Dedications | JoolsArt

Jools Art

Artist

Jools Art

Artist

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Jools Art

Artist

Poetry

The Shadow and The Sword of Truth

The Shadow and the Sword of truth

To be the guilty party,

Bringing darkness into light.

To rage in one’s anxiety,

To make wrong, that which is right.

To hold something so sacred

And almost crush it in one’s hands.

To suffocate its goodness,

And fail to understand.

To covert love with fear

And lose the trust to let it fly away.

Lost in a fog of stress

And striking out every which way.

To almost break the bond,

That took so long to create.

Then spend eternity in forever,

Making amends for this mistake.
Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
Silence and the Shadow

Silence and the Shadow

If I sit in silence

Sit in silence in this room.

I must sit and stare into the darkness and the gloom.

The darkness and the gloom that is the centre of my self.

I must sit here and then face me by myself.

You are not here to help me,

As I blindly battle through.

My memories casting shadows across the floor I gaze onto.

My fears that rise like smoke and choke me as I breathe

And sting my eyes as I hopelessly try to see.

Worry, guilt and anger now gouge cracks into the floor.

Pain fills them up and covers my ceaseless endless inner war.

I try to shine a light of forgiveness into this dark place,

But my shadow blows out the candle flame with hate.

If this was you instead of me,

Sitting silently in this chair.

Would it help if I was here and sat just over there?

Would I fathom in you, what you couldn’t fathom in yourself?

Do you think that I could be of any help?

If, of course you might just happen to say yes. Then I would ask you to help me.

Although it may portray a slight pathetic dependency.

If I could not just sit here by myself and work this out.

It would be easier for me to just cast this inner shadow out.

To flush it down the toilet and forget that it was ever there.

To fling it from a cliff top, wildly without a care.

To hurl it in front of a moving train and pray for its quick death.

Rather than try and love this thing as the dark side of myself.

And so I sit in silence.

Sit in silence in this room

Wishing you were here to share your darkness and your gloom.

Because a problem shared they say, is a problem halved.

So we may break apart this silence and just laugh.
Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
If We Sit and Pray

If we sit and Pray

If we sit and pray today

There may be nothing we could say,

There may be nothing I can do

But sit down here and pray with you.

I cannot change the hurt you feel

Or make reality any less real.

I can't affect what people say,

Or chase those memories away.

The only thing that I can do,

Is sit down here and pray with you.

This place is ours up in the sky,

Where our spirits are free to fly,

Where all our worries fall away,

This is where we come to pray.

The Goddess hears each word we speak,

You feel her hand brush across your cheek,

She holds you closely to her breast,

And gives your heart sometime to rest.

She gives your mind some time to sleep.

She helps you heal,

She lets you weep.

She knows that you will make it through.

But until the day you do,

I will sit and pray with you.
Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
The Light and The Shadow

The Light and The Shadow

I know I can't kill it,

'Cos it won't die.

I know I can’t kill it,

As I have tried.

I have tried almost every day,

Since I’ve been alive.

But it just simply won’t go away.

How can I love this loathsome thing?

With its foul mouth,

With its jealous grin.

With its bulging bulbous eyes

And its greasy hair.

Its yellow nails, like claws,

I just simply cannot bear.

I used to contain it inside a wooden box,

That I wrapped in chains,

And I surrounded in locks.

I gave up all the things that used to draw it out,

As it could then rip through the chains

And would dance about.

It would run wild riot, thrilled to be free

And make an appalling person of me.

So alcohol just had to go

And red meat too,

That gave it fuel to grow.

So I made it weak and I made it small

And back inside its box it crawled.

So I chained it up and I locked it in,

And I kept away from others too akin,

To its evil ways, that I used to know,

And I stayed by myself

And it lay low.

I would let it out when I exercised,

And wear it out with long cycle rides.

Until it was too tired to think.

But it was happy without a drink,

And it was happy without eating meat,

So back inside its box it would shrink,

And I’d lock it in and breathe a sigh.

But locked inside its box it would cry.

As it was lonely and I was too,

And neither of us knew what we could do.

As what I’d create,

It would smash in two.

But if it gets ill,

It makes me sick

And if I learn skills,

It doesn’t miss a trick.

And when I get tired,

It wakes up.

And when I feel weak,

It’s strong enough,

To break the chains and bounce right out,

And go run riot and dance about.

But it’s not as bad as it used to be.

It’s much happier now, since I gave it a key.

To all the locks of all the chains,

So it lets itself out and back in again.

It can’t be free for long you see,

Because it can never be free from inside me.

When it looks behind, it sees my light.

My light is never out of its sight.

My light is never far away.

So even if it’s dark today.

If it’s running riot and dancing about,

It’ll have to be quiet when my light shines its shadow out,

And it looks all sheepish and waves its key,

Then retreats into its box for a little sleep.

Until I call it and it's all right,

For us to run riot and dance all night!!!!!

Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
Is it Ever Too Late?

Is it ever too late?

If ears are willing to listen,

And hearts are willing to open

Then it is never too late.

If spirits stay close in anticipation

And souls wait to hear you cry out,

Then it is never too late.

If death is not a boundary,

But a bridge across what has always been the divide,

Then is it ever too late?

And if age breaks down the walls of pain and pride,

Then it is never too late.

The flower of understanding

Blooms when it needs to bloom.

Sometimes when we are young and naive

And sometimes, not so soon.

Those we love may be with us

But often they have gone.

But forgiveness waits like a child of time

And he cares not for how long.

One year, one decade, one lifetime, maybe two or three.

