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

Yesteryear

Yesteryear

DmIrcPluVsA~Yesteryear~

once upon a golden time…

we suffered
not without a fight
we stood
for what we felt was right
and fought
against relentless tides

we saw our faults
with open eyes
we searched the stars
for far-off life

we strived to keep our human rights
and rescued nations from demise

we waged a war against starvation
ousting fascists of damnation
oil was not a stipulation
used against our liberation

children did not want for more
tabloids did not favour war

we drafted laws
and proclamations
to support
not starve the poor

we mastered science
cured diseases
revered life throughout the seasons

read the verses of dead poets
and aspired to grasp
their meanings

life was lived with little debt
giving alms with no regret

we spoke for those
who could not speak
unsheltered by the internet

we welcomed knowledge
not disdain
we revered champions
not the vain

we fed our families
love and virtue…

values lost to video games

we nurtured plots
with stainless seeds
without prosperity or greed

we passed on wisdom of the ages
through the roots of ancestry

we recognised our strengths
our weakness
prized divergence
praised uniqueness

loved the land we stood upon
hands on hearts
we rallied on

we fought for one
and won for all

we valued age
from young to old

we did not want
or crave the fortunes
of a banker’s filthy gold

we stood in solidarity
in times of deep austerity
we helped our neighbours
readily

and did not scare so easily

we listened well
admitting failure
taught good manners
and behaviour

ate our greens
and valued Nature

life back then was never greater

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, 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

Phoenix Rising

Phoenix Rising

11998826_913619322051306_1777547489879236911_n~Phoenix Rising~

O, to live a humble life
A life that fortune cannot pawn
Beyond the twisted fallacies
Of hoodwinked fools with egos torn.

To walk where fleeting ravens caw
In pastures free of mankind’s sting
To live each day considerately
Beside my muse, the feral wind.

To seek out life’s philosophy
Without a pre-recorded script
Below a pool of glistening stars
I’ll be the master of my ship.

To meekly live beyond
The countless burdens of society
Upon a solitary path
Regardless of propriety.

Life vexes me to comprehend
Why liberty is steeply priced
I long to claim what is my right
To answer to no Lord or Sire.

To sense what is invisible
To confront false realities
To live each day, remembering
It is my birthright to be free.

Society may pity me
Though I seek nothing more than bliss
Is it too hard to recognise
A phoenix rising from the depths?

With open eyes, I’ll spread my wings
And flee the flames of wretchedness
Upon my path, I shall withhold
The key to my own happiness.

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

The Humble Road

The Humble Road

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~The Humble Road~

I need not want for fame or merit, precious jewels upon my neck, fine fashions weaved of lavish fabrics, palaces to call my nest; I need not want for beauty that coerces me to sell my soul, or profits of a greedy banker, hoarding all his filthy gold.

For mine shall be a humble den, a pot of tea, a window pane, a feline friend to greet me through the hours of my treasured days. A beehive’s hum shall soothe my ears as sunlight pours upon my rest; a feathered pilgrim twittering shall be the chorus I love best.

Grant me the whispers of a breeze as I sleep by a glowing hearth, a belly that is humbly filled, a heart connected to the earth, and I shall live a happy life, deficient of conformity; I’ll walk an old but gentle road, conversant with simplicity.

And when my time is withering, I’ll look towards Atlantic skies with hand on heart I’ll know I’ve lived a life that fortune cannot buy. For ours is not to plunder Earth with blindfolds fixed upon our heads; mankind was born to praise and love the path of which he meekly treads.

No riches shall ensnare my soul, for comfort lies within the land; dear Mother Earth sustains my life and swells the cup within my hand. And all I am I owe to her, the blood that runneth through my veins, dear maker of my merry soul and guardian of my precious days.

© 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Photo: Tasha Tudor, by Richard Brown