#devotional moodboards

[datodinicshit]

Brigid of the Hearth

Made with photos sourced from unsplash.com.

[pearlescentbirdmom]

Hermes | Corporate Badass | Pink | Flirty

All pictures free for use from pixabay.com.

[emlyn-scribbles]

hel moodboard - based on my poem

she is not often viewed in the summer sun. perhaps she was made to autumn too quick for the sun to make its mark upon her. perhaps her summer has been suppressed by too long spent in the winter death which she calls home. perhaps when she winters harshest at the end of this era and the creation of the next, when she wars against those who took her summer she can push through the blizzard and come out into a new summer of her own. and perhaps then I can too.

read the full poem here

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follow @moieties-of-her for more hel

Ko-Fi

[datodinicshit]

Stoner Beach Bum Njordr

For @bookwyrmbran

Made with photos sourced from unsplash.com.

[emlyn-scribbles]

hel moodboard - based on my poem

I met her on the cusp of autumn: I met her though I didn’t yet know it, pressed between the pages of a graveyard. astride her half-brother - it is all halves with her – she was death itself and colourless, but still had the glow of mother warmth not yet the harsh of snow.

read the full poem here

follow @emlyn-scribbles for more original content

follow @moieties-of-her for more hel

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[emlyn-scribbles]

Athena moodboard

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for more Athena follow @divinelibrary

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[emlyn-scribbles]

hel moodboard - based on my poem

so many depict her in winter: the hardened battle general, leading her dead troops against the ones who condemned her. who imprisoned her father. who chained her wolf-brother. who threw her snake-sibling into the sea. they see her only in glacial rage, no thought of who she is beyond black-and-white life-and-death.

read the full poem here

follow @emlyn-scribbles for more original content

follow @moieties-of-her for more hel

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[emlyn-scribbles]

hel moodboard - based on my poem

I first recognised her in spring: the subject of arrogant fear, death clutched in her withered fingers but still with the innocence of the child she is. a child like my younger self, inward-turning, outward-wanting. my instinct was protect, protect, but what could I do? innocence is impossible to shield, I know so.

read the full poem here

follow @emlyn-scribbles for more original content

follow @moieties-of-her for more hel

Ko-Fi