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Author Name: FreeSensual Sorceress 8 Comments
Date Added: September 17, 2012 11:09:56 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Free Verse
Category: Spiritual Add To Favorites | Text Only
In The Shape Of A Hart
A figure stands beside the rapids,
listening to the night songs; a ritual
as old as the river unfolds around her.
Aged pines sway, spectral mists roll
across the rocky peaks of Monadhliath.
Their silhouettes crawl velvet-lined passes
while fairy cattle, hooves softly muffled
by the carpeted forest, complete 
their trek toward the circled stones,
and she follows. 

The melody of her ancestors descends,
douses her gown, seeps through her skin,
and liberates her memories.
Her spirit escapes its corporal confines,
free to wander, a nomad trailing the herd.  
At the grove, a highland messenger waits, 
an embodiment of this land.
In a chrysalis cradled by his lullaby,
the maiden moon gives birth.
Transformed into the shape of a Hart, 
he will finally sing her home. 

Author's Notes:
 On holiday in Scotland, I had a very interesting experience. The poem above is my attempt to give it voice.
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Comment By: PremiumMary Lou Allen on September 20, 2012 01:50:05 PM Report
In a land so full of shadow, mystery and magic, how could a poem not erupt? Of course, every place our Sorceress rests her attention erupts in poetry. Nice one. ML
Comment By: PremiumDavid Turner on September 18, 2012 04:07:31 AM Report
Indeed I have had strange experiences like this - once on the Scottish border we were driving towards the site of the Battle of Flodden where JamesIV of Scotland was heavily defeated by the English  Army under the Earl of Surrey. Somehow as we got nearer and nearer to the Battlefield I could feel the cries of battle and the pain of the dying. 14000 men died, about 2000 English and 12000 Scots including James IV.
The pipe lament, The  Floo'ers o' the Forest was composed to remember the Scottish dead, now only ever played at funerals or memorials :-

 Nice to see you back on CP.


Comment By: FreeLeonard Wilson on September 17, 2012 09:01:26 PM Report
Makes me wish to spend some on the Scottish moore, or less. :o)...Beautiful pictures, Aces...len
Comment By: FreeTomahawk on September 17, 2012 06:41:44 PM Report

How very Avalon, the mystic throes of an enchanted non-corporeal entity, come to being and taking flight in this work. Well done.



Comment By: FreeHenry M. on September 17, 2012 04:05:14 PM Report
Well Jolen, you have achieved what you sought out to do, this is wxcwllent. Hmmmmm, I can see that living in England has changed our American woman some, On holiday?? What happened to vacation?/ LOL,, well it's tea time here I must push off now.  Hugs,   Henry
Comment By: FreeAdri on September 17, 2012 03:12:25 PM Report
This is gorgeous. I am in awe...  You are a fantastic fantastic writer 

Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on September 17, 2012 02:56:21 PM Report

 I agree you have found just right the mystical words to show us all your visial  picture...

 Its great to read new poetry  every one so different in style and grammer...

 So glad your back.... We all have missed the Sensual writer of her time...

Hugs ~ Sista.. India

Comment By: FreeKymberly Donn on September 17, 2012 01:58:25 PM Report
And so you have, beautifully. The mysticism of the old world abounds in every line. Superb my dear!

~Hugs~Cinders~Wishing she could soak up some of that old world magic


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