Categories
SONG WRITING

I Feel Just Like A Splinter

I am delighted to share with my dear Readers a beautiful song from my much loved friend, Penny from Penny’s Scar. She is an accomplished poet and lyricist, writes her own songs and music. This is one of my favourites. Her voice is sultry, smoky, sensual and the Lady is very sexy!
Have a listen and immerse yourself in the magick that is Penny’s Scar …
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I FEEL JUST LIKE A SPLINTER
Lyrics
Don’t want to feel lost inside
I run through the dark
The mask I wear and the pain I hide
Falling from my heart
I’m bleeding in the shadows
Cover me in shades of blue
I feel just like a splinter
That’s tearing me in two
In away it’s crazy
I don’t want to sleep
Cause the silence
It keeps scraping me believe
Don’t wanna stay here alone
I found a key on the floor
And honestly it hurts
The only thing I’ve ever known
I’m tangled falling on the floor
I’m broken
Wading through this storm
I feel just splinter
It’s tearing me into
In away it’s crazy
I don’t want to sleep
Cause the silence
It keeps scraping me believe
Don’t want to fall in between
Reading old love letters
All I’ll ever want or need
Hold onto me forever
I’m bleeding in the shadows
Cover me in shades of blue
I’m broken
Can I just hold onto you
I feel just like a splinter
It’s tearing me in two
In away it’s crazy
I don’t want to sleep
Cause the silence
It keeps scraping me believe
In away it’s crazy
I don’t want to sleep
Cause the silence
It keeps scraping me
I feel just like a splinter
It’s tearing me into
Feel just like a splinter
Can I hold onto you
To you
Like a splinter
© Penny’s Scar
Follow beautiful Penny and her music and poetry on Twitter
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Categories
Inspirational WRITING

Walk The Talk

“You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

I would like to share with my Dear Readers a beautiful Soul, Dave Thomas, creator of the “WALK THE TALK” podcasts. Dave is a serving police officer. In one of his shows he talks about being a Family Liaison Officer. In his calm and measured tones, he tells his own story. It is simply and beautifully told, brutal, graphic and sad but ultimately filled with hope. I have long held a huge regard for our Police Service in the U.K having had a very special person help me when I needed it most. Listening to Dave Thomas, I am in awe at his selfless service and have a greater understanding and deep well of compassion for those men and women who are our Protectors. For who could walk in Dave or his colleagues shoes, and have the Grace and courage to talk about the horrors they have dealt with and still have such kind and loving hearts?

By kind permission, I share below the transcript and the link to Dave’s personal testament. I hope when you listen too, you feel the sheer love this wonderful man has for others. Behind the uniform beat real human hearts, our Protectors are Sons, Daughters, Fathers, Mothers, Brothers, Sisters and Friends. Imagine your loved one had to carry the things Dave shares…

 

 

WALK THE TALK

by

DAVE THOMAS

 

Welcome to‘Walk the Talk’ a private podcast production with me Dave Thomas. Thank you for downloading this edition of the programme. I do hope you enjoy it. Until now I have interviewed folk with the hope and intention of expanding and illuminating the subject of well-being, in what will become a regular addition to these podcasts I will be sharing my own experiences and in this episode I will talk you through my work as a family liaison officer. At times heart breaking, but ultimately rewarding work. But the role has a shelf life and as you will hear that clock is ticking, and one day I know I will have to give up that role I volunteered for 10 years ago.

The opposite of death is birth, not life, as many people think. Life is what transpires between those two events of which we have no control. We anticipate and hope for a happy fruitful and long life, not only for ourselves, but for our friends and for the people we love the most.

For reasons I am yet to understand, circumstances and events transpired to bring a person’s life to its premature end, sometimes before it’s even really begun. If that death is the result of a potential criminal act then a Family Liaison Officer is parachuted in, landing firmly in the middle of an emotional no man’s land of a devastated family. I purposely use that language because we invade a family’s grief and intimacy with the same abruptness that a shell hits the floor. You are entering a vacuum with little to offer but yourself. Working as a Family Liaison Officer can be immensely rewarding: To help a fellow human being in their darkest hour and actually be in a position to change the world for one person or at least help them to adjust to a new one. That painful privilege does have a price. As in all things in life, the price that has to be paid, if not managed effectively, that privilege can come with a very high price indeed.

 I’ve dealt with pretty much every which way a human being can die. I’ve never had somebody die in my arms, unless of course you count my own Mother and that is an experience I have yet to get over. Working on the Road Policing Unit, I have seen ‘Body Disruption’ a non-descriptive non-emotional term to describe a scene from hell. I’ve seen decapitation and people burnt beyond recognition. I have seen folk without a scratch on them. Not pleasant sights and never unseen that will stay with me until it is my time to say farewell. But what really affects me is as a Family Liaison Officer, and continues to do so, is the utter vacuum for those left behind, the mind numbing, cold hearted emptiness, the grief that relentlessly keeps crashing over again and again. They feel it and so do we.

I’m often asked how do you tell somebody their loved one has died? I’ve learned from painful experience, and the answer may sound blunt, use plain words in simple sentences, “They have died, they’ve been killed.” They know what I’m going to say when they open their front door, it’s written all over my face and they’re listening hard for the words they desperately don’t want to hear. It’s important therefore to be clear because they are already in shock. I feel a tremendous amount of relief once I’ve passed that message, the worst thing for me is for them to say, “I know”.

A family liaison officer will, wherever possible, go to the scene of a fatal collision. Our brief by the Senior Investigating Officer on the circumstances and any clues as to the identity of the deceased. It’s not always that easy and there is a tremendous amount of pressure to let the next of kin know as soon as possible. We have to be sure we know the identity of the deceased and we’re always fighting a battle with social media.

I have lost count how many times I’ve destroyed a family with our news, but it all starts the same way. Visit the scene, do your background checks and trying to keep your mind on the road as you drive to their house. But honestly, you’re already in another place, preparing yourself to enter their world and to become a part of it. Even before you have got to the house, you’re soaking information in. What sort of neighbourhood is it? Style of the houses, even the width of the road. You’re driving along, then there is the house and you’re looking for something that if seen will fill you with dread; the toys of children lying in the garden. Advance warnings that this is going to be a tough one.

I know of a colleague that had to deliver that message to a waiting wife and children who were about to celebrate a birthday. I’ve had to get people out of bed, turn the gas off on a cooker for dinner about to be served, bury a dog that had been killed with its owner. The list is as long, as it’s varied, as it is tragic. I arrive at the front door. I hesitate to knock, taking a deep breath, as I raised my arm. Sometimes the door opens suddenly before I get the chance to knock. I introduced myself and insist I come inside. I ask if there’s anybody else in the house.  I’ve known folk we thought of being killed only to walk down the stairs. I also ask that question to make sure that there is support available. I take in every little detail. You can tell whether there is love in a house.

You are there in the knowledge you’re about to destroy somebody’s world. And with that, for the Storyteller or for the Messenger, over the years comes guilt. Sometimes my mind has wandered over to that famous Hindu text quoted by the father of the atomic bomb “I have become death”. But I know I’m only the Messenger. People react in different ways, I have been slapped, hugged, screamed at and even had a cup of tea made for me. I’ve nearly had a cup of tea poured over me! Over the years I’ve learned the power of silence. I used to try and fill that void, over the sobbing tears, invariably saying something stupid. Now I don’t bother.

