Spiritual Poetry – Plath, My Goddess

Maybe I’ll make Plath my Goddess,

let her voluptuous word-tentacles play up,

to my third eye

scraping it down to

white hot, carte blanche prudence.

Exfoliating fodder with her sacred, sacred breath.

Then, maybe I’ll make you my spirit guide,

Revered one.

So we can stroll through snowflake-fragile green pastures,

Heady with hot coal, eggshell verdant turf.

And I’ll courageously blurt that I


make this poetess Divine.

And you’ll belly laugh your school mistress frankness


You already did,

You already did.

Then maybe I’ll make Tarot my dance card.

Blank paged and anticipating

Soul’s signature to

breach its every page.

Or I’ll make the Cards my diary

and over schedule every day with too long

soul fireside chats.

I could even make Jung my familiar,

a jungle cat of a companion.

My escort through the shadow-waist land

Where my darken Sacral illuminates the

Fluorescent-neon Plexus faceted with clarity.

Published by Erika

I am: Tarot Reader Mom Pagan Wife Writer Reader Cook Astral Surfer Goddess Worshiper Mystic Seer Nature Lover

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