Fantasy Tales By Sharonlee Goodhand – SIRIDEÁN SÚILEABHÁN – Dark Eyed Searcher

For serious poetic fantasy lovers…

Feed Your Soul & Free Your Spirit

SIRIDEÁN SÚILEABHÁN – Dark Eyed Searcher

By Sharonlee Goodhand

*

Legend has it that she with the crystal ball

will come with all the answers…

she, sorceress of southern climes

the Dark Eyed Searcher

and so the seers  plot by season & stars

the time of her arrival…

the people wait and tend their roles

and whisper prayers… soon… please come soon

Sirideán Súileabhán sorceress of our salvation…

 It is said, that Sirideán reads signs like no other

that her travels in realms unreachable have harvested much wisdom…

Sirideán is the sorceress all sibyls go to for guidance

the sultry Dark Eyed Searcher that all wizards & magi

secretly lust after on moonlit nights …

the one Earthly woman all gods yearn to own…

But it is also said the dark-eyed Sirideán

walks heaven and earth & cosmos alone… a solitary candle in the darkest of nights;

her obsidian eyes…

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The 3 A.M. Epiphany: Uncommon Thoughts

The 3 A.M. Epiphany: Uncommon Thoughts

entombed

Words moved through her

imaginings reaching another climax

secrets whispering in her silences…

 

… life moments

cocooning mysterious vibrations

weaving throbbing passing through the story’s flow

story-of-life

how much is real and how much

is

trembling expectations and dreams of

personal nirvana

spiritual enlightenment –

– or simply imaginings…

 

Mists from ages hold silent pauses … listen

to whispers reaching

in and in and in,

stirring deep places

long sleeping … where dwelt 

familiar words unspoken;

*

Art & Poetry – SharonleeGoodhand©29 August 2016

  

Wingless

Wingless

 

 

Particles cling

peripheral vison

            see’s unseen shadows

I

saw new horizons

    over the

       machinery of cities

       lost connections to

the moors…

         where the bracken fern, an

        unwitting witness 

     of supernatural darkness

 flying on Earth with a whisper of night,

      and songs of

      cities contemplating       

the burning fire…

– smog hisses thick

pervasive

on

Earth

laden with grit

stops the flight of wings,

I

saw –

       a

raven

contemplating the machinery of

            civilisation…

 wingless, I saw myself

    standing in a

    dimly lit vacuum 

unable to reach the essence

Of Time…

 

glossy black

feathered

wings clipped by

            social structure

I saw myself standing

in chilling limbo

  –  the Doors to silence

beyond my reach …

 

   I saw new horizons

    over the

       machinery of cities

       lost connections to

the moors…

forever hovering

on the threshold of flight

nothing more than a caged bird.

*

SharonleeGoodhand