Plea To Artemis

Moon Child

How much more do you want of me, Mistress Moon

blinking your chimera’s eye, stirring my cells

in time to the moody lull of your barbarous beat,

intent on my submission, more white

than shark’s teeth, colder than icebergs, and broody –  endlessly throbbing?

(Kit Perriman)

(Photo: Public Domain)

Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved

Styx

 

 

I crossed over in the night for the very first time –

just floated serene and lonely

on coffee-brown water that lapped at my raft, unfelt.

 

I was not so much frightened as stricken with awe –

full of no earthly sensation

but the rushing of time, propelling me on and on.

 

Then at some exact moment –  the slate horizon

cracked like a splintering egg-shell

and strange orange light bled through the fissures of dark.

 

It was not yet my time.

(Kit Perriman)

(Photo: Kit Perriman)

Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved

Selene

Selene

I refuse to vanish or set

when gravity tugs me to earth

in a blaze of gore or glory –

to wane to nothingness beyond

a slice of ashen promise –

And I will not slide quietly by

a masculine smothering of power –

for the damage will already be done.

Have you seen how moonlight blazes so hard

it slips beyond any brute shadow?

(Kit Perriman)

(Painting: Victor Florence Pollett)

Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved

 

Crone Stones

Rocks

This is the womb of the world

where two seas collide

at a hammock of land

and bony rocks arch

in the jet blood-black spray.  Three

mythical crone stones –

who see what sharp lips never

tell – still watch through

their ageless snake hair for the

goings of they that

once crawled from their legs in the

primeval salt-dawn of time.

(Kit Perriman)

(Photo: Kit Perriman)

If you want to read more posts like this please visit Kit Perriman’s website at http://thehillwitchnovel.com/Blog

Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved

Spellcaster: Four

Shore

Only the roar prevailed

against timely erosions

which puckered

the skin at the edge

of the gnawing ebb,

discharging on the shoreline

its useless,

unwholesome, and dead.

(Kit Perriman)

(Photo: Public Dmain)

If you want to read more posts like this please visit Kit Perriman’s website at http://thehillwitchnovel.com/Blog

Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved