The Red Witch of FallA Poem by Richard GuimondThe initiation of a new soul, the fertilisation of a new order Into Mother Earth Wombs first of ''Improbable Seasons''The Red Witch of Fall
Sacrificial offering blood stains the tangerine Harvest Moon Invisible but tangible ghostly winds combs the empty trees On ignored insecure path, the steps of a lonely traveller Like an empty stem cell, virginal, blank, unnamed soul Inexperienced ephebe moving toward an unknown destiny Deep in the woods, a secret gate, a cleft in Earth Mother's body Penetrate the seminal soul toward the sacred Goddess womb He moves thru narrow a humid tunnel, a slippery chthonian path In deep darkness at first, then toward glittering, flickering light Abruptly the tunnel ends on a surprising sight of hadesian nature Gaia's womb, cave of titanesque proportions glistening with fire Thru it the Motherly Blood runs in an incandescent lava flow Its pulsating fiery light echoes on the toothed cavern roof From his high viewpoint, he sees his final dreaded destination On the shores, of the fire blood lake, ruins of an immemorial manor Crumbling dark castle, housing of forgotten memories of eons past Cycle Taking the narrow trail, the white lad, walks his way to the plutonian ovary Over moat of melted stones of scarlet gleam a draw bridge of dead oaks Lowered down by darkened bronze chains from Hephaestus forges The ruins open its mouth like a beast ready to taste its foolish prey Rusted iron fangs greet the visitor as the last spikes studded door is
raised Slowly he walks in under the colossal arch made of loosened stones As any planned on medieval architecture, he accedes in the central court There in the middle of the space, on a raised pedestal, a carve stone
throne Shaped as a sleeping cat, the worn out seat host a majestic sat figure A lone female, the host of the place that rise to welcome the voyager A long floating gown of black as the underground hellish darkness Wrap the small figure pale body glowing with the sheen of death In a round full moon face, eyes of electric blue cold as ice A face framed by medusean live dead locks of celtic fiery red Flaming tentacular locks undulating in enchanted silent winds
Standing before him, She, the dreaded Red Witch of Fall, From the sapphire gaze, he can't but been hypnotized He feels the attraction, the vampiric needs of this singular hostess Which with frozen silence, summoned the virgin soul by her sides Promises of lust, her ruby lips propose to the innocent one Promises of forbidden knowledge offer to the ignorant one No one knows which of the two got bigger thirst to quench Pulpous lips of red over ivory neck of pulsating artery The vampires tenderly kiss to the young flesh before ripping it apart As the daze blind the unfortunate boy trapped in carnal awe As the fangs pierce the flesh the improbable happens to both surprised No magic other then Nature one, physical law, you can't suck emptiness But by the vacuum yourself fall attracted into by the void In this battle for life between two thirsty egos Emptiness wins Nothing to lose, all to gain to the initiate granted is the sacred λόγος As all the feminine magic secrets to the young males are revealed The new Prometheus stealing the Olympian Flames Boy no more a man gathers his new found strength As his adolescent body transforms, gaining bearded face His innocence like a freed bird from his cage forever flew away Golden mane grows to the new lion; muscles of steel to the new warrior Magical warlock, now accessing the arcane of occult knowledge Apollo adding the strings of Poetry to his bow, now a lyre From a naive virgin raised the virility of an experimented lover As December lay over the weakening body of surrendered November Mane of gold fade into silver and white as all around Hades freezes Layers of compact crystals become fallen leaves imprisoning chains As Winter's body forever draws Autumn's corpse into oblivion The embrace tighten the Two melted in One, immobile solid ovoid s entity © 2015 Richard Guimond |
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Added on May 20, 2015 Last Updated on May 22, 2015 AuthorRichard GuimondBeloeil,, Québec, CanadaAboutBeen writing 1967 photographer since 1969 been a small time journalist , a camera salesmans graduated in Classical Studies , archeology and religion history unfinished a master in Ethnolinguistic on M.. more..Writing
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