Category: poems



the crystal beaches

when we were casting spells at night

bathing in the moonlight

summoning the muses

invoking the ancients

a beauty and a beast

in the harbor burried by past

conjuring the love

dreaming of darkness and light

I came to understand

I cleared my mind

but the spell still hangs in the air





The Soul in Eclipse

eclipsed sun of my soul

waiting for new beginning

the wounds are ashes

the scars are dust

arising anew, green-eyed and bewitched

stars still shine

lightening path, I wander

path I want to leave behind

the only way to freedom

The Spell

couldron swells with wicked brew

witches gather, witches murmur

ancient spell of blackest night

when gods ride the misty chariots

the curses, charms, all enchanted

wolves and ravens guide their words

count the bones

count the skulls

throw rosemary, for remembrance

give me thyme and give me saffron

hags change fates this night of black

the gods laugh

the world spins

a spell is forged from within

and the wild dance just begins

A Wolven Tale

the wolf, the snow under his paws

and the twilight in his heart

restlesss and lost, fighting own shadow

raising moon, the blood on its face

the frozen branches, hanging in garlands

the willlows bowing before him

the stagnant droplets, enchanted in time

he never sees the spring

as it runs away, every time one step before him

to catch the summer, to catch the sun

the winter jails his limbs, breathing chill

blacking the eyes, the dying soul

the night covering him in starless embrace

he was frozen for years

until the spring came, touched his face

and became one with him

… howling into the sky, the moon again bloodied

he runs over grass

his tears green and mossy

his heart tangled by vines

his spirit free


Kathe dressed in mist, Kathe dancing near the bonefire

her hair touched by the crimson dew

her eyes black and hollow

long forgotten Kathe

the dweller of the forest, the dancer of the wind

feet buried in the grass

Kathe filled with freedom, she is tossing the beads of laughter

the lover of the forest god

wild soul, untamed


my eyes dried, holes in the vast desert

blinking tears on the corners of perception

waiting for the rain to wash away the sorrow

the wind masks my trail

alone I walk, the cruel sun over my head

until the breeze comes

and the raindrops glisten on my face

slow lover healing my wounds

it won’t be the same anymore

in dream no one count the hours

no one looks back

under the grotto, covered with crimson flowers

my heart beats, the secret place

known only by the two

it won’t be the same anymore

the silent smile, in peaceful pavilion

I sleep, caressed by the moon


morn faded in the mists of the fog

joyful silhouettes spin in the dim light

mockery on their lips, wilderness in their hearts…

… as the fairies circle around the old willow

radiant, luminous

spear of brilliance, fireflies of the olden days

magic, spells, and freedom

the gleam in the mirror of the past

an solas timpeall na gcrann

Buttons and Cotton

the falling walls hide my heart
deep in the ground, under bed of thorned flowers
finding it equals death
as the poison injects into your veins

the walls fell
and buried my body underneath
the lonely bird sings over the brick grave
his button cotton eyes lurk beneath

buttons and cotton
the bird is made of, he
guards my tombstone made of walls


Streams of black tears, bitter-sweet

Heart of darkness tinted red

Where will you go when the hope fades away?

The ruins will possess the world

I’ll be the lover of the day

and husband of the night

Blood will clot on my eyelids

sour liquor made of shadows

Winter leaves, sweeping frosted skirts

But spring died with the deities

Black flowers hurt hands

tarry petals sharp as daggers

Wild Heart

the wild heart, bathed in the inky night

the starless firmament singing a song for you

your silent presence, like a gust of warm wind

I want to know you, goddess of the hunt

staining my heart with bloodred

I wait, through water and desert

Through twilight and morn

under the hunter’s moon

your nature sings a poem

of freedom and fire

see me, as I stand on the top of the mountain

the dew covers my eyelids

yet I see you, like a bright spark of the feral flame