Category Archives: Mythology

Chap Books Are On The Way

I am in the final stages of putting together poetry chap books. Stay tuned for when they go on sale, and where to get them.

Each will have color covers, and contain 20-30 pages of poetry.

 

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“Wild”

~ Esther Mitchell, 2015~

Silent, she sits,
Her body is a drum held quivering,
A beat hangs ready to pound from her mouth,
A booming clap, like thunder off the canyon.
Her words are a weapon,
Forged to draw her own blood,
Not lines on a map or stains on a battlefield,
She offers up her own blood,
Her own flesh,
Says “Hear me, for I am the body you’ve forsaken.”
Every life into this world is bathed in her blood,
Every life out, in her tears,
Oceans filled with her weeping,
Until the world is pulled under,
Gasping against her unwitting vengeance.
Her heart pulses with fire,
Shoots sparklers into the night sky,
Bathes the heavens in white-hot lightning,
Dances the night sky with streamers of light,
Until her frenzied celebration slips into the dawn,
Peels back the curtain to embrace bright heat,
Unwilling to be thwarted by its burn.
This is the birthright trapped within every woman,
Which frightens men to violence,
Trying to tame that which refuses to be anything but wild.

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“Let It Go”

~Esther Mitchell, 2014~

You told me today,
That I just need to calm down,
That it’s not that bad,
That I should just let it go.
I smiled, and nodded, and walked away.
But what I wanted to ask you,
Was if you’d seen the leash I’m holding,
The door I’ve barricaded with my body,
To save you from the demons that push against the other side,
If I let go of this leash,
I unleash something I cannot control,
Its ravenous appetite never satisfied,
Until it pulls the last precious drop of my blood, of life,
From the hollow shell of my soul,
If I step away from the door,
Peel my body from this lock,
Rest my vigilance for even a breath,
I unleash a hell I cannot push back again,
I am Pandora before the box,
Untempted, because I already know the pestilence inside,
There isn’t any hope in my box,
My only hope rests in keeping it firmly closed,
And so I made my body the only key,
My throat sewn shut around the magic words,
That I could keep the demons from escaping.
You tell me I should pray about it,
But there’s no prayer that stays this battle,
No God capable of turning back this horde,
Your God abandoned me when this Hell was created,
My pleas echoed off your god’s deaf ears like bullets off Kevlar,
Until I was deafened to the sound of prayer,
Each word from your lips an artillery round,
Blowing open more places for the demons to come in,
More hollows where the words whispered in the night,
Until they were all I could hear, telling me to take the pills,
To use the knife,
To go back to the beginning, to fill my lungs with the water,
As they were that day.
You tell me to think positive,
That this, too, shall pass.
While you’re drowning me in your mantras,
You know nothing of what I face.
I am neither positively or negatively charged.
I am a lightning bolt,
A pounding pulse of electricity that lights up the night,
Fills the sky, takes it over, burns the ground where I walk,
And I am the night, the humming darkness before a storm,
The momentary tingle on your scalp, your tongue,
Just before my fire splits the sky.
I learned this when my world split in two,
Gained the ability to be invisible,
When it became too difficult for you to see me,
Charged the cloak of my own night,
With enough electricity to light the world,
Because the only way to drive my demons back,
Was to be something they feared more than I feared them.
I am the Gates of Babylon,
The portals through which heroes prostrate to pass,
My voice the guardian of secrets that bring kings to their knees,
My body a sacrament defiled to the roar of waves that sink kingdoms and empires.
Do not dare to tell me who, or what, shall pass through me,
Because you do not know the canals carved into my face,
By the rivers of tears you never saw, never stemmed.
You have not navigated the River Styx within my soul,
The murky water none can cross without my permission,
My tongue the ferryman, hand outstretched.
You haven’t the coin to unlock my secrets,
Because you don’t know what it means,
To cut out your own tongue,
To spare others from the demons who howl,
On the other side of my abyss.
You told me today,
To let it go, to just move on,
Because you have no idea,
The monsters I keep at bay.

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“Fae Kisses”

~Esther Mitchell, 1985~

A sprinkle of crystalline drops,
A gossamer robe hung to dry,
The whispered song of mother to young,
An echo of sweet lullaby;

The rustle of unseen footsteps,
Upon lush, color-strewn rugs,
And the tickle of bubbling laughter,
That wraps ‘round you like a hug;

Each wooded glade knows,
The sweet song of Morning’s mist,
As each pathway glows,
Touched by a Faery’s sweet kiss.

POET’S NOTE:
I wrote this poem what seems like a lifetime ago, now, as I sat in a tiny grove of trees, listening to the spirits of Nature all around me. In that morning light, I found feelings that forever linger, and made a friendship that’s followed me all the years since. I decided to share the thoughts I could only find words to put to paper in a poem, all those years ago.

Angel Child

Brief Acknowledgement and Thanks

This isn’t a poem… But I wanted to take just a moment and thank everyone for your interest in my poetry. Your support and interest is heart warming and very much appreciated!

Thank you!

“Cain’s Legacy”

In honor of Memorial Day, and the men and women who serve and who have given their lives to the cause of freedom and honor, no matter their nationality, I wanted to share this poem.

“Cain’s Legacy”

~Esther Mitchell, 1997~

 

Turned wretched are the brave,

And dead are the unbroken,

For the legacy Cain gave,

Was but a bloody token.

The sky churns with filthy smoke,

And sickened is the Son of Hate,

As, on warfare’s thickness, life chokes,

And the Son of Love, silenced mid-spate.

 Water burns my eyes,

My heart falls, with mortal wounds, in grief,

To see courage and honor shattered by lies,

Upon an iron-wrought reef.

No nature can I find near me,

That is not to be despised,

For what Nature was to be,

Was swallowed as the ships capsized.

 This is the legacy Cain bought,

And one he would never claim,

For the vengeance Cain sought,

Gave birth to war’s bloody stain.

“Daughter”

~Esther Mitchell, 2013~

 

I am the daughter of my mothers,

Stretching backward through all time,

The Maiden, the Mother, the Crone,

Each in turn a piece of who I have become;

 

I am the daughter of my mothers,

The Earth, the Sky, the Sea,

Born of holy Fire,

My spirit, from eternity, set free.

 

I am a child of the Wheel,

A creation of Destiny, of Fate.

 

I am the daughter of my mothers,

The Harlot, the Priestess, the Amazon,

I know where my soul belongs,

My heart, my center, my friend.

 

I am the daughter of my mothers,

And to their teachings I turn,

To be true to myself, to all that I am,

Is the greatest lesson I’ve ever learned.