Lady of the Harvest

maxine gadd

 

Red berries in her hair
poppy on her lips
the goddess walks the seasons like a path of fine polished stone
knowing every step and fold and twisting
and every turn of earth
each journey of the sun across the sky
is felt in her bloodpulse
now warm and blooming
now cool and drowsing
she whispers to the acorns tales of  the mighty oak
and releases the seeds in measured time
as her mothers tears fall on the greening fields

 

*artwork by maxine gadd*

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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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5 Responses to Lady of the Harvest

  1. risinghawk says:

    Reblogged this on The Fires Inside and commented:
    I’m a little slow – just found this person. I think the poetry is wonderful. Check it out if you like poetry!

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