"GOTHIC MIST"

GOTHIC MIST

harlequin without his diamond pattern
stars in the eyes of cold columbine
pierrot and pierette waltzing together
they have their love now, but you aren't mine

even pooh has a teddy to sleep with
but it has gone from full to darkened moon,
and i will disappear into the background
if you don't come and love me soon

i hold velvet to my body, cry salt oceans
send shadows and fog to creep and mist,
sing chanting spells to call you to me...
i'd sell my blood to feel your kiss


© Copyright 1/10/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Feelings Of An Indigo's Heart



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Synopsis

This positive and uplifting poetry book is about inspiring others to reach their higher self from within in the hope of caring for each other.

The Indigo Woman

The Indigo woman Needs love from others

She will feel better

The Indigo woman feels different She knows it 

The Indigo woman needs to be understood She feels lonely

The Indigo woman wants to share some secrets She is scared to share them

The Indigo woman feels suffocated She needs to be listened to
 
The Indigo woman wants the world to be a better place She needs you to be a part of it

The Indigo woman wants to tell you how precious you are She needs to tell you
 
The Indigo woman doesn't want any more segregation For a better world

The Indigo woman wants peace in the world For a better world

The Indigo woman wants justice for those who Can't express themselves For a better world

The Indigo woman wants you to share some love with others For a better world

The Indigo woman wants you to be happy She cares about you Care for yourself Care for others you don't know Know that they care about you You are a part of the world The world needs you 

_________________________
Excerpted from Feelings Of An Indigo's Heart by Annick Nouatin Copyright © 2010 by Annick Nouatin. 

Poetry: "Prayer"

Let me not rush madly after fame
Or waste time on wishing
Hi-light on my name.
But give me longing
For the greater parts,
Love, grace and understanding
Which ought to be in all our hearts.

▪ Maria Gilberté,
Poetess & Elder

"A Morning Walk to Meditate"

A MORNING WALK TO MEDITATE

Today I got up and headed for some coffee,
Bringing my circlet of roses with me on the way.
I jammed it on my head as I buttered toast
And boiled an egg for protein and my health.

I forgot to take off the circlet in the shower
So the roses were kinda wilted when i stepped out
But what the hay, they look good with wet hair.
I threw on my purple muu muu and my sneakers,

And headed out for a morning walk with nature.
I whistled for my dog JoJo to come with me,
He gets so pissed off when I forget.
I decided to take note of the types of birds

That go soaring so far above us;
JoJo always chases all the little animals
So there is no way I could miss any of them.
It feels so good to feel the sun against my face

(I always wear the lotions with SPF blockers in them).
Lots of pinecones are on the ground to trip over,
And squirrels that like to fuss at JoJo from the trees.
It's so great to meditate in the mornings,

While I walk to get rid of my extra cellulite!
The breeze feels so good when I'm not wearing underwear,
As long as I don't sit down to rest with JoJo
And forget about crawling ants and my grass allergy.


© Copyright 2/29/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

"The Tiles of Blood"

THE TILES OF BLOOD

I wandered outside my castle room this morning
Still in nightdress, for no one was about.
Then I felt the door lock behind me,
And whirled around...

Things had changed in the courtyard
Half of the walls were as they had always been,
And some of them were upside down,
With a gap at the bottom like they were on the top.

I am afraid of heights, and screamed for help
But no one came.
Then suddenly, on the tiles where I was standing
Was bright red blood, spreading fast!

I could not get away from it on my bare feet
Unless I climbed up the walls.
Since some were upside down with castle-top first,
I was afraid I would fall from the walls

No matter which part of them I climbed.
I screamed again and fainted,
And awoke covered in blood.
I leaned against a sturdy wall to catch my breath,

But was afraid it would crumble behind me
Or that I would suddenly be atop the walls.
"What have I done?" I screamed,
"Why is this happening to me?"

Then I saw a transparent white figure
Wavering in and out until it was solid.
It was Helga, my foster-sister until this year
Who had fallen from the castle walls.

