Posts Tagged ‘Metaphysical’


She was amazed still

After so many years had passed

Seeing the Sacred Standing Stones

Knowing the beauty would forever last

As it had through long years past


Walking softly through the pillars high

Beneath the lintel, blocking the sky

Into the midst of magic felt

Swirling around her, gooseflesh felt


So different arriving in this way

Her human form, so powerful yet frail

Always a surprise which form to choose

Wolf and Owl, her favourites of all

Powerful and wise

Fast and Silent

With legs or wings

Deadly if needed

Running or soaring over the far hills

To reach this magical gateway

The Portal Stone

Home, Not in one day


Floating across the warmed ground

With snow lying thick all around

She approached the Sacred Portal

Glyphs glowing as she glided near

Sweet musical humming in her ear

She smiled, breathing deeply, waiting now

As she felt him swiftly arrive on silent wings

Now striding forth through the Sacred Ring


Together again and Homeward Bound

Two lovers stepped forth

Glimmering brightly in the light

Then, disappeared from earthly sight

Without a sound.


Blessing, Susan ♥

© Susan Jamieson, 2014

Image courtesy: Barbara’s HD Wallpaper’s

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#Guiding Light

image from cghub.com –

“Whatever you are physically…male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy–all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside.”
Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel

Walking down the hall

In the middle of the night

Looking closely at the window

Its crenelated features casting a gloom

Deep into the house

Wondering why it was so dark, eating up the light

Suddenly I felt something else was there

Looking closely into the shadows

I almost called out

Cold suddenly flooding from the recess

Froze the words in my mouth

In a moment my footsteps stopped

I was frozen in place

Staring silently towards the shadows

Deepening around the tapestry


What was there my mind sluggishly pondered

To cause such a numbing feeling

I realised to my dismay

That I could no longer move

Like the iciness pervading my mind

Its effects permeated my body

Whatever lingered there

It had a devastating effect on my will

Despite feeling chilled in body and mind

My heart beat wildly in my chest

Silently I called on my Guides

To guard my spirit

To save my body

I waited frozen in place

Hearing a blood freezing slurping

Sounding like a giant slug

Sucking and pulling itself from the depths

The cold roiling from the recess deepened

My heart beat faster in my chest

I wondered if my time had come


Then out of the corner of my eye

I saw a brilliant light

Glowing softly and drawing closer

Warmth began to spread through me

Like new life as this light drew ever closer

To the sound of an angry hissing

Coming from the dark corner

I felt the blood begin to pump through my body

And my mind began to clear once more

Enveloped by this comforting light

I felt my fear evaporate

Cocooned in the spiritual glow

Of the light shining along the hallway

Banishing all shadowy corners

I heard a furious sound

Half slither, half screech and all fury

Dwindling into the recess

Hidden by the tapestry


Those fearful tales I’d heard

Of people vanishing in the night

Were no longer far-fetched tales

Told to scare the unwary at night

But to keep everyone safe in their beds

Away from the slithering death

Which waited with bayed breath

At least so I told myself

As I hurried back to my warm bed

Surrounded by my Guiding light

Keeping me safe from harm all night

“There’s a sorrow and pain in everyone’s life, but every now and then there’s a ray of light that melts the loneliness in your heart and brings comfort like hot soup and a soft bed.”
Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

Blessings  Susan  ♥

© Susan Jamieson 2014

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image from litaburke.com

“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.”
Anais Nin

From time immemorial the weavers of dreams; the writers, the poets, the storytellers of old have judged what they have done. Most have felt or asked themselves if their work or art is lacking. They have striven for more, a perfection which exists only within their own hearts and minds, a reflection of their own soul.

I cannot claim to belong to the august company of the likes of Robert Burns, Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare, Wordsworth or Banjo Paterson and yet the questions remain the same. Is what I offer you  good enough?  Have I managed to convey my thoughts, ideas, feelings to you. Have I brought to life the things which dwell inside my heart and mind so that you can see through my eyes?

Lofty ideals they may be, but at their heart is the desire to connect. To be able to connect with you, so that you will hopefully want to come back to read more, perhaps in time, even become a friend.

I cannot say I am a “simple man”, as   Oscar Wilde  said, “I’m a man of simple tastes. I’m always satisfied with the best.”   In my case, I cannot say I am a “simple woman”,  since that would be misleading. Yet I want what most of us want; to be connected in a meaningful way to others. In this case, the people who write and read what I have written.

I am psychic, something  I have avoided for a long time since it caused a few problems in the past. I see and hear things others do not and most strongly I feel things, often very deeply. I am truly an empath. In fact being so strongly empathic in one of my past careers made things almost tortuous at times. As a police officer who can connect with the people they are interacting with, feeling their pain, hurt, fear, all the emotions of those they are communicating with in distressing circumstances is not necessarily an easy burden.  It definitely made things more interesting and much more complicated.

So, as I write, there are elements of things I’ve seen, heard or felt at one time or another. It’s a slow process to release some of these emotions since some are laced with great pain as the event is relived.  Portions only may come to light at any one time as part of an other story.  I’m drawn to the moon as a magnet is drawn to a lodestone, a past life connection coming through from medieval days perhaps.

image from  www.crystalinks.com

Then suddenly I find myself writing poetry, something I haven’t done since school. It’s possible it’s done inexpertly yet the words and feelings come from a place I cannot find in more rational moments.

So,  in answer to “Where is my Inspiration Coming From”  I offer you a compilation of who I am. I am a sceptic and cynic at times, a muse and deeply spiritual person all the time, someone who is an open book yet also complex. In short, I am  a person like you who wants to put her thoughts and feelings “out there.”

At present I am the dreamer, asleep under the magical Hawthorn tree, awaiting the moment when I can take flight as a powerful owl soaring through the skies, silent and watchful. I will wait for Merlin of old to return and teach me his lore, and hope he may stay with me much longer this time.

Do you think you might stay with me a while as I meander through my travels? Through the everyday and the mystical, the spiritual and the mundane, until you see that in poetry or prose, magic and spirit dwell within the soul of each of us.  Perhaps you can see Merlin as we wander along our country byways.

Not my own work but a poem loved by my Grandfather and given to me as a child.
The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have
Is yours.
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause.
For the peace of my years
In the long green grass
Will be yours and yours and yours    written by Leo Marks and used as a poem code in the Second World War.
Bright Blessings and calm journeys always.  Susan x

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