A pure honest voice,
Soaked in Mississippi Delta blues
And Southern Comfort®.
A cathartic melodic scream
Singing songs to broken hearts.
Smile of an angel
Laughter of someone who knows
What its like to fall.
Inspired by Kindra’s recent post about Janis Joplin.
Photo by David Gahr via JanisJoplin.com
Angels Ælfar Malakhim
Divine monsters, messengers of truth
Raven whispering in Yeshayahu’s ear.
Arriving in flaming wheel flying saucers,
Transmitting visions into Y’chezqel’s optic nerves.
Fiery Seraphim Ljósálfar,
Flaming sword and mighty scrolls,
Straddling the border between
This world and the otherside,
Underside, beyond the west wind.
Ælfar = Ale-far (Elves)
Malakhim (מַלְאָךְ ) = Mal-a-keem (Hebrew for “messengers,” which was translated into Greek as “ángelos” from which we get the word “Angels”
Yeshayahu (יְשַׁעְיָהוּ) = Yesh-a-ya-hoo (Hebrew, usually translated in English as “Isaiah”)
Y’chezqel (יְחֶזְקֵאל ) = Y’chez-kel (“ch” as in Bach) (Hebrew, usually translated in English as “Ezekiel”)
Seraphim (שְׂרָפִים ) = Ser-a-pheem (Hebrew, meaning “Burning Ones”)
Ljósálfar = l-juice-al-far (Light Elves)
Poem #27 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo)
In answer to the question “How does it feel when your muse runs his fingers through your hair, resting his palms bare on your crown?”
Its like being possessed by an effeminately androgynous angel,
who may not have fallen, but definitely has some explaining to do,
As words and visions pass through my brain, down my arm, and into my right hand,
As if whispered in my ear by a one-eyed raven sitting on my shoulder
Telling me about his day.
There’s a shot of adrenaline to my heart, pupils dilate,
And my hand is compulsed to write everything down,
Sensical or nonsensical, until the episode passes.
My cramping clenched fist tries hard to write legibly,
As the words come faster than I can safely write,
Pain surging arthritically through my bones.
In the end I’m left alone, in a post-coital haze,
To finish and polish the lunatical ravings
Scribbled in my little black notebook.
Poem #25 for National Poetry Writing Month (aka #NaPoWriMo
With thanks to Sarah Doughty for inspiration.
Armed with enchanted Elvish wand-staff,
Glowing Glamdring king-blade,
And wisest wits of wizard-kind.
Mithrandir, wanderer on a pilgrimage for truth.
Ainu, holy one,
Born of the thoughts of the divine,
A lesser chorus in the symphony of god.
Olórin the dreamer,
Youth spent in Valinor,
Servant of sky-father’s sacred flame,
Serving the mighty Blessed One,
Dwelling in the gardens of Lorien,
Learning wisdom, pity and patience.
Sent into the east, across the ocean
With his brother Istari,
In the guise of the wise,
To council Ælfar and men
Against the oncoming shadow from the past.
Struck down executing a demon
Of fire and darkness,
A cousin from long ago,
Sent back clothed in white
To finish what had been started.
White rider, Shadowfax friend,
Wielder of the Sun-flames
That forever banish the darkness.
Angelic and pure
A direct current to God
Divine by nature
But don’t ever forget that
The Devil was an angel.
This poem is my response to Colleen’s Weekly #Tanka #Poetry Challenge #20 – “Angel & Devil”
A journey through history
Before time out of mind
Sifting through the shadows,
Never knowing what you’ll find.
Searching the trails, listening to tales
Written before writing things down,
Looking for original, authentic and real:
Words of infamous renown.
From before the wars
Up through modern times
Absorb and digest every bit
Of these ancient author-less rhymes.
Together we traverse this life,
Shipwrecks on a stormy sea,
Under the cover of shadowy nights,
Where fallen angels live carefree.