The next huge emotional hurdle for me and my family is the formal identification. Yes, you see, they are my family now. I came into their world as a stranger and now our common friend is death. Identification is usually done at the hospital Mortuary; the staff are acutely aware of the circumstances and are so very supportive towards the next of kin. For many this is the time when the awful news finally sinks in. Instinctively I stand behind those who wait to see what’s behind the curtain, ready to catch them when they faint. All too often they will say to me they didn’t believe me until they had seen their Loved One with their own eyes.

The first few hours for a family liaison officer are draining, both emotionally and physically. Here is the start of a long painful route lasting many months, which is littered with hurdles and troughs. I have shared the grief of many families over the years, some start off as friends and remain friends, some start off as enemies becoming friends. But I am proud to say I’ve never lost a friend nor created an enemy. That takes more than dedication and hard work, it takes sacrifice, in point of fact.

So, to the real point of this podcast, all of this takes its toll, toll that must be paid. A willing transaction, nonetheless. Each subsequent deployment gets harder not easier. Genuine tears that I used to find easy to hide are no longer so. A mind racing with thoughts that get harder to put to sleep at night. I’m now unable to watch videos of cruelty to both man and animal, getting irritable over minor things. And yes, only the other week my hearing briefly dropped quite significantly due to that stealthy assassin ‘Stress’.

Being honest with myself, I realised that I’m getting closer to emotional saturation. I have given of myself without regret or hesitation. Over the years, the effect though is cumulative. I’ve given you a piece of me in exchange for a piece of your grief. I can’t take it off you, but I can help you to carry it when he gets too heavy. And as a result, you now have a part of me whether you want it or not.

So how much more do I have left to give? The honest answer is “I don’t know”, but I’ve learned throughout the years, and my own emotional intelligence, tells me, I won’t be waiting until it gets too late.

Quitting whilst you are ahead is not the same as quitting.

 

© Dave Thomas

 

You can follow Dave Thomas on Twitter

Screenshot 2020-07-03 at 20.10.17

 

“I slept and I dreamed that life is all joy. I woke and I saw that life is all service. I served and I saw that service is joy.” ~Kahlil Gibran

Categories
WRITING

Skinny dipping

athousandhats

Skinny Dipping

I see you watching, from the shore

wanting, needing, so much more.

Wondering, just how deep,

you need to plunge, to feel my heat.

I know, you want my caress.

To feel me encase every inch of flesh.

I need my love to come to me,

dive in to the very core of me.

Feel me touch, your smooth skin.

Take you, surround you, deeper in.

Lose control and ride the tide.

Feel me, need me, for all time.

Dive deeper,dance with my soul.

As two become one and whole.

Join with me, as our spirits soar

and we disappear from the shore.

Katie Magnet x   c.2013

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Categories
Audio poem POEM POETRY WRITING

IF by Rudyard Kipling & read by Dave Thomas

Written in 1920 the poem is a timeless classic and is a perfect example of Stoicism. It was first published in ‘Rewards and Fairies’.

This much loved poem is beautifully read by the Podcaster, Dave Thomas, from Walk The Talk

Enjoy his deliciously velvet voice on Soundcloud.

✨Click here to visit IF narrated on Soundcloud✨

https://soundcloud.com/user-627560584/rudyard-kipling-if

If you can keep your head when all about you

   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

   But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,

   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

   And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

   And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

   And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

   To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

   If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—

   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

This

Categories
MOTHER EARTH Nature POETRY WRITING

Rebuke of Thunder

Blue skies of Summer torn apart, as storm clouds come riding in. Time stands still. Will we hear the rebuke in thunder, accept cleansing from the rain? Gaia feels such pain, for her children have free will and may atone or fall into the abyss of eternal sin.

Eily Nash ~2020

I penned this little poem as I listened to the delicious sound of thunder rolling across the sky. Rain poured down over the beautiful plants and trees in my garden. I thought about the blessings of the Earth. All our needs are met. Yet what is it in a human that seeks to hurt where they could heal? Each other, our animals, environment, nature. Our birthright is as Co-creators but we are on the cusp of becoming the dark destroyers. We can reach for the stars or fall into the abyss. My heart breaks for us, what we have become and what we could be, for truly there is so much more than we can see. Eily x

#Gaia #ClimateChange

Categories
POETRY WRITING

Whispers…

Image:Giphy

And I loved him.

In that secret place

Where only the Soul hears the whispers of the heart.

And he?

I was no more the a safe space

A moment in time, shared.

I heard him cry in the wilderness.

Reached out my hand…

For a while he clung to me, but then feeling strong, he set me free…

And I?

Well, I could sink and die or just accept it was what it was.

Move on with my life, knowing I had loved…

Ohh… how I loved…

Him.

Eily Nash ~ 2020

Categories
LOVE POETRY WRITING

Tears from the Moon

Beautiful Moon Goddess from Pinterest

‘Why did my Prince leave me so?’ I searched the sky, looking for reasons why.

The Stars, one by one, put out their Light and tears fell from the Moon.

‘Princess, it is not for us to tell,’ whispered the West wind.

And I?

Shrouded in a blanket of the dark heart of night, could only cry…For my Sin in loving him…

Still💔

Eily Nash~2020

📖My books are available from Amazon💚

Categories
LOVE POEM POETRY WRITING

Cashmere Kisses

I closed my eyes, felt the touch of her cashmere kiss upon my face as she traced my lips with velvet finger tips. In that moment, I was lost. There was no going back. My gentle Lady had wrapped me in a gossamer blanket of love.

Eily Nash ~2020

Categories
PARABLE POEM POETRY WRITING

All Alone

 

 

 

person reaching for glow in the dark sticks
Photo by Nicolas on Pexels.com

All alone…

I held the hurt, I held the pain and all their sorrows

I saw such horror, and tears that fell as bitter rain

I stood tall, whoever they were, I Protected them all

 

All alone…

With rocks and stones began building my fortress home

Wanting to shout, wanting to yell but who could I tell

I was not living, I was burning in hell

 

All alone…

The dreams shook me from my sleep

Mind Movies, play again, they never cease

There is no peace, the trauma runs too deep

 

All alone…

One dark day the storm clouds came riding in

I looked down from the Tower I had built so high

The edge of a precipice, I fall or find my wings and fly

 

All alone…

Saturated by sorrow, I could hold no more

My Tower was now a prison and not a sanctuary

I had lost the key and was afraid to open the door

 

All alone…

My broken heart began to race, tomorrow I could not face

I believe an Angel of Light heard the calling of my Soul

On wings of Love she took me to blue skies above

 

No longer alone…

I was in a diaphanous castle in the Sky

The answers to my questions, all the reasons why

All the brutality, needless deaths and goodbyes

 

No longer alone…

A Lady of infinite beauty listened patiently as it all poured out

First a whisper and then a shout. Kindness too much to bare

The dam burst, I saw in her eyes such tender love and care

 

No longer alone…

Reflected in the eyes of the Goddess of all Humanity

I saw such deep empathy, compassion and love…I saw me!

I saw the rhyme and reason, watched my life unfold

 

She whispered my story needed to be told

So those walking a Protector’s path far from Home

Know they are Divinely Protected and NEVER alone

 

For we come from Love and will return to Love. Only Love is real.

