Morgania Maid Maven

The Lady of Shalott is an 1888 painting by the English Pre-Raphaelitepainter John William Waterhouse.

Morgania Maid Maven
"
The Gull and the Raven flew with Morgania Maid Maven.

As she rode down the shore along the emerald green Sea.

A Goddess of Power Trice Land Air and Sea.

Hard Men's hearts weep at the sight of her hair blowing in the Wind.

And fell dumbstruck to the ground, for to touch her was highest of Sin.

Women walked miles in path horses hoofs hoping to find a hair from sweet Head

For Woven into flax, it was said to bring Magick in Bed,

Each generation claims they saw her though she should be so long Dead.

Its True Cawed the Raven the Gull was there Too.

Sand slips through my fingers like Time in the Glass.

As I remember the Love of a long long loss Lass."


"Noon Rising Sun across the Sea cast.

Death and memories, I am frozen in a moment that pain will not let Pass

For a Bard role's I never meant to be my last Task

But am given the peacocks long quell and tongue ink of the wind.

On Fire staff, I lean heavy as Sea's Roar brings sounds of old battles I not Win.

Yet walked away from, last living covered in  Dark Magick's crimson Sin.

 Morgania Maid Maven I will always see you on the shore riding the Sea's Salt Wind."

TDK

(c) July 19, 2013 George King (Except Images).

Hail wise Druids a Boon I do beg. Just came from sleep's Fairy Hill
With words in the mind forcing me to to write the bitter sweet rhyme.
Can anyone tell me if matches in anyway any tale of the long dead Bards told.
For in works Erin I am not even begin deep.

Druid's DNA

‎In Days of Old, DNA played its well known role.

But the Sperm of Babble shattered all the lines of old.

Now Returning Soul must take to what even that binds.

Ask not why now the Druid's Magick is now oh so weak and unwinds.

 But look for lost Gems of the Druid's Broken Egg for these are Awen's true finds.

TDK

Dream Catcher: Written In Silver Orb Weaver ink.

The Orb Weaver with her silver web cast so high.
Fishes only at night in the winds of the mystic sky.

Seen by few shimmering In the silent Silver Moonlight.

May your own dream catcher be like this Magick Orb.

Stopping any evil dreams that chose to come your way.

 But letting the Starlight keep all your dreams happy and gay.

 The Druid King

 Copyright George King 03-21-2012

 

 

Scrying with the Black Oak

Oh ancient Black Mirror upon my wall.

Of this World you show me nothing at all.

 Yet in your magick face I see the in between.

The hidden World that to most is never seen.

 And to me your visions are always true.

The ways of the future that will come due.

 For scrying is a dark and dangerous art.

Not for those of the New Faith or faint of heart.

 On your surface this world's light does fall.

Only to come out in some dark Hell's hall.

 All I know is that for sure, in your eye is a portal to the mind.

And with your help the spirts of the netherworld I call and bind.

 By Candle Book and Bell the Magick words I do tell.

With Blade and Blood in the circle of salt I have cast my spell.

 Come forth my little pretties from your frozen hell.

Do my bidding and in my service you may dwell

For I am the dark Oak that walkith among man always in the white cloak

Master from the Dark Deep Woods and upon my soul is no King or God's Yoke.

 The Druid King

Copyright 03-07-2012 George King

The SENIOR SENOR  --- Written in Moon Shadow Pale Grey Ink.

The Senior Senor, even late of night wears the broad rimmed Hat

And walks whenever he can, for gas is expensive, even to the richest Cat

Some say he is  Bruja, others laugh  and say, no he is made  of an Oak

But none ever say it to his face,  for they dare not make such a Joke

To him they come when family sick as none have money for the Doctor's Bill

They beg of of him, oh please the Magick  cure, the one that takes no Pill

If true of heart, kind of Mule and  upon  their knees they Fall

He will cast, as he knows the  Magick's mind and how to weave its healing Spell

Many have said to all,  he must this Magick freely teach, or else be damned to Hell

He has learned this Magick from  blood and tears and owes none a drink from its Well

There are very few that really can and even less that tend to give, so judge not, how harsh he Be.

The rich in this life the rules have set , the most important being:   Nothing's  Really Free

The Senor often walks the roads late of night, a shadowed Soul  with ghosts from battles old and lands so far Away

And if you meet him some  Moonless night, please be quick of passage sure to give , for this Magick you, too, may need some Day

The Druid King

Dedicated to all the Solitary Psychic Readers and Healers everywhere, that burn some much of their own Soul energy helping so many others,  who's pale hollow words of thanks quickly blow away like morning mist in the rising Sun.  Remember your Psychic Power is like your special blood so very rare, precious and not a never ending well.

Copyright July 24, 2011 by George King

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