RESURRECTION
On this page I recreate history
from the remnants of childhood –
This keyboard grows smooth with jabbering fingers
tapping the fear and wonder –
My screen glows white from the heat of knowledge
lighting the hidden shadows –
And free from the net that strangled my spirit
I resurrect Her wild past.
(Kit Perriman)
(Painting: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
(Photo: Kit Perriman)
THE MYSTICA
In solitary non-compliant places
the Mystica rise
against the gravitational tug of nature
thwarting mortal will.
Gnarly limbs that grasp into consciousness
press the rub of time.
Their fingers grapple the swollen currents –
blasted and empty –
swimming away from treacherous sandbanks,
unchecked by any tide.
A mysterious spell-binding graciousness
captivates the eye
and highlights the worn skeletal echoing
of constant pressure.
Their branches lie bare of verdant feathering
yet will bloom again
as they wrestle the constant drownings that
sap land-locked spirits.
Look! Out of even dead apparitions spring
promises of fresh life.
(Kit Perriman)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
The Lancashire Witches
by Carol Ann Duffy
(Read by Dan Thorpe)
Check out the official poem written to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the Lancashire Witch Trials by Britain’s Poet Laureate
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
Magic Words – Nineteen
“With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.”
(Max Ehrmann)
(Photo: Kit Perriman)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
And the pearly moon
smiled
one sliver of glee as the shell tones
of day-play
dissolved to a smudge
on a fading
horizon of ink.
Then she pulsed to the
spangling
words of –
“So mote it be.”
(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
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
Peachy clouds shred
the last
veils of shine-time,
draping
their lacy strands
over
violet night’s velvet,
tucking the light in slumber.
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Kit Perriman)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
Curled waves
washed footsteps
and melted down sands
into flat unnamed moon dust,
identity
smoothed back to
nothingness
by pre-ordained pulsing.
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
When they thought us wicked, we were really wise
In the Burning Times of world despise,
They named us as tricksters, blamed things dark and worse,
Called cunning and wile a demon’s curse.
Heaven and the Underworld, summoned at will,
Crept on cat-paws to nurture or thrill,
Reading vain futures – balancing humors –
Attending births and healing tumors.
Folklore has always survived the Dark Ages . . .
They’ll never destroy the timeless Sages.
(Kit Perriman)
(Picture: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
SPELLCASTER: ONE
A molten sphere
slid off
the raw edge of evening
like a thumb-spun doubloon
arching the air
before
sinking below denim fields.
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2021 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
