A poetic journey through my mind

Posts tagged “magic

Paper Girl pt. 2: Paper Mache

Once there was a little girl made of paper, with a hollow space in the middle that ate the world and never had enough. The space howled and whined and ate and ate, not just food, but love, and kindness, and pain, and anger, and courage, and all the things that make up a little girl, or even a big girl, until all that was left was what other people saw and said and stuck on. Then one day, the little girl had enough. She held on to her last story, holding until her fingers were on fire, until her tears melted in the fire, until her anger turned back to ice, and the last story came to be a strong, solid shell around the hole. The hole whined and snarled, but no matter how hungry it felt, how empty, the girl knew that it would never be filled. So she built her shell with the food, instead. She took the kindness, and the courage, and the words and words and words that everyone threw at her, and she used her pretty eyes to make them as pretty as she could, and pasted them into bright places and patterns on her hard, strong paper shell. Sometimes the hollow was stronger, and a few pieces were lost, but she always managed to find new ones, sometimes even better ones. And maybe she lived happily ever after, in her own way, and maybe she didn’t, but either way, she had a new name, and it would keep her safe. She was no longer the paper girl…she was the Paper Mache Girl!


The Question

pooka girl, changeling girl,
foxes eyes, red mane acurl,
tell me, tell me, tell me true,
three times three I ask of you.

First is for the love we share,
his midnight eyes and crow-black hair,
his handsome face so fine and fair,
where have you taken him, fox-girl, where?

pooka girl, changeling girl,
foxes eyes, red mane acurl,
tell me, tell me, tell me true,
three times three I ask of you.

The second is for magic, deep,
that through our veins does rise and leap,
a power bought with price so steep
I feel it cry out, in my sleep.

pooka girl, changeling girl,
foxes eyes, red mane acurl,
tell me, tell me, tell me true,
three times three I ask of you.

The third time is for loyalty,
for oaths by moon and star and tree,
oaths of blood I shed for thee,
I ask you, sister, three times three.


Blue and Grey #2 (Prose, WIP, constructive criticism appreciated)

The rest was almost laughable in its anticlimax…at least, someday she’d laugh about it. For now, she simply relished the relative ease of making the careful stretch and scrabble to the next few rungs, then slipping sinously up onto the roof to look down on the milling, furious pack below. Sighing softly, she called down toward the street, couching her voice in as casual and concise a way as she could, considering her condition. “Here, boys…it’s over. Just go home now, like nice doggies…and maybe next time we’ll find time to play.” This had the expected effect of stirring them to frenzies of scrabbling and leaping after her, and she simply shook her head and turned to head home over the rooftops. The path was clear from here, and with the pack occupied below, as safe as any she’d find on street level.

It was a very tired and dirty Blue that slipped in through the gate at the back of The Mall that morning…not that anyone there would’ve recognized her in her current condition. She padded slowly down the cool floor with its tile pattern of blue and green waves, hearing the soft stirrings of morning in the stores as she passed. Head hanging low, she slipped under the curtain and into her current home, tossing a soft smile up at the ever-smiling head of the stores mascot/angel, above. Careful to find her way to the spot that she’d prepped behind a pile of boxes in the back storeroom, she collapsed on the cool cement floor, and fell asleep licking her wounds…

The sound of The Mall opening for business woke her several hours later, and she stretched, wincing as her elbows hit the sharp edges of the boxes, and her knee came unstuck from the floor, reluctantly. Sighing, she reached for the clothes she’d left here before heading out the night before and slipped them on, taking the time to examine herself from head to toe as she did. Apart from the long scrape on her side, and the cut on her knee, and the usual wicked headache, she seemed to have once more slipped through without taking any serious injury. How long this state of grace would last was unknown and unknowable, but for now she’d settle for being grateful it existed, instead of whining about it.

Tying her hair back in a loose messy knot, she made her way down the hall and out into the main store, carefully not meeting the accusing eyes of her “boss”, and the resigned pair belonging to her best friend. They sat curled up with each other in the soft corner, Jamie with one hand on Spikes head, stroking him like a pet. Jamie obviously felt that Blue was hiding something from her, (which to be fair, she was), and when Jamie was upset, Spike felt it as well, even though he had no real clue what. Blue sighed, already seeing the loss of yet another “family” and home in her near future.