Even in death she was very beautiful,
The one who had drawn all the menfolk to her
And especially my betrothed, Sweet Almert.
I hoped that her spirit did not know

That I had paid the stable-boy to push her
And given him a horse to leave the castle.
It seemed an accident to every one,
For they knew she loved Almert and was in despair.

Almert loved her too, and I would not share him!
She drew nearer to me, held out her hand
And pushed it against my cheek.
"You have the choice you did not give me,"
She said.

"You can wear always this bloody handprint
And it will never leave your skin,
Or you can walk through this space
Where the tower top touches the ground;

You will not have as far to fall as I did."
I cried for mercy, but she gave me none.
"Almert will recognize my hand," she said;
He is obliged to marry, but he will hate you."

I asked her for the love we bore each other
Before Almert came into our lives,
If she would hold my hand as I walked into space.
And she did, for she loved me still.


© Copyright 2/26/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

"Your Moods"

YOUR MOODS

Even the candles go out when you walk by,
I think you intimidate the hell out of them.
It's easier to crouch in a corner when you are angry,
But some day your head is going to explode
And I don't want that messy fallout all over me!

I'm not sure if you take bad moods to a new low
Or to a new high, but for sure, they are sooo annoying.
Sometimes I dream of lobbing dinner dishes at you,
With all kinds of spaghetti and junk still on them.
Even my familiar slinks behind the chair

When you are in one of your moods;
(My spirit guides just make an excuse, and disappear).
Even our resident ghost doesn't start moaning
Until you've had about five whiskies and passed out.
I looked in the phone book today under "Hitman,"

But just couldn't find one that wasn't too expensive.
I guess I'll just have to do the job myself.
I looked in the yellow pages under "Poisons",
But it seemed like an awful lot of trouble...
After all, by now I am used to you.


© Copyright 2/27/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

"The Adventurous Witch"

THE ADVENTUROUS WITCH

I shall put my witches hat on my head,
Grab my cloak, and go out into the world!
My broom has a knapsack tied to it
With a change of clothes, my spell book
And a tiny statue (or two) of the Goddess.

I shall walk on foot to tone up my body
And avoid fast food places on the way.
When I get tired, my broom can carry me,
High up near the stars, to wave at the moon.
It is time for my Vision Quest, witchy style.

Who knows who and what I may encounter?
Life is such an adventure, anyway
And I am tired of it just being a damn soap opera.
(There is one soap opera that I like to watch
But I couldn't fit the mini-tv in my knapsack).

As it becomes dark, I can see energies
Swirling all around me and my cat Scratchie...
(Did I forget to mention my familiar)?
Too bad I couldn't shrink a lover
And bring him along in case I get horny.

The only thing about shrinking people is,
Spells can boomerang at times. Yep.
When I get sleepy I will find a place to land
Hopefully someplace soft and dry
So I can cuddle up in my cloak and rest.

I have found out the hard way before
That it is not a good thing to fall asleep
While flying the broomstick...
Scratchie got SO mad at me the last time!
I had to try to heal my broken ribs myself

And had to walk scrunched over for awhile.
But I digress, as usual.
Anyway, back to the stars and adventure.
It gets tiresome being a secret witch
And not getting to zap anybody that bugs me!

Peaceful thoughts, peaceful thoughts...
I can see that nature isn't going to do it,
I will have to meditate as well
And I didn't bring my yoga pillow for posture.
I did bring a few candles

But dammitall, I forgot the matches
And I'm not good with Fire Elementals.
Salamanders just look too much like lizards,
Don't you think so?
I wonder where there are mice for Scratchie?

Well, anyway I look damn sexy
With my black velveteen cloak with red lining
And my quilted leather spike boots
OMG! I forgot to bring deodorant.
Oh well, I will just look for nature spirits

And ask where the nearest stream is
And what they use for soap.
This is really a new learning curve for me,
Going Back to Nature, being a Green Witch
Just like my ancestors!
...This will be such fun?...

