Count Voivode’s Valentine
I love you. And your heart of darkness, shadow, and shade.
Platinum light and flashes of white,
Almost grey, but silver instead.
An elevation of the night.
Like the face of the Moon and Starlight.
I love you. And the shape of the shadow upon your lips.
The dark sound in the cave where your voice lives,
Treacle and sweet,
But softly spoken, darkly
Slipping on tongues like blood over teeth.
I love you. And the night, especially the Moon and Her light.
Her creatures on wings softly
Embracing and chilling, but still they fly. Susurrus
Dry, though their eyes hear Our Heart stop.
Stop. Beating and thrilling.
A Pulp Heart, and a motion of thought all encompassing
Thudding, until it lands in hands open
Globally, desperate and longing.
Careful of where you send such thoughts wandering.
I love you, and the Black Moon’s light,
The shade, and the sorrow of deepest night,
Blood over lips like oily lies flowing,
Tastes of death, salt,
Iron and alchemy, growing.
Black Crow flying and a dark rose blooming,
The jewels are plucked from the humid soil,
But still full of life, collapsing, unfolding.
Emerging into the eternal night.
A legacy of love. Withholding, Light.
Sacral Inner Space
I was not loved, the mother said.
I was not loved at work,
Or for the ugly words I spoke
When I walked upon my path.
I was not loved when I spoke my truth
Nor was I loved when I said,
Do not treat me that way.
I was not loved for all I gave
And all I took, Ignorant
Of all the paths already made,
Disdained and filled with hate.
I am not loved without, the mother said.
It is only within, where I find myself
Hated and loved equally.
By my own shadow who bares her wounds,
Vermillion, raw and red.
I was not loved when I cried in pain
And joy, the mother said.
I was not loved that day
By you or my own self.
But by every mother who ever created,
Elevated, I was the same.
I was not loved without, the mother said.
But from a place deep within.
Sacral place where The Mother lives.
Embracing Inner Space.
I knew her and myself.
Where I am love,
Power, beauty, and Grace.
The Black and Silver Realm
I travel the paths in the black and silver realm
Where all things, are brought to the melting pot.
And I, and my despair descend
Witness to their revolt,
Even when the nimbus of the orb is nigh.
That I swim in the depths of my ancestral blood
They boil, as do I.
Along the crucibles edge in the black and silver realm.
Seeking gold. And a way home,
The treasure untold.
My own spirit and soul, my Self.
Insoluble separation will erode,
The same as a season diminishing.
Destined to bow and disintegrate before the surge of destiny unfolding
A shaft of hope and a herald from the future
Calling back to the point where, the solution architect
And the heartitect, on the cusp of a beginning
Wait for instruction and the keys that unlock
Sacred wisdom. Revealed are the ways along the path
To their destination, their hearts desire reflected
In a mirror the twinned flame.
A resonant call from one soul to another
Forged in the furnaces of fate at the beginning of Time
When we were naught but a sound.
And our cosmic heart, was one thing made from the fabric of stars,
Iron magnetises to iron, so.
Louise Ceres was born in 1966 in the North of England and is the author of Gaiadon Lore. A fantasy fiction series, where she writes under the pen name MT CERES.
She has this to say about her poetry.
When I write poetry, which isn’t as often as I would like, it becomes this ritualistic process for me. It’s like opening a vein or applying a leech to a psychological canker that needs to be bled. It’s how I exorcise my ghosts. Therefore, my poems tend to be distinctly female, about romantic love, sex, death, madness, rejection, and alchemy.
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