Sunday, January 21, 2007

My poetry

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have written a great many poems to Iris. I am still writing them even though I know that she will never read them. It’s a way of coming to terms with my loss. Every time I write a verse, she seems so very close to me.
It is said that true poetry is the mirror of the soul. It reflects one’s dreams; one’s wishes. It releases thoughts that would otherwise be hidden. It comforts and it sooths the mind.
Rarely, and I mean very rarely, I write poetry about someone else. This has happened only a couple of times since Iris died. On both these occasions, I was writing about someone I knew and liked. There was no affair; it was just a happy friendship. Recently, I have been given great comfort by someone who has become a very close friend. I mentioned her in a previous posting.
I dedicate this poem to her:

To The Fair Witch Of Wicca

She is the mistress of your mind
And takes you through forgotten years.
She weaves her spell and you will find
A refuge from your hidden fears.

She stares into the crystal ball
And sees into the shadows there.
Her prophecies are there for all
And spurn her warnings if you dare!

Who is she then, this wondrous one
Who probes into your secret ways?
A welcome witch, or charlatan
Who conjures up your yesterdays?

She is no hag nor devil’s bane,
A whiter witch one could not see
But she controls all things arcane,
This fairest beauty; Bless├ęd be!

1 comment:

Ellie said...

I've known you for about 10 years now. If we'd been a little closer, you might have written a poem to me. I'd have loved that.