The Golden Legacy

The Golden Legacy

I am so excited to be a part of this box set, The Golden Legacy. My contribution is the time travel romance, The Price of Love. I hope you you will give this box set a look, and that you enjoy a really good read.
Love, Katy

FIVE stories of passion and excitement, all the result of THE GOLDEN LEGACY.

The legacy of a pirate treasure is either a curse or a blessing depending on if it’s used for good or evil.

USA Today and NY Times Bestselling Authors.
Nancy Radke – Rebecca York – Susanne Matthews – Katy Walters


The Golden Legacy box-set. Five stories by Nancy Radke, Rebecca York, Susanne Matthews, Katy Walters. Pirate treasure and romance.

Love survives despite the trauma of pirates, kidnappings, and murder; villains, lies and deceptions. Travel from the 18th to 21st century and find what perils and pleasure await in this romance box set collection based on the cursed pirates’ treasure of THE GOLDEN LEGACY.


2021-03-23T00:00:00

  days

  hours  minutes  seconds

until

The Golden Legacy releases.


You can pre-order The Golden Legacy at Amazon using the following links:


Touching the Stones

Touching the Stones

Touching the Stones at Stonehenge

These black Leviathans, the Stones,
Point to constellations beyond mortal sight,
Point to the land beyond death,
Silent Sentinels, surround the vulva,
Of the Great Mother Goddess
Brooding looming into Palaeolithic night,
 
Was there chanting, writhing in light?
Faces painted, lips spewing rhythmic groans,
Pagan souls yearning the Goddess?
Sacrificing the innocent to dark sight,
Screaming, in drunken stupor,
To the Immortal, earth's eternal breath.
 
The feathered shaman, blowing fetid breath,
Of herb, wine, straining with glazed sight,
Summoning the strangeness, the nectar.
Of sacrificial blood, and over the stones,
The shrieks, the groans, the innocents' plight,
Presides the Great Bird Snake Goddess.
 
Yet this primordial circle of the Goddess,
Vibrates to the Universal rhythm, the breath
Of celestial scars, their shooting flight,
Pulsating through pagan bodies to ignite,
The tame, nurturing visions buried in bones,
Revealing mysteries of the Great Mother.
 
With flowers, ivy, blood and wine they beseech her,
The dancer, the chanter, the shaman, the godless,
Entreat her; beguile her, to appear in the stones,
To come from the dream soul, from the land beyond death,
To tear through the blanket of night, to come into sight,
To take their mortal souls into the eternal light.
 
To feel the Beloved and Terrible Goddess's might,
The bite of the snake the flight of their Snakebird Mother,
Taking their souls to the celestial abode, the light,
Fearless, ageless, seated with her on her totemic dais.
Far above the carvers of fear, of blackness and death,
And it is this for which they chant amongst the groans, the stones.
 
To touch the stones is to yearn for sight of pagan night.
For light upon the blood rites of rebirth and death,
Within the stone vulva of the Snake-bird Goddess of the night
Stonehenge at Sunset

For more content, please browse my site and read through my many blog posts.

Katy Walters

A Taste of Blake

A Taste of Blake

William Blake: 1757 – 1827, is one of my favourite artists. Evocative and often dark, and rich in mysticism and philosophy, I find his work inspiring and thought provoking. His cottage is local to me and I have many fond memories of enjoying a glass of red wine in the Fox Inn, down the road from the cottage, discussing poetry and painting with a dear friend – sadly departed.

I present a small taste of Blake’s works that I really enjoy – including the famous ‘Great Red Dragon’ painting, which features prominently and terrifyingly in the Thomas Harris novel ‘Red Dragon’, the resulting movies, and also the TV series ‘Hannibal’, which I recently re watched as a dark antidote to lockdown blues.


And behold a great red dragon, having seven heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads. And his tail drew the third part of the stars of heaven and did cast them to the earth.

Revelations. 12:3–4 (King James Version)
The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun

Mad Song

By William Blake

    The wild winds weep
    And the night is a-cold;
    Come hither, Sleep,
    And my griefs infold:
    But lo! the morning peeps
    Over the eastern steeps,
    And the rustling birds of dawn
    The earth do scorn.

    Lo! to the vault
    Of paved heaven,
    With sorrow fraught
    My notes are driven:
    They strike the ear of night,
    Make weep the eyes of day;
    They make mad the roaring winds,
    And with tempests play.

    Like a fiend in a cloud,
    With howling woe,
    After night I do crowd,
    And with night will go;
    I turn my back to the east,
    From whence comforts have increas'd;
    For light doth seize my brain
    With frantic pain.
Hecate, by William Blake

I hope you enjoyed this taste of the genius of William Blake. I have many interesting posts that you may like. Please take some time to browse.

Love,
Katy

No Requiem for the Fisher Girls

No Requiem for the Fisher Girls
Winslow Homer: The Fisher Girls on Shore, Tynemouth

1800s and early 1900s, 1000s of girls employed as fish gutters, followed the fishing fleets. The work was long and hard, the girls gutted the fish and the “guts were taken out with a very sharp gutting knife. Their fingers were wrapped in “clooties” – bandaged cloths to prevent any knife nicks – but they endured painful sore hands. 


No Requiem

Moonstone mounds of herring,
Quiver,
Torn from the belly
Of the Sea Mother.
Her baldy rolling, groaning,
Bleeds,
Foam fingers clawing,
Plead.

The herring girl,
Slits the guts.
Fish eyes pale,
Beseech,
Steel flick of entrails –
Fish eyes flat.
No requiem for them.

The stench of fish, her breath.
Beauty weathered.
Bright eyes tired –
Girl's eyes flat.

Her dreams float with
Dead fish in parsley sauce.
No requiem for her.

Winslow Homer – Fisher Girl

If you have enjoyed this content, then please browse my website and blog posts. You will find information on my many books and even a gallery with photos and slideshows of my artwork. Love, Katy.

Copyright © 2010 Katy Walters
All rights reserved

Katy Walter’s Website

Ode to Benbulbin

County Sligo, Republic of Ireland. 

A Table Top Mountain

The first sight of this incredible mountain in County Sligo took my breath away. Later some miles distant from Benbulbin, in a stone cottage, sitting by an open log fire, I wrote this as a homage to an awesome natural monument.

Benbulbin was shaped by moving glaciers 320 million years ago. It is a place of history.  and legends. Benbulbin was said to be the hunting grounds of the Fianna, a band of Irish warriors of the third century. Legend has it the giant Fion mc Cumhaill (Fin McCool) tricked the demi-God, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne into fighting an enchanted boar, whose tusk pierces the demi-god’s heart. The mountain is believed to be the resting place of Diarmuid and Grainne. 


Ode to Benbulbin

Ponder Benbulbin

Yonder over Sligo,

Through clouds pewter dark,

Menacing.

Your brow,

A thousand foot fall,

Black, bulbous,

Thrusting through Winds that shriek,

At your Silence.

Waterfalls rage

scything bones of granite,

Sculpting jaws,

Jutting through mists.

Forests beard your face,

Mirrored in lochs,

Diamond bright.

Our car a speck

On a fly’s wing,

Droning on your skin of stone,

Gouged by the tears of time.

The might of your girth,

Grounded in Heaney’s bogs,

Feeding your arteries,

The blood of ritual

The sacrificial skull

And in your shadow,

Yeats sleeps,

Your presence,

His sanctuary,

Lest others tread on his dreams.

Oh Benbulbin, Benbulbin

BenBulbenSnow

Copyright 2010  Kathleen Ayres /Aka Katy Walters