Mistake

the wheel of fortune spins and reels,
the stuff of dreams it costs to play,
no one misses what it steals,
until that one memorable day.

the day that dreamstuff turns to smoke,
and vanishes into thin air,
they laugh about it, even joke,
but soon enough, comes the despair.

for not a dream can they sustain,
imagination turns to clay,
a previously unknown pain,
that sits upon them, day by day.

it whispers chill into their ears,
and freezes hard the loving heart,
it causes disregard of tears,
till finally, they stand apart.

oh, wealth aplenty they may gain,
power, playthings and much more,
but nothing satisfies the pain,
life simply an unending chore.

until their deathbed, old and gray,
where waits for them the final breath,
forgotten music starts to play,
as the wheel spins once…and comes up “Death”.

the wheel of fortune spins and reels,
the stuff of dreams it costs to play,
no one misses what it steals,
until that one memorable day.


The Gift

hummingbird thoughts flicker and dart,
jewel-bright bits of magic and art,
in the dark shadowed places, in the contemplative grove,
o’er the turquoise-blue waves of a tropical cove,
in dark stormy weather and mad lashings of fear,
they sparkle and dance and shine without peer.
and when i am desperate, furious, or numb,
just when i fear to the depths i’ll succumb,
when i cry out from deep in the canyon of night,
suddenly twinkles a tiny bright light,
then two, and then more, they sparkle and play
till my storm darkened mind grows bright as the day
and laughing, i spin in my own rainbow dance,
and with joy and new hope take this god-given chance.
the words that pour out of my soul and my heart
are as shining and bright as the jewels that dart,
and i think to myself and i hope as i write
that the words will fly out and rekindle a light
and dance for a time in some lonely heart,
my jewel-bright bits of magic and art.


Cards

Pasteboard prophets,
painted seers,
predictors of laughter
and journeys and tears,
tell me what you
see in my eyes,
mysteries held behind
your mystic guise,
a tall dark stranger,
riches or fate,
tell me now, wise ones,
will I come too late?
will I forever be
one step behind,
tied to the doubt
within my own mind?
sadness or fortune,
love, loss and more,
are waiting for me
behind that cloth door,
do I dare enter,
or will I remain
forever a stranger
to that magic plain?


No Magic

Just yesterday, the moon shone blue
and the twinkling stars were gold,
but now they’re dull, they’re only stone,
and the moon is white and cold.

Just yesterday, the unicorns
grazed happily in the rain,
but now the grass lies dead and brown
across the endless plain.

Just yesterday, when I was loved,
brilliant colors filled the sky,
and every cloudbank smiled at us,
and wore a rainbow tie.

But now my love has gone away,
and life is dull and drear,
and that is why I say, my child,
there is no magic here.


Kitsune, Usagi and Tanuki: Fox Dreams references.

It occurred to me that a few of the references in Fox Dreams might be a bit obscure, and the stories work better with the right images. 😉

Kitsune (keet-snay) is the fox and fox spirit, Usagi the rabbit, and Tanuki is a Japanese raccoon dog and spirit.

Kitsune are mischievous shapeshifters who become more powerful the longer they live, as represented by the number of tails they have. Although inherently tricksy and sly, for the right person they can make loyal and loving friends, lovers, and wives. The Fox Wife is a traditional tale that usually has the fox-woman proving to be a loving and exceptional wife, until she is revealed…sometimes by her tails showing under her gown, or her true face reflected in a pond…and must leave.

Inari is the patron kami of rice, fertility and foxes. She likes to take the form of a fox, and as such, is said to be the only nine-tailed Kitsune in existence, as she won’t tolerate anyone having more power than she.

Tanuki are shape-changers, and one tale tells how they love to masquerade as a fat little cooking pot on the hearth until someone fills it with food, at which point it changes back and runs away with the meal! They are generally portrayed as happy, lusty, and slightly stupid, able to be led into foolish situations with little effort.

Hope that helps! At the least, I hope you leave knowing a little more about the fascinating myths and legends and animals of Japan! 🙂


Little Things

the mystery that lies within,
the dreaming that’s our second skin,
the paths we walk, the winds that blow,
the words that let our spirits know,
that what is now has gone before,
the quiet that’s our inner core,
the timeless wonder of the stars
that whispers “this too can be ours”,
the magic of a single minute,
that has so many choices in it,
the peace that dwells within a flower,
the lifetime held within each hour,
the caring touch of heart to heart,
the soul healing power of loving art.