She is one of hens
Henna is good for all birds
but, henbane is not
When the brightest moon begins to wane,
And the sun breathes life into every plain.
Mother Nature sees life sustain.
Springtime starts her flowering reign.
Blue Vervain and Daisy Fleabane –
Pristinely plants spread in the rain.
Even deadly plants like Henbane
Grow with purpose and not in vain.
Mother Nature’s wisdoms remain.
Whether harvesting fruit or grain,
With her help all life can sustain.
Mother Nature brings sun and rain.
Farmers, plant crops, like sugarcane,
They prepare to make syrup again.
Babies watch through the windowpane.
Seeds are planted in rich terrain.
Others grow well in a flood plain.
Crops are dusted from a bi-plane.
She hopes man won’t pollute again.
In the past it was all in vain.
I can feel Mother Nature’s pain.
By Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
1/14/2017
Even Devils couldn’t tempt or soothe as sex and wealth they offer me.
These things are meager swings of mood – its witches' tools I want for me!
Henbane, hemlock, liverwort,
the left foot of a crow,
Saturn’s fumes and sulfur dust,
an image of my foe.
The withered pose of petal rose and Vervain’s vile tea,
the spider’s leg and lizard’s tail with deadly nightshade seed;
such salts and stones and baby’s bones,
bloodroot, bat, and bee.
These little things the Devil brings
are all I want for me!
As the blushing embers
of loves' magma begins
to flow.
The tenderness of each
petal of rose
elicits passions
within us, that grow. . .
like gaian gardens on Mars. . .
a silhouette crimson,
of falling stars.
As dew-lit morning glories emit
the love of Sri Krsna,
a heavenly blue, made Ololiuqui.
The feelings and emotions
felt between us, nestle
like a ballad
of love,
spoken a Shakespearean soliloquy.
As lovers, tendered with
anger's delight,
the enthralls
of a genuous serenity of Bane.
Making up anew, like lovers' do. . .
with a devil's eye,
the mystical Belladonna passion
of love and lust,
felt eerily with a touch of Henbane.
Wildflowers, passionflowers,
herbs of magical. . .
epical proportions resound
as the Angels Trumpet.
The psychotropic distortions
of lucid power.
Pray thee, when within
the gardens of wicked
and evil.
Become the enlightened Lotus,
and revel. . . I am as One! . . .
The all endeavored flower.
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