Tag Archive | pagan

A Prayer for Survival of Mercury Retrograde

Goddess, give me the strength and energy to survive

This Mercury Retrograde

Give me the patience of water wearing at a rock

The quick relentless energy of the red squirrel

The stick- to-it-veness of a lichen

The intelligence of the blue whale

The ability to rise from the mud of a lotus

The impassiveness when dealing with rude, stupid people of a redwood

The strength of an oak tree

The force when necessary of an octopus

And the ability to adapt of a chameleon.

Give me peace

Give me grace

Give me calmness in the face of exaggerated crisis mode

On the part of others

Let me be grounded

Let me be flexible

Let me have the ability to let things pass around me

And on to somewhere else

Goddess help me.

Poetry Month – Who is the Goddess?

The Goddess is dark and beautiful with knowing eyes.

The Goddess is old and walks with a cane.

The Goddess is the colour of rich cream and is surrounded by art.

The Goddess is the colour of brick dust and watches over the flocks surrounded by no one.

The Goddess is pink, flushed from a race.

The Goddess is pale and sits alone in the dark.

The Goddess is small and wizened with dark eyes.

The Goddess is round and strong with muscular arms from hard work.

The Goddess is thin and ill and labours to breathe for it is work.

The Goddess stands with arms out blessing her gardens and fields.

The Goddess is dying in her bed surrounded by ones who love her.

The Goddess dies alone on a dirty street ignored with the trash.

The Goddess cries at injustice and pain and abuse.

The Goddess walks strongly on mountain path leading children of all shapes sizes and colours.

The Goddess follows behind and hopes she makes a difference.

The Goddess is in everyone of us.

The Goddess looks like us.

The Goddess is in the mirror.

Listen to her.

©2014 Kat Robb

Poetry Month – Rudyard Kipling

A Tree Song”

OF all the trees that grow so fair,

Old England to adorn,

Greater are none beneath the Sun,

Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs,

(All of a Midsummer morn!)

Surely we sing no little thing,

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day,

Or ever AEneas began.

Ash of the Loam was a lady at home,

When Brut was an outlaw man.

Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town

(From which was London born);

Witness hereby the ancientry

Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard-mould,

He breedeth a mighty bow.

Alder for shoes do wise men choose,

And beech for cups also.

But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,

And your shoes are clean outworn,

Back ye must speed for all that ye need,

To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth

Till every gust be laid,

To drop a limb on the head of him

That anyway trusts her shade:

But whether a lad be sober or sad,

Or mellow with ale from the horn,

He will take no wrong when he lieth along

‘Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,

Or he would call it a sin;

But – we have been out in the woods all night,

A-conjuring Summer in!

And we bring you news by word of mouth-

Good news for cattle and corn-

Now is the Sun come up from the South,

With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

(All of a Midsummer morn):

England shall bide ti11 Judgment Tide,

By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

A spring morning prayer

Lady, I see the beauties of this spring day

And ask that these blessings surround me this dat

The shining glow of our white roses

The dawn song of the phoebe

the whirr of the mourning dove’s wings

The pink of the rose echoing the colours of dawn

The furious chatter of the bushtits in the trees

The flick of the kitty’s tail as she flees

The early green shine of the new plants in the fields

The sleepy peep of baby birds

The chilly caress of the morning breeze

May they be with me through this day

And may they be there in the twilight hours

And in the dark of night.

Kat Robb 2016

 

Prayer for spring blessings

I see the signs of the approach of spring

And I ask its protection through the day

From red sky of this morning

Through the warm day and the coming of soft night

Until the morning’s return

I ask protection from

The song of the mockingbird

The laugh of the raven

The peeping of the returned bushtits

From the bridal veiling of the flowering pear trees

And the snowy white drifting of falling petals

From the sight of the new budding on the sycamores

And the sweet scent of the blooming osmanthus

From the soft pink lushness of our camellia

And the fractal petaled whiteness of the white camellia

I ask this protection from morn to night

Through dawn twilight to the night’s beginning

And to the next morning.