© Copyright 2/4/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

"FEARFUL HEART"

FEARFUL HEART

My heart is winged and dancing
But my body is fastened to this chair
I am afraid to live, afraid to love you;
And all the while, you're unaware.

But I am reaching out to Goddess
No longer held motionless in trance;
I touch your face, I kiss your sweet lips
And now my heart begins to dance.


© Copyright 1/10/08
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Pan

THE GREAT NAIAD-DRYAD FEUD

The Naiads and the Dryads were having a feud,
Because there were only so many satyrs to go around;

And (let’s face it), a girl has needs! At least the nereids,

The sea nymphs, didn’t get into it...thank the goddess

For small favors, on that one. Naiads are water nymphs

And Dryads are tree nymphs, so actually they are sort

Of cousins.


The bickering was getting worse and worse every day;

Plus the few satyrs there were, were getting worn out

With all the love-making. This is soooo unusual for

Satyrs. They were getting kinda desperate for a little

Sleep. Since they were used to being the ones doing

The chasing, this was bad for their self-esteem, as

Horny and hairy Satyrs.


The fighting came to a head when Merlida the naiad

Scratched the bark of Polyertia the dryad, and caused

Some green sap blood to flow. Polyertia screamed

In fury, and started pulling out the hair of the water

Nymph, and scratching her face. Then Merlida tried

To drown Polyertia. (You see how things were going).


The animals were getting very distressed at all the

Racket, especially the fauns, who just wanted to play,

And were very peace-loving. They all got together

In a conclave with the other animals, and decided that

The only thing to do was to go looking for the nature

God Pan, and let him settle things.


They were also hoping Pan knew where some other

Satyrs were, because the hormones of the different

Types of nymphs all went wacko when they were horny,

Just like human women. When the Satyrs got horny

And were frustrated, they just fought among themselves

With clubs and bellowed a lot, and then got drunk.

Simple. They never pulled hair like the nymphs.


After a couple of days’ walk, the animals and their

Spokesperson, the faun Attimas, finally found Pan.

He was sitting by a stream, playing his pipes,

Surrounded by beautiful naiads and dryads, and

Several of the larger fairies. They were all draped

Near him, looking beautiful and gazing at him with

Soulful eyes; giving him water and fruit when needed.


Pan asked Attimas why they were disturbing his

Artistic playing. When they explained about all the

Ruckus back in the forest, Pan rolled his eyes but finally

Roused himself enough to stand up and stretch. Of course,

Since he didn’t wear anything, the nymphs really admired

His stretch.


The advice he gave was this: that Attimas and some of the

Fauns were getting old enough to help the Satyrs out

With the nymphs. And in the meantime, he would send

Messengers to some of the heroes and demi-gods who were

Unattached, to come take up the slack (so to speak).

Just then, a deer came up, all out of breath.


He told Pan and the animals that they had better hurry,

Because the fighting had escalating from name-calling,

Scratching and hair-pulling, to socking and using rocks!

When some of the worn-out Satyrs had tried to sneak off

To get more sleep, and they were getting hit too.

Pan realized then that things called for stronger measures,


So he asked some someone to fetch Orpheus right away.

Then they all set off in an entourage, the animals, half-

Humans, demi-gods, heroes, and even a couple of centaurs.

There were a lot of nymphs in the forest and streams, so they

Needed plenty of reinforcements!

Finally they all arrived at the large forest. Pan asked

Orpheus to play a ‘calling’ tune on his lyre, and all the


Nymphs and Satyrs came. They were a sorry-looking lot, too.

The nymphs were all battered and scratched, the Satyrs were

Very tired and had some bruises. Pan talked to the whole

Assemblage, “Now. This is how it is going to be. First

Orpheus is going to play some soft music so everyone can

Rest and get plenty of sleep. After that, everyone wash up

And gather fruits and nuts.


