Skip to main content

AND WE WOULD BE FREE by Zoe Quiney

I have always had a fascination with the moon and the ocean…

Their connection is like an intimate relationship, of trust, surrender and guidance. I am lucky to live next to the ocean, and, upon witnessing the magic of the pull of the moon to the ocean; her tides, and our moods, it inspired me to write a love poem based on this infinite, sensual and ethereal bond we share with nature.  

And We Would Be Free
by Zoe Quiney

I'd like you to understand me,
The way the moon understands
The ocean.
To trace your hands along my soul
Like waves as they gently kiss
The shore.

I'd like you to take my hand
And hold a thousand different lives;
Reincarnated wishes and desires 
Nestled against your skin.

You would paint my dreams
Among the stars,
Taking me to other worlds
With your words.

Our hearts would find the answers
To every forgotten question;
As we strip away the layers
To reveal our souls.

And we would be free.


Zoe Quiney: “I'm a part time writer and full time dreamer with a penchant for anything or anyone weird, amusing, interesting and beautiful. I believe in creating your own heaven on earth and I find inspiration in people and places that calm my soul. I want to leave something meaningful behind in this lifetime, even if it's just a nice poem. You may connect with me on Facebook here. Or find me on my blog  or tumbler here.”







~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without