Journey of the Heart

  Bright One   Blessings to you from the earth  This Brigids day morning  Dawn of the new day  And new season has sprung.  Blessings to you from the wind  On which your poetry carries  Far and wide, land to land.  Watching over the people who see That the maiden breathes warm air  Over flowers for land  Be they edible or medicine  Blessings from the bright one  Brigid sends blessings among you  As water runs clear and cool The babies will come now winter ends  All hail Brigid bringing her blessings  To you bright one.  ©️AilsaCawleyPoetry 2020 Ailsa Cawley :   I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. You may find my writings on my website  here , or follow  me on  Twitter  or  Facebook . *For submission guidelines,  click here. *

  Return to Brigid’s Altar Puddles, broken oak tree branches, sharp stones interrupt her voyage. Many crossroads ahead, voices echoing turn right, turn left, turn back. Without a map, onward she boldly steps.   The song of honey bee guides her forward. Burning rushes lingering scent, soothing any inner lament. Walking now past a graveyard,  smouldering bones of all   she walked away from, all who walked out on her. Cackling laughs at her chosen cloaked path. Alas! Hope smiles snowdrops and fresh grass, signs of Spring breathe Winter has passed.   Fearless she tip-toes towards the foggy green forest. The mist fingering her bare blackened feet. No time to rest. The beat of her warrior heart thieves any fears of defeat.   Her soul is nourished by the distant sight, the fire, the skies, the flames alight. Daughter of Brigid, on your path though you may falter, you too will arrive. One day you will return to Brigid’s Blessed Imbolc Altar. Yvonne Brewer   lives in Cork, Ireland and has had p

    An Exotic Flower I could paint the most exquisite rose From the gentle stroke of my mind, As the beautiful face of my mother   My thoughts flashing as silver ripples to glisten on my liquified lashes When I recall and remember   Her magical glow of rose pink, a glittering beacon in a light house Guiding my steps through all weather   Ever glowing -ever warming Always beside me as my shadow Helping me mold, holding her finger    Regardless of unpredictable seasons Her sweet fragrance still lingers rejuvenating my soul with such vigor   Just like it did as I lay within her unborn a fountain of unconditional love, she was that makes my heart flutter   Caressing the rough patches through the years with her sweet nectar for sustenance She was my partner, my soul sister     Her petals one by one had lifted me up  every time I fell, brushing the dust  gathered on my earthly cover   Till one fatal twist of fate Forcibly separated the chord That wove our souls together   Dispersing its shat

Flame in the Snow My feet are blue with cold As I trudge the snowy hills To find the signs of those gone Ahead, leaving wispy wisdom Like golden coins in the drifts Of feather-like flakes. Heart thudding as I hear a whisper. It is your turn to pick up the baton The lit torch in your path. Forge on with it: it’s magical light Guide for head and heart. My feet cold no longer I see. I am clad in shoes to protect- A cloak grown warmer around me, Heart steadier and surer That my path, however different, Is the right one to take... And so I shall. Head bowed I thank the ancestors, The hills and wind, The quiet-now gone-and a bird sings Heralding my newness. Ailsa Cawley :   I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. You may find my writings on my website  here , or follow  me on  Twitter  or  Facebook . *For submi