a song of freedom

"sing me a song of freedom" she cried, her voice rang out
across the valley.

the wolf lifted his head just a little.

she climbed a little higher and stood, arms raised in
supplication to the sun goddess.
the wind danced with her long sun kissed hair as
this particular day travelled the well worn path.

in the forest below, a shadow changed. dappled sunlight
waltzed with the damp brown earth. decomposition, the sweet
stench.

thump, thump, wolf paw thudding earthwards, claws in search
of an irritation, an escaping itch.

"write me a song" she pleaded "let me hear the lyrics
of your love, in the music i must feel the rhythm of
your heartbeat."

the high hills listened and were silent.

global warming?

scotland can be a pretty dreary place at times, plenty of
grey skies, plenty of rain.
but, for the last couple of days my small spot has enjoyed
blue, cloudless skies.
there is a welcome warmth in the air, crocus plants
are pushing blue tipped buds through the soil.
folks are out and about, faces lifted to the warm sun.
seasonal magic!

when i first moved to troon i was a little concerned. my wee
apartment is in an 'over sixties' complex. i had a picture of
my self surrounded by a bunch of ancient fuddy duddies.
hah! one of the older owners is a lady of ninety five, she
still drives ... very well i am reliably informed.
when we are blessed with clear skies at this time of the year,
we are cursed with frost and ice coated windscreens.

a few mornings ago i was out in the garden smoking - yeah,
forgot to tell you, i fell off the nicotine wagon! if you
need to hear the excuses ...

1) the stress of moving.
2) crashing my lady rav.
3) breaking up with herself.

enough already, i am just another addict.

so there i was, 9.30 in the morning, freezing my arse off
and wishing i had never surrendered to the cursed weed.
and there is my ninety five year old neighbour, scraping the
ice off her windscreen.
what an inspiration.

mind you, the very thought that in thirty five years time i
might still be having to de-ice windscreens?
maybe that global warming scenario is not as scary as it
sounds.

uhuh ...

it's me again. just could not keep away! a new blog does
not necessarily mean i have to shut down the mind nomadic and
the unfolding enigma.
took me a while to realize that!
logic won in the end ...

until we meet again

friday 12th february - two months exactly since i left my wee village and took up residence in an actual town. quite an eventful two months it has been! wrote off my beloved lady rav, accepted the impossibility of my relationship with herself, finally had my foot fixed.
2010 has possibilities, in march my youngest will visit from south africa. in june i will be spending two weeks with a group of lesbian friends on the island of minorca.

i breathe, spring is in the air, my heart quickens at the signs of new life. the first shoots breaking through the winter empty ground. branches, once desolate, burst with buds, round and plump with new life.our scottish sun rises a little earlier, sets a little later and i feel the warmth of her.

a time of change.
i need a new voice, a new page upon which to write my truth.
on these pages i have grown stale and careful.

dear friends and readers, i will of course continue to follow your blogs!

i will leave the mind nomadic and the unfolding enigma as and where they are. a small history for myself. does anyone remember designated writer? still out there, deserted but inviolate!
from time to time, i will continue to publish some of my poetry on wordspinner

until we meet again.
namaste

expref=next-blog

what is it with this 'next-blog' story? does anyone know?

all of a sudden a week or so back my stats on the mind
nomadic started to rise.
i did not take much notice, just thought ... "thats nice".
until the day i had 200, yep 200 visitors to my little
blog in one day. at which stage i thought ... "that's weird!"

so, i started checking out the stats on my other blogs,
no new action, only my few faithful followers. which
made me think ... "that is effin' strange!"

i returned to the stats page for the mind nomadic
and noticed that although an absolute orgy of people
from all over the world were passing through ...
only a few were actually stopping long enough to read.

had my blog entered a twilight zone of blog grazers, one
bite and they are out of there?
i checked a little more carefully and found that these alien
grazers all came referred via "next-blog".
hmmmm ... i googled 'next blog'. it would appear to refer
only to the next blog button at the top of the blog page.
i was riveted, i had never pushed that damn button! so, i did.
indeed one seems to move from one unrelated and unknown blog
to another.
which might explain how my blog is suddenly so well visited.
question - why did my figures leap within such a small space of
time and why are these 'next-blog' folk not arriving on my
other two blogs?

is there anybody out there with an explanation?

Faoilleach, the Wolf-month

yesterday, one of my favourite bloggers - camlin, of camlin's
crooked line threw down the gauntlet.
a poetry challenge!
camlin was discussing Imbolc and Brighid, the goddess fire and
forge, of healing and poetry. now, i have no pagan connection
and curiosity sent me in search of information. I discovered
that this time of the year was known as Faoilleach, the wolf
month. naturally this knowledge intrigued my wolfish heart!

unfortunately the wolf in scotland long ago became extinct. there
is now an effort being made to reintroduce them in certain parts
of the highlands. unfortunately there will be fences, they will
not be entirely free. however, for those of us who hold the wolf
close to our hearts...
we will, once more, have the opportunity to hear their voice.
to know they prowl the wilderness which was once theirs.

i dedicate this song to my dear friend xan, the hawk. she who knows and shares a wild heart.





Faoilleach, the Wolf-month


once,when they were few
scratching at the blessed soil
for sustenance
crouching round fire
in draughty shelters
as the dark time
enshrouded the land
i was free to roam

free to run and hunt
following the deer trails
silent in the winter white
the mountain and the glen
were my own kingdom
no need to fear
the eye and arm of humanity
held prisoner by the season

their numbers increased
they staked claim to more
of the sacred earth
unprepared to share
they drove us ever further
until at last
we ceased to howl and hunt
man ruled

yet still, when the wind bites
when the snow flurries and drifts
when man seeks shelter
from the season's seeping chill
my spirit roams the hills and glens
for those who have the ears to hear
my voice once more reverberates
across the lost wilderness


Copyright © 2010 by Eryll Oellermann