Skull-picker

I look for skull-picker

Along the traveling way

After sun’s birth

Each and every day.

 

The mysterious blood-starling

Who mourns her own dead

And exchanges information

Nightly, before bed.

 

An intelligent one

Who captivates me

And caches her food

High up in the tree.

 

This one I adore

And hear her every day

I often find her

By the roadside buffet.

©Shadow

Kennings: skull-picker, blood starling= crow

What do you know about her?

Note:  I often use kennings in my poetry.  To help make this poem more understandable, I used the following kennings:

the fire of the sky=sun; swan of blood=raven; Thor’s laughter=thunder; weeping of clouds=rain

What do you know about her?

This one who loves to see

The fire of the sky

In the evening, alone with me.

 

What do you know about her?

The one who is intrigued by

The odd swan of blood

But know not what makes her cry.

 

Tell me what you know

Of what she likes to hear

Thor’s laughter in the distance

Music to the ear.

 

Tell me what you know

Of what she likes to smell

The weeping of clouds

Makes her emerge from her shell.

 

Tell me what you know

About all of her tears

Her lifelong problems

Of tantrums and fears.

 

Do you know this little girl?

Living down below

Deep in the shadows

Still in chains from long ago.

 

Who is this little girl?

Who learned to be an imposter

Never growing up

Still waiting for her well-being to foster.

©Shadow

Sunna Rising

The land is cloaked in darkness

Before yellow-queen is to rise

And as light gives way

Red and gold paint the sky.

 

Greetings to you, dear Sunna

As the gates of darkness fade

Cloud-murk covers hawthorn’s moor

And Mani no more in shade.

 

I turn my face to you

Lady of light

Arise! Arise!

With all of your might!

 

And now in full view

Elves-glory lights the land

Thank you, dear Sunna

For giving life to the seat of man.

 

©Shadow

Who am I?

Since I moved out of my former apartment after only a short while, I had to find something else before my father’s house had to be put up for sale.  Lucky for me, there is this guy at work who just so happened to have a one bedroom cabin on his property that he is willing to rent to me. I went to look at it and when I arrived and got out of the vehicle, the first thing I said to him is “This is a paradise!”  I love nature and love being in nature…and in a rural area…I don’t like city life, as I might have mentioned before. I don’t know how people function with all the distractions and noise. Anyway, he had trails all through the woods. A great place to find a sit spot and observe nature I thought.  I looked at the cabin too since that was the purpose for my visit.  It was a rustic cabin that look like something straight out of the movies.  The area is quiet and I absolutely love the place.

It is so perfect for me that I am waiting for something to go wrong before I move in on October the 1st.  Or even for something to happen and not be able to rent the place. Maybe I think I don’t deserve it and that is why I am being so negative about it.  That all I deserve is some crummy apartment in a noisy city. Maybe I am just always thinking I should not get my hopes up. That sometimes good things happen to people but I am not usually one of those people.  

Stay positive, I tell myself.  Everything will work out.

In other news, I went to see my therapist yesterday.  The question I am to consider is: “Who am I when I am not wearing a mask?”  Hmmm, that is a really tough question. Seems like I am always wearing a mask.  I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have them. And someday not wearing one of them seems scary.  I don’t know who I am without them. Maybe I am nothing. Surely I do not wear them when I am alone.  But who am I then?

-Shadow

To be a tree

My back against a tree

as my mind aimlessly wanders

Til at last

I begin to ponder.

Oh how I love

how the wind caresses my skin

and how it swirls

The leaves into a spin.

What does the tree think

of this silent whisper?

Of the whipping air

when it grows crisper?

I wonder about

the life of a tree

who never speaks

nor have eyes to see.

Yet they all

have a story to tell

wrapped up inside

its strong bark shell.

View their branches

and ponder their shape

look at the vine

of which the trunk cannot escape.

See their leaves

their various shape and color

Consider its life

does it know dolor?

I wonder what it’s like

to be a tree

I wonder what it’s like

To just be.

© Shadow