 

Eily Nash ~2020

Image: still from a Gif shared by https://twitter.com/walkthetalk999/status/1271875479075721217?s=21

 

 

 

 

Categories
SPIRITUALITY spoken word WRITING

The Magical Music Man – Audio

I am hugely grateful to Dave Thomas from ‘Walk The Talk’ podcasts on the AudioBoom Network for narrating this little short story I penned. Dave’s voice is totally delicious … Like warm chocolate and fine wine…

Have a listen and Enjoy!

https://soundcloud.com/user-627560584/the-magical-music-man-by-eily

Love Eily x

Categories
FLASH FICTION LOVE POETRY WRITING

Summer Love

Blessed by blue skies on a sultry Summer day, I lay upon a lush green lawn in my English Country garden. The scent of Honeysuckle and Jasmine hang sweetly on the air, blending with Roses and Lavender. Such delicate fragrances delight the senses. They are dancing to the soft calling of birds and the low humming of nectar gathering bees. A Ray of Light playfully glints through rustling Beech Tree leaves and I watch Swifts riding the breeze. So high, soaring to the edge of blue. Soft caresses of sunlight are kissing my skin.

I close my eyes and dream of you.

Eily Nash ~ 2020

Categories
MAGIC OF NATURE SHORT STORY WRITING

Dimpsey Dusk

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DIMPSEY DUSK

I’d heard many an ancient story told, of the magic the Bluebell Woods may hold. Did I believe it, was it for real? If a mortal man stood in a faerie ring, precious time was something they would steal. Could there really be such a thing? The thoughts rattled around my head, I admit by curiosity I was led. It was back in the merry month of May, as I recall, ’twas Beltane day and  just as the dimpsey dusk had begun to fall, I heard enchantment call. 

I set off down a country lane, clambering over stiles, a rickety bridge across a rhyne and through the fields of Barley, until I stood at the entrance to the Bluebell Woods. I had left the world so mundane, seeking the magic that lives in a space beyond the confines of time. I stood very still, barely holding my breath. What if the myths were true, could meeting the Fae really cause a man’s death? Beautiful Bluebells, their scent pervaded the air. Suddenly I did not care as their tinkling chimes dispelled my fear, I could sense the magic as I drew near.

With glow worms to light the way, I followed a winding trail, determined to return to tell the tale. The leaves begin to sway, dancing to the birds signalling the end of day. Then I saw him, my heart skipped a beat. A little fellow, so dapper and neat. He had a suit of red and green, such a creature I had never seen. Shiny black shoes with silver buckles upon his feet. With cheerful words he greeted me, ‘Good Sir, Merry Meet!’

I was so surprised when he spoke and  told me he was of the Elven folk. Reaching up, he took my hand and led me into an enchanted land.How blessed was I to see a sight, granted to a mortal man that warm Summer’s night. In a clearing in the woods, the Beltane fire burned high and bright. Beside the Elf, I felt brave and I felt bold, and so I stood, quite at ease and protected by the trees, and watched it all unfold.

I was midst the Royal Court of the Fae as their magical May procession got underway, led by the Faerie Queen and her Holly King. Oh her beauty had to be seen! Her silken gown was spun from gossamer threads, a golden diadem upon her lovely head. Her flaxen hair was loose and long and came tumbling down. Her Consort, a majestic sight as he took her hand and they sallied forth into the night. The Faerie folk, Elves, Hobgoblins, Dryads, Sprites and Nymphs all bowed down to She who wore the Green Wood Crown. 

Enchanted I watched as their Majesties walked by, the Faerie Queen caught my eye. She beckoned me to join her entourage and follow the retinue. I did not hesitate, grabbing the little Elf by the hand, I did as she bid me to and went further into the deep dark woods. Along the way Fireflies flew, tiny sparks of  dazzling, dancing light, as the procession came through.

By the Beltane fire, I saw two thrones, hewn from ancient stone. I felt the power build and rise from the forest floor. I had wandered through a liminal corridor. A land of beauty, magic, song and dance. The whole forest was alive, and I was entranced. Beetles, bugs and Bees joined in the festivities. There was nectar to sip and cake to eat. A giant toadstool became my seat. Fallow Deer, Badgers, Stoats, Mice, Foxes, Hedgehogs and Voles are came creeping shyly in to pay homage to the Faerie Queen. Such marvellous sights, the like of which I had never seen!

And through the night music played, on a Harpsichord, flutes and Mandolins, and a Nightingale sang madrigals and songs of Courtly love. Oh how we danced and twirled and spun in circles, round and round. My feet hardly touched the ground! And then from somewhere high above, I heard a Barn Owl screech and in a happy, dizzy haze I fell upon the forest floor. The sights and sounds receded, I looked but although he was needed, my Elven friend was somewhere out of reach.

Beneath the light of a Flower Moon, the Faerie Queen looked upon her blessed realms of The Summerlands,  stretching as far as the eye can see. Beauty reaching to infinity. With a wave of her magic wand and the mists begin to rise around Avalon. Sleep fell upon me, and enchanted by the  Queen of the Green Wood’s spell, I kept the secret. For their story I would never tell.

Eily Nash (2020)

 

Listen to the delicious sound of Dave Thomas as he reads Dimpsey Dusk ✨

MY LATEST PUBLICATION IS AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE EBOOK AND PAPERBACK

Gossamer Threads: Short Stories

Categories
FICTION & POETRY LOVE WRITING

Quantum Fields

Image:Pixabay

Tell me my love, what is the essence of us?

Where do you begin and I end?

There is no Alpha nor Omega on the bridge across forever.

For I hold you in the heart of my very Being as if you were I, and I you. We come together as One.

Two charged particles of Light, meeting and merging in a quantum field in the dark heart of night.

Who could understand the mysteries of what the eye cannot see?

Only the secrets of the Soul can set free Love that lives and breathes across eternity.

Eily Nash

Categories
BOOKS LOVE POETRY WRITING

Hymn To Her

Good Morning WordPress World 😀

Thank you for reading and following my blog. Here is a little treat for poetry lovers, my book ‘Hymn To Her’ is free to download on Kindle ebookstoday.

Enjoy!

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹❤️

Categories
POETRY SPIRITUALITY True Life WRITING

The Ballad of the Magical Music Man

sunset hands love woman
Photo by Stokpic on Pexels.com

 

“He’s in you, He’s in me…The gentle breeze rustling through the trees and sun kissed rain falling upon storm tossed seas”

The open road can be very long when you are weary and have travelled way too far with a heavy burden of baggage of life slung on your back. I see by your eyes you are tired and alone, so come join me, sit down. Warm your bones by my fire. Kick back, rest for a while. Hear me strum my guitar, we’ll serenade the night by the light of the moon and soft starlight. I can offer you to sup the fruit of the vine, some elderflower wine, maybe a drop of Moonshine, or Dandelion beer? Whatever your choice, a cup of good cheer.

In the words of my song, there’s a tale to be told, my story is not new but a ballad of old. You see I have walked this path for many a year and many a traveller has greedy an ear to sit down and share good food sizzling on the pan and hear the music retell the ‘Ballad of the Magical Music Man’.

He was the stranger I met outside my tent, just like you, when my soul was rent, and this old heart has been broken in two. Chanced upon me singing the blues for those feeling old, battle worn and ravaged by time, strumming their stories in words and in rhyme.

