Controversially held nostalgic views on my impression of her nether regions.

Deviant thoughts must be in season.

Her healthy believe in Celtic tradition, left me with more questions than I could ever envision.

A shift of the seasons, and the dance begins. Preparing to hide from the winter winds.

The root cellar is packed and ready to feed, unless the invaders come take what we need.

All summer long the big defences are set, Spring traps over here, or there a falling net.

We made it through winter without a scratch, spring rolled around and the eggs they hatch.

Festivals start for the spring planting season, these traditions be kept, remember the reason.

Nostalgia and the pull from a Vulva.

A hunt that’s older than time.

It lacks all rhythm and rhyme.

It drives some men to utter madness,

and has left many lost in sadness,

But if found can be truly sublime.

A whole life can be spent hunting,

for some random flings or humping,

or, lost and consumed by your fears.

Alone in a lake of tears.

While staring at some thighs,

You missed the piercing eyes,

That would have warmed your heart,

and invited you to start,

a journey with two souls entwined.

A Volva’s Vulva.

A magical song rang through the ages,

Sung by witches, Remembered by sages.

Turned into scrolls, covered books pages.

Vibrating down through the minds of men.

Delivered with swords, or poems and pens.

A story with no beginnings, middles, or ends,

But has built castles and kingdoms,

and caused betrayal by friends.

A sacred cave, where life is made.

A symbolic ring given, vows are made.

Protection, and loyalty, noble deeds.

Houses built to fit their needs.

Cycles come, and the days go by.

Two days of waiting, the third is nigh.

Meandered through her mountains,

and learned to fly,

over the crater,

to the valley below,

To that cave of life, one that every man knows.

Thank you for reading.

Poetry has been held as the medium of story telling, for the many tribes of man, through all of known time. To keep it alive, and create it anew, is the biggest contribution we can make to the arts, and to our descendants.

Immortalized words.