In Darkness, Let Your Fire Be Light!

Can you smell it…

feel it…

hear it…

the scent of autumn dancing in your bones… the chant of October, whispering… (October always whispers), “I’m adept at the powerful-but-forgotten art of lifting spirits”? Can you sense the fiercest bit of you, the one that makes you You, singing (shouting and shouting), “When things go bad, make them good… bite into life, let fate feel the magic that is you”?

I do, sense it… and I bite into life—teeth sharp, soul willing…

…and I write. Sometimes, I do it with others. Let me show you:

If you could read the thoughts of your wickedest Dream, what would your Dream write about you? Rommy and I pondered the question (with all the seriousness it deserved) and shared our findings at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. Go ahead, take a look-see.

I’m a journal and notepad hoarder. And like all stationery-loving dragons, I often delight in my stash. Yesterday, as I adoringly went through my paper-hoard (I want to handwrite my entries to Hedgewitch’s Friday 55), I ran into this giggler of a note (quite mad, indeed):

About Witches in Fiction 2017…
…yes, my Wicked Luvs, there will be a Witches in Fiction this year. Give me a week or more (I need to tweak a detail or three), then I will have an announcement post for you.

To those who asked about October publication, the answer is no. Apologies… But don’t be too upset with me, I will publish something hot and deep *cough* to warm our winter.

That’s it for now, my Luvs. Why don’t you delight me with some bright bits of you? Any yummy plans for the fall? Have you been keeping safe? Are you crafting?

Be fiercely you.

Be wild (if you want).

Do it with others (if you can).

And remember… in darkness, let your fire be light!

Storm the Dark with Me

“It’s time to write about the dead and undead,” Björn tells us. Not “the cuteness of trick or treat, but the real fear that hides beneath your bed. Bring out the beasts at night and make it hard for me to sleep.” Often, fear is that which keeps us awake… because we want it so damn much.

“Storm the Dark with Me”

I never bite a throat
that invites not my ripping
teeth. I’ve been waiting,

but hope is leaving me…

She will never want
her warmth on my tongue,
my eyes in her heart.

Then I see my desires
curve the red of her lips
for me, asking for touch
that quivers my bones.

“Storm the dark
with me,” she says, fingers tight
around my need.

I follow her, teeth ready
to feel her, throat exposed
to receive anything…

she is willing to give.
.

a wee note…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Creatures of the Night

storm-the-darkpoem bit created from Edgar Allan Poe and Sigmund Freud magnetic poetry kits
charm clip crafted by Eliora