Three Pieces
Eleanor Graydon
Witch Weather
It is in that moment.
So unspeakable to others, or yourself,
That hides in a gust of wind,
Or in dark clouds that haunt a rumbling sky,
That lurks in the fogbanks,
Of mountains, Forests, and cliffs,
Where suddenly the world shifts,
and you feel different.
A restlessness causes your hands to shake,
and your breath to shudder in your lungs.
Longing for a place that doesn’t exist,
not where you are, nor anywhere you know of,
You can feel the tense electricity,
Of the moment, of your changing perspective,
It calls magic to your skin, your soul.
It sinks inside you,
Makes you feel ancient, powerful and lonely.
As though you have forgotten something important.
That wild instant where you feel alive for once,
And the belief, that some part of you –
Belongs to the everlasting…
Moments of a Larger Universe
There are those aching infinite moments,
When you are caught in the moon’s waning crescents.
Where you feel the secrets that are best left forgotten,
Leaving your mind to flee each scene with abandon.
Of ancient powers and sleeping elder gods,
Where you keep the balance no matter the cost.
With the cold that seeped along the wind,
and ghostly faces that appeared and grinned.
Of the loneliness that is the winter’s earth.
Waiting to thaw and give way to rebirth.
That sends a call from within your soul,
And you realise nothing is within your control.
Where unknown feelings ascend from inside you,
Crawling from the earth from where they once grew.
Like ferns unravelling in the light of a distant dawn,
Until, eventually, they slowly get withdrawn.
A deep solitary love, unknown by any today,
That no single person can ever hope to convey.
The type that makes you gasp in hope and wonder,
Which fills you with a vastness that echoes like thunder.
And when that moment is gone forever more,
It leaves you wanting for what had been granted before.
Soft Apocalypse
Soft apocalypse,
Grow ever slowly,
Flowers and vines,
Spread your influence.
Take root and grow,
Tangle yourself up,
Climb the walls with thorns,
Rise and overrun.
Take back what is yours,
New roots breaking concrete,
With old trees trembling,
Fed by crumbling buildings.
In the ashes of our planet,
As the last buildings fall,
The roots of the earth take hold,
And feast upon the rubble.
Eleanor Graydon is a poet who writes for purgatory, persecution and publication. She is terrified of dinosaurs, the ocean and mascot characters. She is a university student, who is currently reading for Fahmidan Journal and is a freelance editor. Publications: Young Writers ‘Little Laureates’ (2007), Kids4Kids, (2018), Your Local Newsletter, (2019-2020), Wireworm Magazine (2023).