☽ TRASH ☾ PHOTOGRAPHY

JODIE /

24 / SHEFFIELD / UK /

CATS / PUNK / D.I.Y / BAND / GIGS / FLOWERS /

PHOTOGRAPHER BA HONS /

trashphotography@gmail.com

sisters

How do you love a person
Who never got to be,
Or try again to see a face
You never got to see? 
How do you mourn the death of one
Who never got to live,
When there’s nothing to feel good about
And nothing to forgive? 
I love you, little sister.
You’re a person of the wind,
Free to be the memory
Of all that might have been. 
I love you, little sister,
My companion of the night,
Wandering through my lonely hours,
Beautiful and bright. 
What does it mean to die before
You ever can be born,
To live the lovely night of life
And never see the dawn? 
Ah! My little sister,
You lived like anyone!
Life’s a burst of joy and pain,
And then, like yours, it’s done. 
I love you, little sister,
Just as if you’d lived for years.
No more, no less, I think of you,
The angel of my tears.

Lucifer’s masters 

stone henge

stone henge

IN CIRCLE DARK  
On this night of thinning veil ‘neath death’s dark cloak, a shadow falls. As spirits call their eerie cry we meet. Hands wrenched tight in circle cast with cauldron burning bright. By flight of bat and wind so chill we wait, On cold, damp earth by elder tree born of blood and bone, A sudden chill with pounding heart we call. As midnight rises through our veins and sacred herbs we burn, Our darkest fears are manifest; the Shadow spirals in; we cry. Yet on this eve of thinning veil the darkness we embrace. A womblike shroud o’ere us all; we hold our breath we wait….


http://paganpoetry.tripod.com/moonwillow/circledark.htm

IN CIRCLE DARK 
 

On this night of thinning veil ‘neath death’s dark cloak, a shadow falls. 
As spirits call their eerie cry we meet. 
Hands wrenched tight in circle cast with cauldron burning bright. 
By flight of bat and wind so chill we wait, 
On cold, damp earth by elder tree born of blood and bone, 
A sudden chill with pounding heart we call. 
As midnight rises through our veins and sacred herbs we burn, 
Our darkest fears are manifest; the Shadow spirals in; we cry. 
Yet on this eve of thinning veil the darkness we embrace. 
A womblike shroud o’ere us all; we hold our breath we wait….

http://paganpoetry.tripod.com/moonwillow/circledark.htm

fallen kitties

wiccan rede

wiccan rede

pagan ritual 

Dark woods 
Trees so old 
Carry me into your soul 
Secrets linger 
Yet untold 
Tales that never 
Will be told 
If I partake of 
Just one glance 
Will you let me 
Dance your dance ?

from Queen Mab, Percy Bysshe Shelley

How wonderful is Death,
Death, and his brother Sleep!
One, pale as yonder waning moon
With lips of lurid blue;
The other, rosy as the morn
When throned on ocean’s wave
It blushes o’er the world;
Yet both so passing wonderful!

“If I Should Die,” Emily Dickinson
If I should die,And you should live,And time should gurgle on,And morn should beam,And noon should burn,As it has usual done;If birds should build as early,And bees as bustling go,–One might depart at optionFrom enterprise below!‘Tis sweet to know that stocks will standWhen we with daisies lie,That commerce will continue,And trades as briskly fly.It make the parting tranquilAnd keeps the soul serene,That gentlemen so sprightlyConduct the pleasing scene!

I’ve seen it so often before 
But once again 
It leaves me momentarily 
Breathless

How can it be mere reflection 
That glorious silver light 
That utter perfection

death 

death