Daughters of the Wild

Daughters of the Wild

Daughter of the dusk
Soft light and bracken rust
Rugged fields and rivers
Fringed with locks of fluted reeds

Eyes wide open
Lips outspoken
With the words your spirit breathes

Laced up boots and footloose roots
A priestess of the wild
Dear child,
You will breathe the earth alive
Unshaken by sharp teeth

Daughter of the skies
Windswept heaths
And blessed shrines
Feet that kiss the lips of tides
That crawl beneath the moon

A soul attuned
Dear sister
These words, I call to you

Come, hearken
To the starlit night
Unto your self, be true

Daughter of the Moon
Onyx shrouds
And cosmic jewels
Pockets of enchanted runes
A huntress of the stars

By candle flames
And autumn rains
You walk a sylvan path

The blood that runneth
Through your veins
Shall birth a wisdom past

Daughter of the land
Morning dew
And sullied hands
Rituals cast to heal the land
A patron of the wild

Hallowed stones
And whispering bones
A perspicacious mind

The time has come
Dear oracle
To summon up your tribe

Amelia Dashwood © 2017. All Rights Reserved

The Dance of Midsummer

The Dance of Midsummer

Come, dance, my child, the day is young;
Greeteth the moon, the stars and sun.
Lay bare thy feet upon the ground;
Don merry bells and floral crowns.

Set loose your songs of emerald green,
Of crimson skies and sapphire seas,
Of meadows ripe and rivers vast,
Of fables woven of the past.

Rise up, rise up from whence ye be;
The prancing embers beckon thee.
Set tresses wild and spirits high;
The sun commands thy soul to fly.

As maidens dance with hands a-wed;
Lift up thy cup above thy head.
The longest day shalt mark a feast
Of what hath passed and what may be.

With rolling drums and crowing men,
All hail the sun! Our Providence.
May troubles melteth to the breeze
And be replaced with jollity.

Praise be ye lore of better days;
Praise be the Earth, her fruits and grain.
Praise be the moon, the stars and sun.
May summer blesseth everyone!

Amelia Dashwood © 2017, All Rights Reserved

Time

Time

~Time~

Do not
waste your time
endlessly navigating
the ferocious tides
of society’s
artificial designs

do not greet
the morning sunrise
with regret or a sigh
as you sell your soul
from 9 to 5
building someone else’s dreams
in a corporate landmine
just to stay alive

do not judge beauty
on what the media defines
to be your primary duty

because truly

your authenticity
exhibits the rarities
and beloved ancestry
of the tree that will lead you
to the roots
that bore your story

why disguise your glory?

do not build
your hopes and dreams
or grand ideals
without first
making a deal with yourself
to turn them into memories
that are real

go

live out your days
with fire in your soul
grasping your liberty
and building goals
that are brave
and wild
and bold

and know

no matter what you are told
by those with riches to behold
ALL of life is precious
rich or poor
young or old

be humble

because
when you are six feet under
when your body meets the coal
your story will remain
but not your gold

and when the time comes by
when you must whisper your last goodbyes
to the birds
the trees
and the iridescent skies

may you greet your final sunrise with a smile

because you lived a life so wild
that you are ready
to expire

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Photography Tasha Tudor, by Richard Brown

By The Gods

By The Gods


By the Gods, I am free
To unfurl and be me
In a land formed of patience and silence.
By the land and the seas,
I compose my heart’s dreams
As I walk on a path formed of kindness.

By the whispering leaves,
I grow close to the trees
As they humble my soul in their presence.
By their time-stricken boughs,
I abandon my shroud
And unburden my mind of its penance.

By the mountains, I rise
To cerulean skies
And such beauty, my eyes cannot fathom.
By the bright stars above,
I know genuine love
As their magic unleashes my passion.

By the moon matriarch,
I unbury my heart,
For she nurtures my soul and my being.
By the light that she shines,
I can sense The Divine
On the path that my spirit is weaving.

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Image source: thedarkangel.co.uk
Photography by Lunaesque

Fair Maiden of Creation

Fair Maiden of Creation

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Dearest Spring, release your tresses
Chase my bitterness away
Roll your grace to yonder meadows
Draw your light upon my days

And with your sylvan symphony
Invite your emerald jewels to rise
To paint upon the ashen meadows
Glistening sights before my eyes.

Although the chimes of morningtide
Do holler their impertinent rings
I shall arise with jollity
And springtime drafts upon my wings.

Away! The solemness of winter
May your gloom oblige no more
Arise! Fair maiden of creation
Brimming with beloved awe.

As feathered friends leap gleefully
Above the roaring waterfalls
The villagers confront their homes
And brighten up the cottage walls.

With mighty plans and great intent
They sweep away their dusty woes
With visions of abundant fields
And trellises of reddened rose.

The ghostly scenes of rolling mists
Reluctantly come to an end
The earthy fork tucked into soil
Awakens to his redbreast friend.

And when each bud and thirsty bloom
Presents itself unto the skies
Oh, let this be the final view
I ever see before my eyes.

The void of Winter now withdraws
And with it, idling declines
As Eden stretches out her wings
Her paradise shall be divine!

The tepid breeze shall kiss my face
Cerulean skies, I shall admire
To watch the world awakening
My yearning eyes shall never tire.

Observing death with all its woes
Its fading light disheartens me
But then, upon Spring’s providence
An endless promise, I do see.

I hearken to creation’s call
As every precious season turns,
Reminding me upon my path
“Of Dust thou art, to Dust thou shalt return.”

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.