Give Me the Woods

Give me the woods
with their bears and their bees
with their babbling brooks
and the sway-top trees

Give me the woods
with their moss and their ferns
with the dripping-wet leaves
the land my heart yearns

Give me the woods
with fox bear and bird
with hollows and glens
and no sound or a word

Give me the woods
with the cabin and stove
with the smoke curling high
and so far that we drove

Give me the woods
where one becomes lost
becomes one with the trees
I would have it, just tell me the cost

~Copyright 2014 Isáine of The Twisted Tree

Kaleidoscope ey…

Kaleidoscope eyes float along crystalline waters watching stars falling to an ocean below where we swim through swirling eddies of dreams merging and parting as we dance the tides and sing songs in tongues long lost to human minds but known to the dirt and the fish and the stars….
The Moon, She saw. She sees all. Like the Sun. They watch, taking turns floating across the sky, keeping a weathered eye on the world below. They see our pain they see our lies. They see our happiness and our surprise. But they never tell, they don’t speak a word. They float across the sky and weep and laugh, for they see our demise.

~ Isáine, the Witch of the Wyldwood

 

And Here I Stand, at the ‘Tween Place

And here I stand, at the ‘tween place, where earth and rock meets water’s edge.

I cast my gaze out over the mist-covered sheen of dark eternity.

Leaves and detriment float slowly by, rising and sinking in and out of sight.

The sky is grey, the wind has the bite of Winter’s Coming,

Raising gooseflesh on my bones.

I lean nearer, peering close, my reflection distorted on the water’s surface.

The rocky shoreline digs into my knees and palms,

My hair brushes past to skim the water, reaching.

Darkness falls and from the shadows the lights dance,

Spinning out onto the blackness that lies outstretched before me.

I stand, yearning to join them, and take a step.

Into the water, dark and cold, I walk, until the dark chasm closes over me

My last breath left frost upon the air,

My last sight that of foxfire in the trees.

Original Poem by Isáine, First Posted on her other blog, The Witch of the Wyldwood, in December of 2012. 

I Seep Into the Green Things…

Coming softly, the sound of feet.

Ever closer, to me they’ll meet.

Softly thudding, sound dampened by the earth.

Coming closer, I will near my time of birth.

Walking on, head held high.

Drawing near, my death is nigh.

Stepping through, my body ripped and torn.

Shattered silently, my mind is scorned.

Slowly sinking, I seep into the green things.

Lilting gently, my soul light as downy wings.

Taking breaths, I feel myself take a shape from lore.

Shaking softly, I am reborn once more.

— Copyright 2012

Originally posted at Isáine’s blog, http://witchofthewyldwood.tumblr.com December 13, 2012