He sat down beside me, kicked off his travelling boots and warmed his toes by the fire. I noticed the flames grew brighter and quite a bit higher. I saw the smile in his eyes, they laughed at it all, the highs and the lows, just how we can fall and how we can soar. Take flight, feeling fear like a Doe or face the good fight with a Lion’s roar.

“Met them all, without judgement,” he said, “those fizzing with life and the walking dead! Saw deep in their hearts and souls, secrets long buried, so easily read.”

The Magical Music-man? I asked where was he from? He grabbed a banjo and just started to strum. Asked where he was heading? His cobalt eyes looked to a star strewn sky, “How’s that for bedding?!’” Came his enigmatic reply.

The tales he could tell brought laughter and tears. Taught you enjoy your life and face your fears. He’d easily pick up and play many a tune on a tin whistle, a flute lute or lyre. By the light of moon and fading campfire. He’d make a Mandolin sing with plaintive desire. Told me he’d climbed the Himalayas, played both Bowls and Tingsha in Tibetan Temples on the roof of the World and the Banjo in the mountains of Appalachia. Said he’d sat with Siddhas at the banks of the Ganges and strummed a Sitar, then crossed the Mississippi to Memphis with his guitar. There was not a sight he had not seen, nor a place he had not been.

He was a Wizard, a Seer, both Mage and the Sage. He was an innocent child, and as old as time, a conundrum, paradox and rhyme. The soft, mountain stream, the sun on your face. He understood the rage of righteous might and black bayou’s in the dark heart of night. A gift of Grace and not of this time or this place.

When he left, I was a better man for him finding me when I had lost my way, pray one day he finds you too. The Magical Music Man, he’ll see right through you and set you straight on the path that is meant to be. No hiding, no defence or false pretence.

It’s no surprise he gave no name, without sin, without blame, the Magical Music Man? An Angel in disguise. A guiding Light through life’s dark night, illuminating God in you and God in me…The gentle breeze and the storm-tossed seas.

© Eily Nash

Extract from my latest collection of short stories, on Amazon now!

 

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“With threads of silver and gold, she worked at her loom creating a tapestry of love and life. Such is the art of the Word Weaver. ”

A beguiling collection of 33 tales exploring the multi faceted aspects of love and connection in interpersonal relationships. With just a touch of magic and a hint of the supernatural woven in.

From the pen of Author Eily Nash, the definitive collection of her short stories.

Categories
WRITING

I for INFJ

I am so excited to be part of this new anthology of #INFJ #Poetry. I actually cried reading the words the editors penned about my contributions. The Kindle version is available for pre-order, release date tomorrow! Paperback to follow on Sunday.

Did I say I was excited?!! 💕😀💕

Categories
POEM SPIRITUALITY WRITING

Dream Dancer ✨

Image:Pixabay

The Day is done, tired thoughts slowly fade to grey. Do you find comfort, as you lay down your weary head on the island of your bed? Drifting on the shifting sands of reality upon the shores of sleep. The Sandman will soon take you sailing into the void and blessed oblivion of the deep.

Catch the Moon beams as they come dancing in a playful game, glancing off the window panes, across the ceiling and upon the walls. They turn the darkness of your room into sacred, hallowed halls.

For in twilight hours and liminal space, nothing is as it truly seems. Do you want to walk into the forest of the night? I will take you through numinous mists and midnight rays of Light, onto the field of dreams.

Lady La Luna’s tendrils weave Her gossamer, silken strands, enticing you back to the Heavens above. Entranced by the music of the night, dancing across the stars, into the arms of the pure Light of Love.

The Lady heard the yearning of your Soul to be free, to be whole. There is so much more to see, so much more for you to be! Forget life’s silent screams, believe in Magick and know that you are innocent when you dream.

With the rising of the sun, the mysteries of night are done. Leaving fragrant fragments like blossom on the breeze and the whisper of the trees, beyond reason, beyond rhyme. Moments that breathe, in fragile memories of the Truth, we only find by stepping outside time.

~Eily Nash 2020

📚Find my books on 📚

www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
LOVE SHORT STORY WRITING

Song of the Siren

In shallow waters he teased and played, enticing hungry bodies to lust and fall to sin. Then with practiced ease, no remorse or backward glance, he would callously walk away, leaving heartache in his wake. Broken shells and shattered dreams on the empty shore of love.

Until the fateful day he heard the Siren’s warning call.

‘Beware the beautiful mind that draws you in.’

Intrigued by the beguiling deep, he slowly waded into the stillness of the sea, thinking he was free to ebb and flow and ride the tide, like the Starfish on the beach.

Yet each time he heard the song of the Siren, he went further until there was no ground beneath his feet.

Falling

Falling

Siren calling …

Who could save a drowning man from his own desires as he became a willing prisoner to the deep?

Eily Nash

Find my books on http://www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
LOVE POETRY WRITING

Wicked Games …

With sea green eyes, you taunt and tantalise. They dream and fantasise as you tease, you please, bring the unsuspecting to their knees. Behind an enigmatic smile, hides deceit & guile. Such wicked games you innocently play, then coldly walk away. The lying enemy within, whispers Love is a sin.

Eily Nash

Find my books on http://www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
POEM POETRY WRITING

Night’s Magick

Image:Pixabay

Meet me on the field of dreams
Where nothing is as it seems
Deep in the realms of dark fantasy
Desire brought us together in reality
Summoned by power of Witch light
Love and lust lit up the heart of night
Dawn broke & the cold light of day
Crept in to steal night’s magic away✨

Eily Nash

Find my books on http://www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
POETRY SHORT STORY WRITING

Witch Lit Eyes

Image via Gif

 

 

By beguiling witch-light I fell so deeply into the depths of her Obsidian eyes. What was I looking for, perhaps some long forgotten lost aspects of myself?

Instead I found her true essence hiding in the twilight chambers of her heart.

Through me, a mortal man, she was set free. No longer destined to be imprisoned walking on hot burning coals behind hell’s gates, but to walk hand in hand y with me, in the hallowed halls of Sacred Love that flow into Eternity.

 

Eily Nash

 

 

📚All my books are available on amazon.com/author/eilynash📚📚And also a free selection from the Apple iBooks store 📖

 

 

Categories
POETRY WRITING

Bohemian Lovers

Image:Pixabay

It was just a passing glance, meeting by pure chance. And for a moment frozen in time, my heart’s true desire was mine. Freed from the constraints of conventual reality, I looked into his fathomless eyes, let my Spirit fly free. Across the eons we travelled far. Bohemian Lovers dancing on Stars.

Eily Nash~2020

📚All my books are available on amazon.com/author/eilynash📚

📚And also a free selection from the Apple iBooks store 📖

 

Categories
SPIRITUALITY WRITING

Love Song of the Universe

From my home midst the Star Nurseries of Alpha Tauri we saw Her tears falling and heard Her distress call come travelling from a beautiful blue planet, across time and space and our shared galaxy, Orion’s Arm.

The Spirit of the Earth, Gaia, had cried out in anguish. Her children were in pain, for in their ignorance they had opened Pandora’s box and unleashed the Furies upon themselves. We set sail, across the cosmos, passing planets, nebulae, suns, stars and moons.

With heavy hearts we stood on the roof of the world and looked down, as if into the abyss itself. Gaia whispered the Truth. That which should have been heaven upon the good Earth was now becoming hell. And all was in the balance betwixt Light and eternal darkness.