Then…we are going to have a party! I have asked Bacchus

To come and bring some wine, and we are going to have a

Good ole Bacchanalian orgy! There are enough males to go

Around now. Okay, everyone! Rest up so we can PARTY!”

And that was how Pan solved the great Naiad-Dryad feud.


© Copyright 11/21/05

Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

Homeric Hymn to Gaia

XXX. To Earth, Mother of All

Of Gaia sing I, Mother firm of all,
the eldest one, who feedeth life on earth,
whichever walk on land or swim the seas,
or fly; sustaineth She each from Her Wealth.
Through Thee the folk are blest in child and fruit,
O Queen, who giveth and reclaimeth Life
of mortals; rich whoe'er it pleaseth Thee
to honor; all abundance is for them;
their fertile land is fruitful; through the fields
their flocks do thrive; their house is filled with goods.
They rule well-ordered states with women fair,
and ample wealth and riches follow them;
their sons exult with youthful merriment;
their daughters play in dances flower-strewn
with happy heart, and skip through fields abloom.
Such givest Thou, Holy Rich Divinity.

So hail, God-Mother, Starry Heaven's Wife;
repay my song with pleasing sustenance!
Of Thee I'm minded - and another song.

Biblioteca Arcana

http://www.cs.utk.edu/~mclennan/BA/HH.html

"PIECES OF MYSELF"

PIECES OF MYSELF

I tore off little pieces of my flesh,
And handed them to you. "Here", I said,
"Now love me. Or if you can’t love me,
Then let me be myself."

But the pieces of flesh were not enough
For you. "Give me more, give me all of
Yourself, hand over all your hopes and
Dreams."

I wound pieces of cloth around the bloody
Gashes. I stuck pieces of paper to the smaller
Wounds. There was peace for awhile.

Then came the first time that our wishes
And goals clashed. More pieces of myself
Were needed, to keep the peace.

This time the pieces of cloth had to be wider;
The tears that dripped upon the wounds
To heal them with their salt, were heavier
And more bitter.

Then came a time when I had outgrown
The need to be constrained. This time, you
Tried to tear of pieces of me yourself;
But I had learned to love myself, by that time.

"No," I said. And then I said a little prayer,
And felt a peace come over me. "I am
A child of the Great Mother, and am whole
In that love.

Never again will anyone take pieces from
Me, either of my flesh, or of my heart; and
Love freely given and freely taken, does
Not take away, but adds to the soul."


© Copyright 11/1/05
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

"STORM BATTLE"

STORM BATTLE

Blue gray storm clouds covered the sun
I see them floating about and getting thicker;
they look threatening and fierce,
ready to destroy us with their storms.

We look small below them and unimportant
they can crush us with cold rain and hail,
frighten us with their thunder
and the spears of the lightnings they send.

I can see behind the clouds! There are warriors,
blue gray warriors hiding, ready to spring
throwing their spears, pelting us with hail,
flattening the earth so they can rule again.

It must be the Norse warriors... the fiercer ones,
not the bright Valkyries on their flying horses.
Perhaps they are enemies, let us call;
call to the Valkyries to protect us!

Here they come, whirling around on their steeds,
bright hair swirling, battle cries with high notes,
fighting the dark, fierce warriors
who would destroy us with the thunder and hail.

What beautiful armor, white winged horses,
bows and arrows, runes on their armbands...
swoop down so I may ride behind you
let me be a battle-maiden too, serving Freya!

Teach me your battle-cries, paint my face with runes,
proud warriors! May I be your sister?
Like glittering Brisingamen, the sun shines again,
glowing upon your armor...

The shadow warriors dissipate, the clouds roll away,
the Valkyries have won the battle.
My warrior sisters must fly back to Valhalla,
but they will come for me in the dream-time.


© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

"A DAUGHTER OF ISIS"

A DAUGHTER OF ISIS

Everywhere I go, storms form and roil
Around me; soon the darkness gathers,
And the wind whips at my gown.
The thunder rumbles along with me as I
Walk, it moves me forward, and
Comforts me with it's familiar sound.

