Nocturnes IV Owl Goddess

the owl goddess plasma twin

 

No living breath stirs the leaves
claws extended she settles on the highest branch
tossing back her long claret hair
Opal sheened her eyes gaze heavy lidded
with farsight
into the forest as the shadows grow
an owl bows before her
while hawk and raven wheel above
calling out with awe and adoration for the huntress
the First
the merciless one
death comes on silent wings for the unwary
or the too trusting
her madness is that of wild things
rapacious hunger and desire
swollen and layered through the centuries
like a poisonous pearl uncompromising
uncaring
knowing neither time nor season
only the now
and the tempestuous winds
as she moves inexorably through the ages
ever and always beautifully
ruthlessly
and gracefully insane

*artwork by plasma twin*

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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