We looked and saw deep into the hearts, minds and souls of Man. There were those who wore the armour of dishonour, prepared to sacrifice the World for greed, seeing goodness as weakness. There were also those who wore a mantle of goodness, loved and cared deeply for all Life, knowing it to be a precious gift of the Godhead. They longed for the paradigm shift that would birth a new way of Being. Understanding that ‘All is One.’

The sorrow of the Earth ripped through us. We could not stand still and watch the sons and daughters of the Earth destroy each other along with Gaia, their Great Mother. We had carried with us across the Galaxy Seeds of Light. We scattered the precious seeds far and wide, knowing they would grow in the hearts of men. It would take time, but the tide would turn.

Our mission complete, we returned home, And as we travelled, we played the music of the Spheres and sung in praise.

Back on The beautiful blue planet, our Star Seeds heard the Love Song of the Universe. They remembered they were born from Love and would return to Love and they too began to sing✨

Eily Nash ~2020

My books are available as Kindle & Paperbacks from 📚www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

Wychwood

Dear Readers,

A gift from me to you. I want to make my books freely available as we all work through the global challenges of Covid -19 and social distancing and self isolation. Amazon, who publish my books allow 5 free days. So this week I offer you a supernatural tale of a coercive relationship, where love triumphs over evil 💕

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B009DPANX2/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_awdb_t1_jePGEb4N2DG27

Categories
POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING

Check Mate ♟

Image:Pinterest

You were the one who chose the game

And placed the pieces on the board.

You made your opening move.

Lies wrapped in Truth.

Wanted your Lover’s game darker.

Black Queen with sights set.

Picked up your sacrificial pawn.

You did not see the gambit

….until it was too late.

The silent Rook took flight

Swooped and took your white Knight.

Check Mate.

Game over

❤️♟🖤

Eily Nash ~2020


My books are available from http://www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

As a gift from me to you, my collection of poetry, HYMN TO HER, is available as a FREE Apple iBook from the App store 🖤❤️

https://books.apple.com/us/book/hymn-to-her/id1488135543?mt=11&app=itunes

Categories
BOOKS FICTION FICTION & POETRY WRITING

Meet Me At Midnight

Here is another free book for my Dear Readers to enjoy. A collection of short stories available from Apple Books. With Love from me to you 💕

https://books.apple.com/us/book/meet-me-at-midnight/id1442301868?mt=11&app=itunes

Categories
POEM POETRY SHORT STORY WRITING

Two Rivers

 

photo of person across the london bridge
Photo by Maël BALLAND on Pexels.com

 

Alone in London, I stand by Tower Bridge. Old Father Thames hears my thoughts of you and how deeply I am falling. Wise is he, takes them rippling on the current down to the endless sea. 

Somewhere far away in a Northern land, you are standing too, on your bridge of stone and steel beside a Castle Keep. Do I imagine that I  hear you calling and feel you reaching through the ethers  for my hand? 

Day is fading and our City lights flicker into life. Do they hear the music of the night? And meet with moon beams upon the waters where both our ancient rivers flow? What stories do they share and what secrets do they know?

Perhaps they speak of Lovers hearts taking flight to meet upon the Bridge across forever. A special place, lost in time, where we come together. In the heat of the night, two rivers meet and our bodies entwine to dance upon the glory of the Tyne.

Eily Nash ~ 2020

My Books are on www.amazon.com/author/eilynash ~Come have a look!

 

architecture bridge city downtown
Photo by Geoff Duke on Pexels.com

Categories
FICTION WRITING

WYCHWOOD~Free Kindle eBook this weekend🖤

Categories
LOVE MAGIC MAGICK POEM POETRY WRITING

Beautiful Fairytale

Did she fascinate, charm and beguile? Maybe a distraction for just a while. Did she fill your thoughts in your waking hours and seep into your sleep. Before you knew, were you in too deep? Did she really have that power? With her faraway eyes, she saw other worlds, far beyond the veil. Was she for real or were you lonely and she was only a beautiful fairytale?

~Eily Nash

My books are available on

amazon.com/author/eilynash

Beautiful image from Pixabay

Categories
OCCULT POEM POETRY WRITING

Lady in Red

Lady in red, what secrets you hide. Wearing a cloak of night, you seek dark delight. Do you go to his bed or light a fire in his head? Where do you reside? Heaven or hell, or are you just a figment of a succubus’ spell?

~Eily Nash

amazon.com/author/eilynash

Categories
POETRY WITCH WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

Succubus Spell

I loved him well, I loved him true

Something he just could not do

For to lay with me would be a sin

I knew he longed to touch my skin

Yet he kept me so far out of reach

Scared his defences I may breach

Passion’s flame burnt in his chest

Lustful thoughts gave him no rest

At last, of free will he came to me

Torn, tormented by his own misery

My beloved Mortal slipped into my bed

Offering his body, I took his soul instead

And down we went to the depths of hell

For he had fallen for a Succubus spell.

~Eily Nash

Find my books on amazon.com/author/eilynash

Image from Dark Souls1 on Pixabay.com

Categories
LOVE POETRY WRITING

Falling Petals

✨My Poetry is now available on iBooks on Apple and as Kindle & Paperback on Amazon ✨

Categories
POEM POETRY WRITING

Beguiling Darkness

You desire to dance with the beguiling darkness and seek to know She who holds the magick of the Night? Beware what you wish for…Lest you will fall under a spell of fire & ice, heaven & hell. She wears the wings of Angels & Demons. She wears them well…

~Eily Nash

Image:Internet

Categories
BOOKS FICTION WRITING

The Most Peculiar Adventures of Magdalena Mouse

I adored making up bedtime tales when my children were young. Each night the adventure would continue and we all looked forward to what came next! I revisited those precious days and the magic of childhood whilst writing  ‘The most Peculiar Adventures Of Magdalena Mouse’ ~ It was such fun penning an old fashioned children’s story, and it is perfect for big people too!

Screenshot 2019-11-27 at 11.02.57

Beautiful Violetta craves excitement and when a beauty pageant is staged in her sleepy Somerset village she is determined to win the first round and go on to become ‘Queen of the World.’ With her head full of dreams, vain Violetta sets of for the bright lights of Victorian London. Forgetting all about the little Mouseling she has left behind Violetta’s heart is set on finding fame and fortune. Magdalena wakes to find Violetta has vanished in the night. Determined to find her, the little Mouseling bravely sets off in hot pursuit after her wayward Mama. Although her journey is littered with many pitfalls, perils and full of danger, taking her all the way from England’s shores to the New World, she never gives up hope. Will Magdalena find Violetta. And if she does, will vain Violetta return back home? Follow Mouseling Magdalena on an amazing adventure and find out just how with a lot of courage and a big heart she becomes ‘Maggie the marvellous Mouse’!

This charming little tale of the mouse with no tail is now also available from Apple’s  iTunes bookstore.

Link to Apple Books Edition

Screenshot 2019-11-27 at 11.02.57

 

As well as Amazon as either paperback or Kindle editions, link below for preview 🙂

Categories
LOVE POEM POETRY soulmate Verse WRITING

HYMN TO HER

I am delighted to introduce you Dear Readers to my latest offering. My 11th book is a 1st for me. I love poetry with a passion, both reading and writing. My first collection of my own work has been a pleasure to work on. I hope you enjoy reading just as much as I enjoyed writing “HYMN TO HER” available now to download and read now!