The lightning flashes it's brightness,
Comes through through me with it's
Power, and fires shoot from my hands.
Beware! do not come near me;
There is danger in my wild beauty, and I
Have learned sorcery from distant lands.

I have come from Egypt, as a daughter
of Isis and learned in her magicks, both
Dark and bright. Even the stars above
Are captured in my cloak...see them?
And they will burn you, as I will...
So do not talk of passion, or of love.

I draw the large cats to me, they come
From many lands, to curl near me and purr
And tear apart those who seek to hold
One who only plays with mortal kind;
Practicing storms in the quiet desert until
Great Mother calls me back to her fold.

I have never known a human man, nor
Have I been touched. I play with fires
And destinies, yet something is absent
From my heart. Even furry cats cannot take
The place of love, though it is only a vague
Thought or memory, a fleeting sense....

Of what could be. But you dare not touch me,
I am an immortal, a handmaid though still free;
Free to play at life with humans as my dolls...
They are unable to be my equal, yet humans
Have what I lack; my heart is unused and withering.
Soon my Soul will die, caring not what befalls.

I have wandered too far from the love of the
Mother; played too often with thunder and fire.
I was human once, a Pharoah's queen;
Then fires of immortality burned my heart.
Now I amuse myself with humans as a game,
And deep inside, grieve what might have been.


© Copyright 10/17/05
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

"BARBECUE AND DANCE"

BARBECUE AND DANCE

Lukewarm beer and cold champagne
Well, one out of two isn't bad...
At least the barbecue here isn't tough,
Even if I can't get my husband George to dance
Since it's mostly square dancing music.

I tried to line dance, but my bra strap
Kept falling down, and it made me lose count.
There's nothing worse than lukewarm beer.
My brother-in-law Clyde is here with his prissy wife.
That doesn't thrill me one bit!

SaraNell's gotten a new fashion frizzy perm
That she is sure to brag about (always does);
She must have three inches of black roots showing.
Heehee! Serves her right.
She never knew her ass from her elbow anyway.

Gawd! Don't tell me Clyde is going to try and dance
With me, he is all feet and must be size 13, too.
Yep, he is...dammit! Ouch!
If we didn't owe them money, I would sock him one.
Or even better, knee him. Clumsy idiot.

I think the lukewarm beer is coming back up on me,
Maybe if I was to back it down with some champagne?
Mmmm! Tastes pretty good. I think it says Cold Duck.
Now that is an odd name for champagne.
Stop whirling me around, George. It makes me dizzy.

How are the children? Well hell, I don't know.
They are all over eighteen anyway. You go look for them.
I'm having another glass of the Cold Duck stuff. *hic*
Come on, George! Show 'em how fast your feet can move!
Whoopsie!.... I think I will sit the next one out.


© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

"MERRY MEET"

MERRY MEET

Black heart, cold feet
Dirty hands, sticky treat;
Hairy head, sad sad heart
Merry meet and merry part.

Sickly pale, sickly sweet
Icy knees, prickly heat;
Bucky teeth, oh so smart
Merry meet and merry part.

Round and round, back again
Full of chocolate, full of pain;
Stick together, pull apart
Merry meet and merry part.

Pointed hats and flat chapeaus
Fishnet stockings, moldy hose;
Big red dragon, a pony cart
Merry meet and merry part.


© August 2005
Beth Johnson
(Mystic Amazon)

"ENCHANTMENT"

ENCHANTMENT

I have let my hair down
To feel it flowing all around me,
And my feet and I are bare.

I will follow you wherever you go
You cannot run from me,
Or I will send my laughter

Out upon the wind to haunt you
And I will sing softly,
Sing you back to me

And you will have no choice.
I will touch you with these fingers
Gently, upon your shoulder

So you cannot move.
Now my enchantments swirl
In colors, all around you

Holding you in place.
I will not let you leave me,
Only my lips will ever kiss you.

