Imbolc

Last night I had the strangest of dreams! There was a pregnant man. Yes, I said a pregnant man. How can that be you may well ask. From what I understand, to dream of pregnancy within a dream is about giving birth to new ideas/projects and the like and not babies as in the real world. That said, I told my husband of my dream as I always do. He always listens, never really comments, and just accepts that I often have weird abstract dreams which I tell him about upon waking. He is used to it, and has listened to me telling him what I dreamed of for the best part of thirty five years. So nothing new there then!

Today is Imbolc in the Celtic Calendar, Candlemas in the Christian Calendar, also known as St Bridget’s Day. I knew this and knew a little about this. In the Celtic tradition, Imbolc marks the beginning of Spring , though with all this snow and freezing conditions, it does not feel much like Spring. It is, it seems the beginning of the lambing season, and there is the hint of new life in the making. Strangely, the original word Imbolc means ‘in the belly’ and that all is expectant and pregnant. There is the promise of renewal, potential that is hidden, and the life force is awakening.  As I read about Imbolc, and thought about my dream it seemed that maybe I am being given a message of some sort, maybe?

Imbolc is a time for letting go of the past, looking to the future, getting rid of what no longer serves us; clearing out the old and making room for the new. A time of new beginnings.  Brigid/Bridget is a Goddess of healing, poetry and smith craft. I have recently re-embarked on my journey in Pranic Healing, been revisiting my love of poetry, and my mum’s maiden name is Smyth (my mum is Irish and therefore I have Celtic roots). I come from a farming family on my Mum’s side, and my great grandfather was a Farrier/Blacksmith.  As I do not believe in coincidences, I am sure my dreams were sending me messages that the time is right for bringing in a new way of being. I believe in dreams, I believe in magic!

I wish you all a wonderful Imbolc/Candlemas and hope that what you dream for comes true, and that you may find magic in all that you do!

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Through the snow…

Through The Snow

‘Straight’ A student once,

A girl with dreams, girl with chance;

Chance of doing something great

Then a puppet with puppet’s fate.

Once in charge, once in control,

A girl with heart, girl with soul.

Sold herself to get a fix,

For something instant, something quick.

Started off with just a puff,

Then she knew she’d had enough.

A little later she met someone,

Made her laugh, have some fun.

He was on the trip before;

Now he had someone to soar

With open arms and dreams ahead,

Joined together, their habits fed.

They took a journey, rode together,

Through the snow for hell and leather;

They skied the slopes, down they went,

Destination not heaven bent.

For many seasons, the snow went on,

They wished so hard it would be gone.

They tried in vein to clear the snow,

Did not work – on with the show.

What started out, just as fun,

Soon took hold, now number one.

The blizzard blew, was blowing strong,

The journey hardened, miles were long.

They both knew, that change must come,

Or forever, they’d be undone.

It was hard, they missed their kicks,

Missed their snowman, missed their fix.

As time went by, they stayed together,

Bonds so strong, unbroken, never.

Against all odds, they stood the test

Of time immortal, deprived of rest –

Until such time as they had learnt

Lessons well, flames unburnt.

Universally sanctioned, arm in arm,

Gods did soften and free from harm.

It did not matter, had to be,

Star crossed lovers destiny;

But unlike Romeo, and Juliet

It was good that these two met.

Grim Reaper met the Cobra Queen,

She knew him, had known he’d been,

Her Karmic Prince for all of time,

Her main player, in her cosmic mime.

Lives interwoven, eternally linked,

Chained in melody, not chains that chinked.

United in a timeless love,

Gods just playing them, from above.

Before the end, the slope got steeper

For Cobra Queen and Grim Reaper,

But now they’re sorted, squeaky clean

Only God knows, what might have been.

© Liola Lee 2007

 

 

 

 

Girl in me…

However old we get, our inner child is always within us. If we look closely in the mirror we will see her…

There once was a girl,  a long time ago,

Where she is now, I do not know.

I wish I could find her, ask her to stay,

Where she is now, I cannot say.

I call her name, there’s no reply,

Where is she now? I wonder why?

I look in the mirror, what do I see?

Someone familiar, looking at me.

I look again, I stare, then see,

Looking back, is the girl in me.

I look again, I stare, I see,

The girl in the mirror,

Inside of me.

Searching…

Much of my poetry is Philosophical. I am quite a deep thinker. This is a poem about finding one’s way out of the darkness. Much of my poetry has been written when I have been feeling lost… 

Ill-chosen lyrics, a well-loved tune?

Child of the Sun, child of the Moon?

Where once reigned daylight

Now shadow led night.

Where once there was vision

Eyes blind without sight.

Where now is felt weakness

Not characterised might;

Once stood strength,

Ready to fight.

The fight is now gone:

A forgotten song:

Words without voices,

Decisions less choices.

This way or that way?

I know not which;

The path rightly chosen

Is wealth beyond rich.

To those who seek,

To them shall find;

The way is forward

Not that behind.

© Liola Lee 2007

R.I.P

I wrote this poem in 2007 to remember all those service men and women who fought in all wars. The imagery in the poem is more in reference to The Great War and the trenches. Please know The image here is of my beautiful Dad who signed up for the RAF at the age of 18. He and many like him served their Sovereign and Country in World War II to keep us free…I blended the image with a field of Poppies to create a dramatic effect. I had hoped to post this on Armistice/Remembrance day but life got in the way. So here it is now…

slumbering in earthen graves

some known others not

flesh on bones left to rot

faceless now lost in caves

laying long in dirty trenches

waiting for death to come

bloodied rows crowded tomb

rotting flesh smells and stenches

immobile bodies lay so still

crimson sticky puddles stick

open wounds carrion lick

‘til rats and birds have had their fill

no romance in bloody wars

boys and men go to die

for what? perhaps just lies

just some so-called cause

sleep now hush now darling

little boys one and all

lay you down and gently fall

asleep with Jesus calling

© Liola Lee 2007