Screenshot 2019-11-19 at 16.54.14

What is it about Woman, the myth, the magic and mystery, that has beguiled and inspired artists, poets and writers since time immemorial?

Hymn to Her is a love song to Her. Beautiful, Strong, Fragile, Fragrant Woman as she travels through the many facets and forms of love.

The beautiful cover girl is courtesy of DarkSouls1 @ Pixabay

Categories
FICTION & POETRY OCCULT Verse WRITING

Liminal Light

Enchanting Creature of Liminal Light

Dwelling betwixt both day and night

You see both the Sacred and the Profane

Angels and demons know your name

Categories
POETRY WRITING

Blanket of Love

 

IMG_7936

Night
Falls
And
In
The
Fabric
Of
My
Dreams

I
Am
Wrapped
In
A
Blanket
Of
Your
Love

IMG_0614.jpg

I LOVE TO MEET MY READERS

IF YOU ARE ON TWITTER, POP OVER AND SAY HELLO!

Screenshot 2019-10-10 at 10.18.21

Categories
FICTION & POETRY POETRY WRITING

Ashes of Love

Flames of Desire
Image:Pixabay

 

Who is to blame

When passion’s flame

Begins to wane

Who will remember

The glowing embers

Of this Lovers game

In the ashes and dust

Of burnt out lust?

 

Eily Nash~2019

Categories
Fiction LONGREADS WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

AN ANGEL CALLS

 

In 2012 I penned my first novel. It came from a place of pain. Seven years on I have grown both as a Writer and a person. I decided to revisit my book “Wychwood” and give it a re-write, detaching myself from the drama and writing as an observer. Although I received praise for the book I wanted to infuse it with more Grace, more Magic and occult layers. The Main Character has a new name Phaedra (Fay’dra) and I have introduced some new and more sinister characters.

This is Chapter One…

 

1 AN ANGEL CALLS

 

 

It is said that for every soul who walks upon the Earth a Guardian Angel is assigned ~ there are times the Angel may walk beside a soul, there are times the Angel may carry that soul and then there are times the Angel can only stand and watch and weep…

 

Midwinter. Dusk came stealthily creeping in, intent on stealing away the remains of the day. Fog descended over the grey London skyline, wrapping the Victorian villas in a numinous mist. White stucco coated walls that had shone in the harsh glint of winter sunlight now took on a ghostly air. Comforting coals burning in the hearths within cast a warm glow through opaque windowpanes, orange eyes keeping watch on a cold, dark night. ‘Fire light, fire bright, all is well tonight.’ Smoke snaking from tall chimney pots into the chill air warned any gathering preternatural creatures of darkness to stay away.  As dusk succumbed to night’s embrace, the fog began to lift, revealing a star-studded sky. Lights were extinguished and weary folk made their way gratefully to bed, giving thanks to the Lord for the day that was done and the morrow yet to come. One house stood apart from the camaraderie of its neighbours, no warmth or light was to be found within its walls. The interior of number four was just as bleak as its cold, nocturnal façade. Winter’s icy fingers reached into the very heart of the despondent house, into a cavernous bedroom dressed in heavy furniture from a bygone century back when the house was proud and new. A huge mahogany bedstead, barely discernible in the gloom, rose as a dark island in a sea of darkness. Centre stage was given to a huge black Victorian cast iron fireplace, inset with tiles glazed with an elegant William Morris floral design. It was too dim to appreciate the contrast of the beautiful pure white flowers, against the blackness of the cold and empty hearth. Lilies for the departed soul now restored to innocence after death. The room was out of step with the modern world unfolding beyond its ornate walls patterned in rich shades of gold and teal. Heavy jade brocade curtains dressed the window, although slightly closed they admitted a pale sliver of light to slyly come creeping in and illuminate the scene within the room.

From the remoteness of the huge bed, a young child sat up, big hazel eyes wide open, scanning the room for a phantasmagorical Presence she could sense hiding somewhere in the shadows. She drew an eiderdown tightly around her tiny body, tucking the edges under her trembling chin. The big bulky frame of her Father lay beside the little girl. He was sleeping, lost in Morpheus’ arms with heavy breathing reverberating around the room, chasing away the creeping silence. Shadows danced along the walls, thrown up by arbitrary moonbeams. A gilded mirror hung above the fireplace and the child was mesmerised by the forms within its silvery depths.

At bedtime Phaedra loved to curl up with a book of fairy tales enchanting her. She imagined the ethereal creatures from the pages, elves and goblins, fairies, centaurs, unicorns, talking owls, nightingales and brave Knights and beautiful Princesses were all living in the mirror, inhabitants of a world within worlds. As another ray of capricious moonlight fell across the Oak floor, it illuminated a pale, languid, crumpled body. Comatose, the flaccid form lay curled in a foetal position, an almost empty brandy bottle clutched in a lifeless hand. A malevolent shape crouched beside the figure. Both were reflected in the mirror. Seeing the Presence, she had sensed, the child let a strangled sob escape into the gloom, alerting the man. Startled, he scanned the room and assuring himself and his tiny daughter that nothing was amiss, he urged her to snuggle down and sleep. His wife was where he had left her, on the floor. Having witnessed the same drug and alcohol induced scene for far too long and powerless to change things, he had ceased to care a long time ago. Defiantly, the child shook her head, soft auburn ringlets swaying around her little heart shaped face, eyes luminous and anxious.

‘Daddy, the thing is here again! It is sitting next to Mummy!’

‘There is no thing, it is just the shadows.’

‘I can see it in the mirror, flashing dark eyes with red sparks burning like hot coals, Oh Daddy!’

‘Phae, it is just the reflection of the embers in the fireplace.’

‘Daddy the fire is out. Mummy is cold, laying there on the floor, does she need a blanket?’ She enquired tentatively. ‘Why is Mummy on the floor again, and not snuggling up with us like she used to. Why is that scary thing next to her?’

‘Oh, that thing? That’s just Mummy’s shadow friend.’ With tired indifference, he humoured her, eager to go back to sleep. His once beautiful wife’s modelling career had paid handsomely but come at a terrible toll with easy access to drink and drugs and the descent into oblivion and addiction.

‘Shall we cover Mummy to keep her warm? She may be afraid of the dark and are you sure the thing is a friend?’ She persisted.

So many questions, so few answers. Thinly veiling his feelings of revulsion and contempt, voice laden with disgust, the weary man offered comfort ‘The floor is where Mummy and her shadow friend belong, go back to dreamland, Phaedra.’ Then kissing her on the tip of her nose, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

The little girl burrowed under the covers and lay down with her tiny face snuggling into her Daddy’s warm back. Mummy was fine, Daddy knew best. Her worries alleviated she slept the rest of the night comforted by the deep sleep of the innocent. In her dreams, the child called for an Angel, an Angel of Love and Light to come and take the thing away and keep Mummy warm. And the Angel hearing her call, came.

In the hours that lay on the cusp of night and day, a luminous golden radiance bathed the room and an Angel, with benevolent arms outstretched, stepped out into the gloom. He held a gossamer blanket, woven from the light of the stars from the heavens above. With a gentle touch He wrapped the child’s Mother in love and light and tenderness. For the Angel knew, just as the child knew, that the woman although bound by addictions was still deserving of love and compassion.