The very first BunniHoTep story

This was the very first BunniHoTep story I ever wrote and it’s only been published on anything once, on my very first blog post on March 24, 2005, so as of yesterday I’ve been blogging for 11 years. I started blogging because my brother had brain cancer and was blogging about it on Livejournal and wanted me to be able to follow his journey and he knew I loved to write. What he gave me was a gift beyond measure. After he died in July of that year it gifted me with a group of lovely gay men who had been his friends and shared my grieving. He was only a year and a half younger than me and it was like losing half of myself, he had been my shadow for so long. We shared a room until I was 9, we shared so much and both turned out to be gay. I still love a lot of those wonderful men and am glad they are in my life. Blogging gave me a way to grieve and not burden every one around me. It gave me a wider spiritual community. It broadened my life in so many ways.

So here is the very first BunniHoTep story that I wrote because I dreamed it. She was born at a priestess meeting of TOILA, it was our first meeting for priestess’ and that afternoon Inannamoon and I were going to Ellen Cannon Reed’s memorial so we had her Egyptian book out and there was a hieroglyph of a bunny but no real explanation of the meaning that I now know is the word “to be” but then no one remembered what it was but someone smarted off that it was “BunniHoTep!” and we laughed and went on to something else but that night I started to dream stories about a small brown Egyptian Goddess named BunniHoTep, she was the Goddess of lost objects and the small joys in life. So here she is:

The Tale of the Tail
Once upon a time in a time very long ago there was a very small Egyptian rabbit
goddess. Her name was BunniHoTep. She was a beautiful rabbit with soft,
soft fur and a long bushy tail. She was very vain about this tail. It was a
pretty color and swooshed behind her. It did have a slight problem because
when she hopped it landed in the dirt.

Every day she would groom her tail and if she asked nicely Bast would help
her brush it out so it shined and shined.

BunniHoTep loved to go down to the banks of the Nile and watch the fish
swim by. She could watch for hours and hours. One day while she was
watching the fish a crocodile snuck up behind her and opened his very big
mouth with its very big teeth. BunniHoTep turned around and saw the very,
big, nasty crocodile and gave a big leap away and hopped and hopped for her
life. She heard the jaws go snap as she sped away. She hopped all the way
to Isis and Hathor’s House. (They were sharing a summer Temple that year.)
As she was nearly there realized she was hurting and slowed down and looked
behind her. Her beautiful tail was gone.

BunniHoTep cried and cried, “Oh. it hurts.” she said. Nursing her bunny
hiney. “My lovely, lovely tail is gone.” She cried softly to herself. But
she didn’t cry softly enough and kind Isis and Hathor heard her.

Isis and Hathor picked her up and cradled her and soothed her hurt bunny
behind.

BunniHoTep sobbed to Isis. “What will I do without my tail? It was so soft
and lovely and cushioned me when I landed.”

Hathor thought carefully and knew she had just the thing and went quickly
into the house and came back. She handed Isis an object and said to Isis.
“See if this works.”

Isis it took and laughed and said this will be perfect and she put the soft
thing right where BunniHoTep’s tail used to be. BunnieHoTep looked down
and her behind. There where her lovely long tail had been was one of
Hathor’s powder puffs. It was lovely and soft and white and was much more
practical than a long tale.

And that is why bunnies have fluffy powder puff tales.

Prayer for a spring morning

Prayer for an early spring morning

I ask the blessing and protections of the day for all those I love

Blessings and protection from first morning light

Through the passage of the day to twilight

And all through the night until dawn’s first light

Blessings of the first shy daffodil

Exuberance of the flowering redbud tree

Cheer of the yellow daisied euryops

Freshness of the blooming rosemary

Farewell from the last of the flowering pear blossoms

Sweetness of the budding lemon tree

Greeting from the mockingbird’s calls from the tree

Healing from the chill morning breezes

Clarity of the shining, piercing blue of the morning sky

Be with me this day as I go my way

Bless my tongue

Bless my heart

Bless my feet

Through our this day until I arrive home at night.

Kat Robb 2015