbows disappear in a nano

best thing about winter afternoons

they transform into night so sweetly

goldens fading

to infinite shadings of grey

slipping down to silver-limned blacknesses

then jagged sharp ice knife surprising

bone-chillt limbs

     cocoon under piles of blankets

watch final light fade from the sky

and the dark surrounds

last edges lit w blue fire rays

boreal lights shifting colors

magic and cold thrusts

stabbings

an icicle to the heart but melts

in the heat of our coming together              

 

the dreams I have

still crackling with electricity

young

spicy

the scent of you

nerve endings spark juices flow

ignite

and you are laid waste again

at my mercy again

and I can’t help but call you to me

 

let me touch you

let me feel the stories etched across your life

let me call forth All

your own dreams and memories

share all with me

I am so greedy

 

we can still Dance that bed across the room my love

 

 

© 2019 pamela twining

 

 

february 7 am

 

morning breaks soft

snowlit expanses glowing in the dawn

light reflected in pastels unencumbered

by green

               winter still holding breath waiting

spring abides deep

in the watercolor memory

 

i hunger

for those Slashing reds, Exhibitionist purples

Demanding sunwashed flights of rainbows

               shattered, scattered

anywhere the eye can see

 

those wealthy shades

of summer goldening the afternoon

redolent of honey and valerian

               drunken vanilla scent fills heart’s eye

 

sharp spike of earthrich aroma

sweet and foul

memories from before birth

fertile foetid miasma surrounding me

breeds all life

               climbs inside and opens, opens

stop my breath in summer!

i will waft out into that pregnant air

 

spirit dream sustenance

               enough yet awhile

winter’s cold hands

the icy mouth of her Wanting

not done with me yet

 

 

© 2015 pamela twining

 

 

Pretty Soon He'll Run Out of Daughters

 

 

 

Afghanistan

thrown back overnight

into medieval chaos

women are always the first

to go Down

dirt kicked into the faces

of the lives they’d built

in streets only recently released

from an ancient poverty

Returned

to Suffocating Dark

 

9-year-old daughter sold

the Family All Important

will eat for three months

Father begs him not to beat her

as the man pulls her thin arm

pulls her into the car

to take her away

 

last year the 12-year-old sold

she brought more

she could work harder

            and was closer to breeding

the Family ate for a year that time

 

one more girl

only 5

then what?

 

bittersweet from birth

mothers’ savage offspring

the daughters so rarely rejoiced in

except for what money can buy

so recently liberated

to Promises of a modern life

only to be betrayed

sold again

 

can they be saved

for what?

to Hope?

Hope

 

faint and Slowly unfurling

like a flag or a flower

then Doors Bursting Open

the Booted Feet of

the weapons in the hands of

Blind Religionists

the Old Lies against Woman

pouring like blood

            broken dam of flesh & bone

tearing away thin skin

veneer of Freedom

no more in this Land