‘She is mine!’ Hissed a misshapen demonic form.

‘No! She is His.’ Serene cobalt blue eyes looked heavenwards. The Angel knew whilst barricaded into her own pain, it would take a lifetime to free the woman from her tormentor and captor. How long that life would be was written in the stars, yet the Angel was prepared to fight the demon for her eternal Soul.

The demon’s dark eyes flashed red sparks of pure malice and it pushed the brandy bottle across the floorboards. The woman stirred and through a haze she reached for the bottle and taking it from him she drained the last dregs. In his clawed hand the demon held a fresh bottle. The woman lunged at him, eager to feed her addiction.

‘It is yours, but not whilst you clutch at that useless thing!’ it spat in loathing, pointing his gnarled claw at the blanket of Light.

The blanket of Light felt good and through the haze of drugs and alcohol the woman knew she should keep a tight hold.

‘Go away!’ She cried, wrapping the blanket tightly around her body. Grace washed over her and soothed her unquiet soul into a deep and peaceful sleep where the demon could not reach her.

The demon spewed fire and brimstone. ‘If I do not take the mother, I shall return for the child!’ it hissed at the Angel, before its malignant form dissipated into the darkness, along with the stench of stale alcohol and bitter pungency of opiates pervading the air.

The Angel prayed silently and bestowed a quiet benediction over the child and her lost Mother and the man who had long forgotten the truth, as he slept in his warm bed whilst the woman he once loved and had lost her way, lay on the cold floor.

A fragrant blend of frankincense and attar of roses filled the room. The man did not smell the perfume purifying the space around him, his child and his wife. Nor did he see the celestial blanket of stars woven with the Light of Heaven wrapped around her. He did not see the pure white lily the Angel had placed in the woman’s hand when she took away the empty bottle.

He did not see the Angel of Light standing at the foot of the bed, waiting. The demon would return. The woman would try to fight. Without the help of the man her redemption would only come the other side of the veil. The man could not see these things, for he too was enslaved by his own addictions and unable to feel the Presence of God when an Angel calls.