It matters not how long it takes

It matters though,

That it is never too late for thee.

Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
The Path To Transformation

The Path to Transformation

(Illumination of a Dream Aug 2013)

When doubt engulfs you.

When fear surrounds you.

When sadness drowns you.

Remember me.

When nothing excites you.

When even anger will not ignite you.

When danger cannot provoke you.

And death has no power over you.

Remember me.

If bathing in my light cannot soothe you.

If my radiance will not heal you.

If my heat fails to comfort you.

And if your desire to seek me out has left you.

Then in you I am forsaken.

I will rise only if you call me.

Only when you scream out my name

From the depths of your darkness a million times.

And you will see me, for a second.

And feel me, like a spark in your soul.

Until you scream again.

Until your lungs are bursting with the effort.

Until you have exhausted every ounce of energy you have,

Running, searching, reaching out to find me.

Only then, will I believe you

Only then, will I trust, that you will feed my flame.

That in you my light will shine,

In all its true brilliance.

In its highest and most Divine.

Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
Let Magic Be

Let Magic Be

In this world at dead of night,

Let Magic be stars shining bright.

In this world cold and alone,

Let Magic be raindrops, dancing on stones.

In this world of worry and fear,

Let Magic be joyous singing we hear.

In this world of work and Tax,

Let Magic be play and time to relax.

In this world where power is all,

Let Magic be art that frees the soul.

In this world, where people are broken,

Let Magic be Love, the healing token.

In this world where life is strange,

Let Magic be releasing and liberating change.

In this world where people can be cruel.

Let Magic be the mirror to reverse this rule.

In this world, in the stillness and the quiet.

Let Magic be the peace that stops the wars and riots.

In this world where nature is exploited,

Let Magic be Gaia's strength and voice, that is not unrequited.

In this world where we don't take responsibility,

Let Magic be the guilt and shame that opens our eyes to see.

In this world where we don't learn from our own history,

Let Magic be the worm that turns all heads to face this reality.
Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
The World is Full of Witches

The World is Full of Witches

The world is scattered with Witches.

As the sky is sprinkled with stars.

Life is full to the brim with Magick

As it is with emotional scars.

When we gaze up into the sky at night,

We can lose ourselves to the dark.

Or delight in awe at each wondrous light,

Each distant elusive spark.

Each moment is filled with Magick,

If we choose to see it this way.

Even when darkness and sorrow surround us,

And our thoughts can find no escape.

For within the darkness is a lesson.

Given to us to learn.

And through struggle and pain and sorrow.

Our personal inner wheel turns.

It is the path to transformation, so arduous and so long.

But it is the only path that can make us, ever wise and ever strong.

One day the world will be alight with Witches.

As the sky is enlightened by the Sun.

One day the struggle and the pain will be over.

And all life will be balanced as one.
Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
Onward Wiccan Warriors

Onward Wiccan Warriors

(Written to the tempo of the hymn Onward Christian Soldiers)

Onward Wiccan Warriors

Raising Spiritual Power

Voices joining voices

Chant hour after hour.

Watch the Full Moon rising

Bathe now in her gaze

Sing in joyous chorus

All our grateful praise.

Onward Wiccan Warriors

Raising Spiritual Power

Voices joining voices

Chant hour after hour.

Brigid comes at midnight

Fore is the Witching time

She adds to ours her bright light

And as one we all shine.

We have trudged for hours

Through the snow and ice

To Worship our Great Goddess

For this is our Rite.

Onward Wiccan Warriors

Raising Spiritual Power

Voices joining voices

Chant hour after hour

Sheep lay in the hay barns

Through the dark cold night

Lambs stir in their wombs

Quietly growing out of sight.

The Great Wheel keeps on turning,

Winter’s cold melts into spring.

New grass grows in the meadows

And as the sun returns we sing.

Onward Wiccan Warriors

Raising Spiritual Power

Voices joining voices

Chant hour after hour

Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved
Autumn Equinox

Autumn Equinox

If I should ask for anything

It would be that the autumn sky.

That the autumn sun and his deep red gaze,

Don’t fail to pass me by.

That I don’t loose

The wonder I see,

In the changing colours of the leaves.

That I never forget to give thanks

For the bounty falling from the trees.

The harvest has been gathered in,

The wheat milled into flour.

Straw and hay bailed up and stored,

And apples pressed for cider.

Wild birds and squirrels

Bury nuts and acorns madly.

Hedgerows weigh heavy with berries and fruit.

Winter’s food, sure to be devoured gladly.

So I’ll merrily walk through the fallen leaves

And bathe in the autumn sun.

Savouring the rays of this dying light

And give thanks for a job well done.

Although I mourn the vanishing light,

And don’t welcome the darker days.

The Venus moon now shines at night.

With her pure enchanting rays.

Copyright © 2014www.joolsart.3sistersofthemoonuk.com All rights reserved

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Dedications

This Page highlights those people who have inspired and inspire my work.

Historically they have been known as Muses.

For many artists their muses have been Spirits of the dead and for others close friends, teachers, role models and colleagues.

What is art without a channel of inspiration? In my humble opinion, it is like a plant without water, a dawn without the sun.

And so it is the very least that I can do in devoting a page in Honour of my Muses.

They are:





	Send

The Shadow and The Sword of Truth

Silence and the Shadow

If We Sit and Pray

The Light and The Shadow

Is it Ever Too Late?

The Path To Transformation

Let Magic Be

The World is Full of Witches

Onward Wiccan Warriors

Autumn Equinox

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