You have tried to break my magicks
But my chains are pulling tight
Yes, tighter still around you.

I am wearing scented oils
Blended with my blood and yours
Oh, turn back to me with love...

Or stay a prisoner and enchanted!
A frozen statue without kisses,
With only memory's torment.


© Copyright 7/07/07
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Poetry by Mystic Raven: "THREE TIMES FOR THE RUNES"

THREE TIMES FOR THE RUNES

I threw the Runes three times
Three times they told me you were faithless,
Three times I screamed at them.

I went outside and howled
So our children could not hear me
Innocents all, fast asleep and dreaming.

I saw the cooking fires near our hut,
Visions in the smoke came to me
And you were holding her

I saw your gold armband
Runes I painted on it to keep you safe,
And she was in your arms.

I threw the Runes three times,
Three times they told me you were faithless
I screamed for your death,

And stabbed my dagger into the smoke.
I saw you fall, and as you fell
You turned and saw me

Saw me, though so far away
Took off your armband and threw it,
And it landed at my feet.

Now I have only a bloody armband
The sight of you in her arms, laughing
And your eyes in our children's faces.


© Copyright 7/07/07
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Poetry by Mystic Raven : "THE BARS ACROSS MY HEART"

THE BARS ACROSS MY HEART

My love kept me in the house
Anxiously trying to please him,
Hovering around so he wouldn't criticize.
I used to see bars on the windows and doors

But the way he treated me,
I might as well have been wearing
A chastity belt, because
The cruel behavior locked up my love;

So I took my heart back
And it belonged only to me.
Now it belongs to the love I feel
Toward the Lord and Lady,

And the love and compassion
That I feel coming from Them.
And there are no locks
No more prison bars;

The only thing that holds me back
Is when i lose faith in myself,
Because I know that the Deities
Believe in me, and I am Their daughter.

It's not that easy to accept freedom
I have been used to limitations
First placed on me by others,
Then placed on me by myself.

What is it like to be free? I don't know...
I hope You will teach me,
Teach me to love strongly and deeply,
So my heart will glow with a Divine Spark.


© Copyright 7/07/07
Beth Clare Johnson (Mystic Raven)

Poetry by Mystic Raven: "IS LOVE AN ILLNESS?"

IS LOVE AN ILLNESS?

Sometimes it seems that
Love is just a disease,
And without it life is meaningless
But with it, well...

There has to be enough chemistry
And several cups of passion
With a lot of affection
And very little sarcasm

Or things overbalance
In one way or another,
And then it gets depressing
Tears dripping all over the place

And you wonder why bother
Until the next time you are yanked
To and fro by feelings,
Totally bewildered with the angst
Of it

Angry and sulky with Eros,
Shooting you with the damned arrows
Not enough to be unselfish,
Just enough to get frustrated

When things aren't romantic
Or you get bored with sameness;
Or someone else looks better
Without his shirt on the beach, mmm.

Wishing you could go back
And start over again with old lovers
But knowing they would still
Drop you for someone in spike heels

Wondering what is true love anyway
And how to find it,
Looking in the mirror at someone
That's older and crankier

And less likely to put up with any crap
Or play games like she used to,
Although flirting is okay
As long as there are ground rules

I think I'll go into the closet and cry
Until I get the courage to call,
Call out to the Old Ones and ask
If I can go running with Diana and Pan

Banging on a drum and singing,
With all the wildness that must be
In there SOMEWHERE
Throwing pine cones and laughing

Not worrying about the status quo
And measuring up to an ideal
Just being natural and dancing
Barefooted in the forest

Wearing flowers on my head
And not very much else...
(Thank God no one wears girdles anymore,
Especially in the forest)!


© Copyright 7/06/07
Beth Clare Johnson
(Mystic Raven)

Poetry: "Magic"

"Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back, you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring water; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With hiw own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art."

Ovid

Ancient Roman Poet

(43 BCE - 17 CE)

As translated by William Shakespeare

in

The Tempest

Act 5, Scene 1