And so, the Angel stood and wept.

~~~♥♥♥~~~

 

Eily Nash~2019

 

Thank you for reading.

The Original version will remain in print as I work on my new version.

 

Categories
FICTION & POETRY SOUL soulmate SPIRIT SPIRITUALITY WRITING

Where Love Lives For Evermore

Categories
FICTION & POETRY OCCULT WRITING

Noli Me Tangere

Eily Nash-2019

Categories
FICTION & POETRY LOVE POETRY Verse WRITING

A Witch’s Moon

Deep within a magical wooded hollow

He beheld her, The Lady, standing there

Fading light upon her rich auburn hair.

Dressed in a delicate gown of Autumn brown

Slender fingers beckoned to him, follow

As they danced to the song of the rich earth

Leaves of burnished brown slowly fell down

Beneath a canopy of silvery soft starlight

And golden honeyed light of a Witch’s moon

Enchanted by the Lady of the Greenwood

The Lord of the forest, her consort that night.

 

Eily Nash ~ 2019

model with autumn leaves as a dress
Photo by Alise AliNari on Pexels.com

Categories
FICTION & POETRY LOVE MAGIC OF NATURE POEM POETRY WRITING

Forest Of Hearts

Can you hear the song of the trees

Sweet notes of bronze, red and gold

Dreams of fire falling at your feet

Carried on the wings of the breeze

Gaia’s Autumn carpet gently unfolds

In the forest of hearts as Lovers meet

Eily Nash ~ 2019

 

gothic-3719055_960_720

Beautiful Image: DarkSouls 1 at Pixabay.co

Categories
POEM POETRY Relationships soulmate WRITING

No Roses 🌹

I want no red roses, romance or vapid poetry. Perfume, gifts and jewellery, these things are not for me.

Put no rings upon my fingers, nor chains around my soul.

Bring me the dark heart of night, an Adepts power & passion’s flame burning bright within a pure white Lily flower.

Take me by the hand and walk along moonlit shores at the ebb tide of the sea, lay upon the shifting sands of time and bare your soul to me.

Then under a canopy of stars love me endlessly.

Eily Nash~2019

Categories
FICTION & POETRY LOVE WRITING

Fade To Grey

Empty

Words

With

Nothing

Left

To

Say

Fragments

Forlornly

Hanging

On

Empty

Shores

Of

Washed

Up

Love

As

The

Essence

Of

You

Fades

To

Grey

Leaving

The

Vague

Memory

Of

Your

Face

In

Some

Obscure

Place

~Eily Nash 🌹🖤

Categories
FICTION & POETRY SHORT STORY WRITING

Aching Hunger

Words: Eily Nash

Images: Giphy & Pixabay

Categories
FICTION & POETRY WRITING

Wild Roses

‘Let me take you by the hand, ‘ he said.

‘I will take you to to the place where the wild roses grow, we will sit a while upon the the lush green riverbank beneath a sun kissed sky and watch dragonflies dance upon peaceful waters as they flow by. There is no other, my dear, I plight my troth to thee!’

I took him at his word and my True Love gave to me a rose. Petals as dark as blackest night. The thorns tore deep and caused my heart to bleed. My red blood fell upon pure white snow. My tears lost upon turbulent seas. A murder of crows cawed at my misery, the truth was there to see. My True Love lied to me.

🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤

Eily Nash (2019) ⌒*✰‿✰*✰‿✰

Categories
FICTION & POETRY Uncategorized WRITING

She Devil

 

 

 

What Demon’s work is this game?

She Devil! stoking passion’s flame

Delicious, decadently dancing fiend

In the burning caverns of my mind

Beneath a guilty moon and soulful sky

You  lead me into delightful sin, why?

Your hungry lips insatiable on my skin

I must resist your touch, cannot give in

Your body sways, taunting me, teasing

Your form is luscious, and so pleasing

Sensuous, beguiling, alluring temptation

Where is the Priest to perform rites of purgation

I am lost to darkness and  a creature of night

Succubus, forged from  perdition and infernal light

The fires of hell may consume my eternal soul

With you, my demon lover, I am healed and whole

 

 

© Eily Nash ~ 2019

Categories
OCCULT SPIRITUALITY Uncategorized WRITING

Heaven’s Warriors

 

You may look at us

And call us the Damned

We are not!

We are Heaven’s Warriors

Who chose to descend into the abyss

And rise from the fires of hell

The chains and ashes of pain

Bearing Chiron’s wounds

Renewed and reborn as a Firebird.

Glorious. Triumphant.

We bear our scars to hold your sins

So Mankind does not suffer as we do.

By the Grace of God we are cleansed

From all iniquity and human sin…

We are Angels ofLight.

 

 

 

Categories
OCCULT WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

Dark Heart of Night

Darkness falls.

The witching hour calls.

That which has been constrained by chains of day, is unleashed into the dark heart of night.

Born of a thousand stars and the fires of hell. She is incandescent, infernal Light.

In dreams she comes to you. Invades your thoughts, willingly you invite her into your bed. Excited by a demon lover, your body enflamed by her touch. You succumb to her dark charms.

There is no escape from that which has been made manifest by your own deep, dark desires.

Pray for the light of dawn and breaking of the day, lest the Succubus feeds her voracious hunger, devours your heart and carries your very soul away to be consumed in flames of the endless abyss.

Categories
SPIRITUALITY WRITING

Angel Wings

She cried out into the night for an Angel of Light to heal her pain. The Angel, hearing her call, came . And stood and wept. For he knew the burden was hers alone to carry. For how else would she know just how strong she was … How else would she too get her wings to fly?

Categories
SPIRITUALITY WRITING

Flowers in Her Hair

🌹🌛🌝🌜🌎✨🌺🌿🌼🌸🍃🌞🍄🐝Eily Nash🦋🕸🌳💚🧚‍♀️🦄🦇🐬🌾🔥🍎🍋💦🌈⭐️

 

Her feet were bare, flowers adorned her hair.

Kissed by the sun & the soft touch of sweet summer rain, she stepped out of her black velvet cloak to dance sky clad in fields of green and crops of gold.

Gaia’s child chanted Her words of power, with a heart flowing with gratitude for the bounty of the land and the gift of life, for the Great Mother had showed her the secrets, wonder and beauty of the Earth.

A canticle of praise flowed from her lips to God in His heavens above.The Father’s benediction spread across skies of blue and fell upon her and all his holy creation below and those who follow ancient paths and the ways of old. ✨Blessed Be✨

As Above, So Below.

 

🌛🌝🌜

 

 

Categories
FICTION & POETRY SOUL SPIRITUALITY Uncategorized WRITING

Beautiful Soul

Thinking of some beautiful souls I know…

 

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You bring a gift to the Earth

The song of your eternal soul

Sings magic words of power

Beauty’s cleansing shower

Washing away pain & debris

Torn psyches healed & whole

Spirits soar freed from captivity

Dancing in the Light of rebirth

 

~Eily Nash (2019)

 

 

Categories
POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING

Distant Star

A distant luminous star

Secretly loved from afar

Such was she to me…

 

by Edward Robert Hughes
Edward Robert Hughes~Night

Categories
FICTION & POETRY LOVE POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING

Con Amore

Her Adagio flowed

Con Amore

Con Amore

 

Soothing Soul

Seared scars

 

His Tears flowed

Con Amore

Con Amore

 

~Eily Nash

 

 

 

adagio.jpg

Categories
FICTION & POETRY WRITING

Deceit

woman in black long sleeved shirt holding her neck
Photo by VINICIUS COSTA on Pexels.com

Deceit lays disguised

Behind fathomless eyes

And innocent lies

 

#micropoetry

Categories
LOVE POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING

Love Light

She cried out into the night

And hearing her pain

He sent her Love Light

Making her whole again…

Image:Pixabay

 

 

 

 

Categories
LOVE MAGIC POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

Driftwood

abab
‘By Power of the Night
And bright Moon Light
On shifting sands of time
Let my True Love be mine!’
From his lonely shore he did not hear the siren’s’ plea.
Her words returned…
Driftwood, on the ebb-tide of the sea.
~Eily Nash
Categories
LOVE POETRY WRITING

FALLEN ANGEL

Descending

Into

Dark

And

Decadent

Desires

For

You…

Categories
POEM POETRY Uncategorized WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

Wisdom of the Fae

Wandering in the woods today,

I heard the wisdom of the Fae,

“Beware the games people play!”

How true, the untruths people say!

Tinkling laughter, so bright & gay.

Smiling,  I went merrily on my way.

 

~Eily Nash

 

🌺🌳🥀🐝🧚‍♀️🦋🐛🦄🍄

D47Oo87WAAIS-g8
Isn’t she just Precious?! Fairy by Arthur Rackham.

 

Categories
WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

The tale of the 40D’s and Tiffany’s 😉

O’er, my Beloved’s thoughtless treat has caused me such distress. He has given given me a bucket full of manky stress 🙁

Dear Eily, what could make you so mad. Has your man been really bad??!😡

Well listen up, M’dears with eager ears…

‘Darling, I am going to gift you a Premier 24 hour Membership to the gym with me!’ Says he, a touch too gleefully.🏋️‍♀️🤼‍♀️🚴‍♀️🏊‍♀️

I trembled, I shook. Sweaty excercise, so not in my book!

‘Er, no! ‘ says I ‘that would make me cry. I am lush & lovely as I am. Don’t you appreciate my gorgeous assets, 40D … do you want to shrink me?? ‘

I saw the thoughts whirl in his head…As I invited him to snuggle up and watch my favourite movie in our king size bed.

‘Oh no my Love, what would you prefer instead?’

‘Beloved, I don’t want to throw my toys from my pram, but I’d rather like a shiny, Sparkly something. Nothing grand, a bracelet for my hand. I’m feeling a tiny luxury, maybe a little trinket from Tiffany’s!’ 💍💝💎

His face lit up in a big smile, ‘The 40D’s are here to stay, both yummy breakfast in bed and the Tiffany trinkets are on the way!!’

~Eily Nash

Image: From the Tiffany Shop

✨Find my books on Amazon ✨

www.amazon.com/author/eilynash

From the Tiffany Store 💕

l

Categories
SPIRITUALITY Uncategorized WRITING WRITING & BLOGGING

The Broken Heart

feather-1598306_1920
Image by A_Different_Perspective from Pixabay

 

Phaedra woke with a start. Her heart shape face was wet with tears, the dream still hanging vivid and lucid in the room. Tears falling for the hurt child within this woman, tears falling for the passage of so many years, filled with too many hurts. Tears falling for all those other souls in pain, whose hearts also ached from so much sorrow.

Phaedra woke with a start. Her heart shape face was wet with tears, the dream still hanging vivid and lucid in the room. Tears falling for the hurt child within this woman, tears falling for the passage of so many years, filled with too many hurts. Tears falling for all those other souls in pain, whose hearts also ached from so much sorrow.

Closing her eyes, she became aware of a soothing sensation, as if gentle soft hands were caressing her face, wiping away the tears, stroking her hair, as one would a child. She felt strong hands remove her evil husband’s grasp from her body. In her mind’s eye, within that special screen where clairvoyant scenes had played since as long as she could remember, an image began to form;-

On a black velvet pillow, a red organic mass, which she knew to be her heart, lay pumping and pulsating erratically, weak feeble beats alternating with rapid panic-stricken throbs. The tubes and arteries extended out across the darkness, connected to nothing, going nowhere. Blackened and wizened at the extremities. The heart was whole, but slowly cracks and fissures appeared rending it apart, huge chasms ripping the breaking heart asunder from the ventricles which fed it leaked weak rivulets of blood. The erratic beats started to slow, the pulsations now just involuntary spasms, the heart was dying and darkness was closing in. Then a voice, clear, strong, and powerful reverberated in the dark theatre of her mind,

‘This is your pain born of this lifetime, these are your wounds.’

A pair of hands appeared over the stricken heart. Hovering over the heart drawing and pulling dark, shadowy shapes and forms from the crippled organ. As each dark mass was pulled forth, a fissure closed, the chasms began to shrink. The hands were now pulsating, beaming a high frequency of energy emitting particles of vibrant white light. Piece by sorry piece the torn and rent heart began to meld together. The hands of light picked up the heart from the blood soaked black velvet pillow and gently encased it within a warm and healing embrace.

Phaedra now clearly saw her strong, healthy heart. It was whole, complete, and no longer beating in the blackness, but held in radiant golden light. Suddenly filled with an electric jol