Into Form Volume 2 :: Issue 3

Welcome to Wild Woman Rising

We are making the choice to sculpt and shape our reality. We are fully engaged and singing out loud! Our hands bring form to vision.

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Garden of Women

by Alisa Muñiz Blanchard

Women come together
cultivating a garden
of love
Using rocks of fear
To build a wall
Separating what was
From what will be
To what is
Hands up, palms will touch
The sky
We are not
savage witches
Waiting to be burned
In your fearfulness
But rather the flowers
Which bloom sweetness
And grow honey
Abundance quieted,
We stir
Disrobing our discreet influence
Shifting into seen leaders
Unyielding at the helm
Reclaiming tomorrow
By awakening today
Crimson wombs
Turn warrior scarlet
Pulling energy chords
Shifting this dimension
Of our reality
Back to center


by Samantha Moore

Evolution demands the shucking of my husk
For what (liberty) have I to incant lofty
from within false glow and click?
Lusty and alive
  golden sunlight on raw plasm
feels foreign yet comforting
like unfamiliar consonant combinations
sounding on my tongue,
  reverberating at the back of my throat —
The Unknown
foggily remembered like an old friend,
  casualty of traumatic disassociation
Brought back again now,
Bearing Love


by Lindie-Lila

Unbounded, flowing and free, Aphrodite rises from the ocean to liberate feminine sexuality.

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What if you were free to tap into your true creative potential?

by Rachel Sarah Jones, PhD

Imagine being able to access all of the ideas and inspiration swirling around inside of you — all of those thoughts and feelings that are often so fleeting we do not have time to take note of them. So much of our everyday lives are taken up by just trying to keep up with day-to-day tasks that we often do not have time to just sit and listen to our inner creative voice.

This creative voice is speaking to you all the time — all you have to do is listen to it and it will become louder. Taking a few moments to sit quietly each day and tune in to what your creative voice is trying to tell you will enable you to feel more centered and grounded and this will, in turn, start to open up the pipeline for your creative voice to be heard.

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Wild Women Review


by Sally Deskins & Laura Madeline Wiseman

Laura Madeline Wiseman: In the current issue of Poets & Writers, Jan/Feb 2014, Elizabeth Kostova writes in “No Ideas but in Things: The Importance of First Objects” that, “Objects make the world real to us, and they make literature real to readers, even if the objects involved have never existed. Trying to describe an object — real or invented — is a terrific exercise for any writer, it brings us back to the ability of language to convey something concrete, which is just short of magic, when you think hard enough about it,” (48-49). Intimates and Fools is a look at the object of the bra through poetry, illustrations, and body art. Meditating and writing about the bra was a terrific experience for me, especially in reference to the play and magic of language that Kostova talks about here, but I’m curious about what that experience was like for you as the artist. How do objects inspire you to make your body prints

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Blessing In the Myst of Brokenness From Your
Earth Mother

by Gwendolyn Pincomb

You are whole in the heart of the Universe.

All of your parts are sacred to me.

They all have a place
Where they are needed
Even in their brokenness.

So. Now.

Bring to me — all of your brokenness.
Bring to me your tears.
Bring to me what
  you fear or dread.
Bring to me every piece of yourself
  that you have ever rejected.

Together, we will weave you whole.

Not perfect — which I never intended.
I dreamed you so much more than that.
For I dreamed you — WHOLE.

And again!

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Fire in the Belly

by Araboushikha Art

She is the Goddess of passion unrestrained. A wild dancer with Fire in her Belly! She is Baubo the Dirty Goddess, She is Tierra Mama, Earth Mother, fiery, strong , bold, and free! Unashamed of her divine nakedness and her sexuality… reveling with wild abandon in ecstatic Joy!

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The Very Fabric of Her Being

by JoAnne Dodgson

As the sunset painted the clouds purple and red, a spider crawled out from the shadows and began to weave a web. I stepped toward her to get a closer look, cautiously keeping my distance. The spider’s close proximity evoked old habitual fears, those lingering effects of the rampant propaganda about the dangerous nature of all things creepy-crawly.

The spider looked otherworldly with her sleek round brown body held up by eight highly arched striped legs. She was a skilled acrobat, moving about with great agility. Intrigued, I spent much of the evening watching her.

The spider initiated her weaving by free-falling from the porch rafters suspended upside down and swinging side-to-side, gliding along a shimmering thread. She came to land on the very tip of a blade of grass far below the wooden beams. There she attached a grounding cord, anchoring her web to the earth.

She crawled back up the thread, expanding the intricate framework as she stretched fibers out in all directions like the rays of the sun. Returning to the center, she circled around, steadily moving further outward, making a spiral.

This artful weaver wove her web with fibers generated inside her. She weaved with the very fabric of her being, knitting threads together, forming patterns, building structures, joining diverse angles, shapes and lines into an integrated whole. Guided by ancient blueprints she carried within, the spider’s focus was unwavering as she weaved.

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Living Armour: Day Thirteen

Living Armour Series

by Emily Rose Michaud

“Craftwork establishes a realm of skill and knowledge perhaps beyond human verbal capacities to explain…” — Richard Sennett

The performance — Living Armour: Day Thirteen — is a meditation on the effort needed to preserve custom and to remember folk tradition. I find peace in silent work, when I work with my hands and perform physical labour. In Living Armour: Day Thirteen, I share with the audience what connection to material process entails, as well as embody the urgent need to preserve forgotten custom. A sense of power is shared collectively, in the act of making and remembering forms of craftsmanship. This is my way of becoming re-enchanted with nature’s living elements and re-enlivening this connection.

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by Aradia Lunabella

Mixed media collage . 2013

Astarte calls to the wild women out there that feel rejected and trapped in sexless marriages: no woman deserves to feel unattractive, unwanted and unloved. We are all goddesses after-all! This divine feminine art, inspired by the ancient Goddess of the Phoenicians, Astarte, gives voice to women that have been made to feel ashamed and to those that suffer physically and emotionally in their marriages.

She is the Goddess of sexual love. In Canaanite religion she was associated primarily with love and fertility, playing the role of divine courtesan. Astarte is the Greek form of the name Ashtart who, along with Asherah and Anath, was one of the three great goddesses of the Canaanite pantheon. She, one of the many names of the Great Goddess, is a figure of pride in feminine being, a celebration of the abundance that comes from a woman in touch with herself and her body.


by Laurie Gardner

Usha returns
Darkness fades
Birthed from the sky
Glowing announcing Surya’s return.

Always after the darkness
The first light
Gently awakening all life
Letting death sleep.

Announcing the coming light
Awareness after the night
Brighter times ahead
Darkness left behind.
Jai Usha!

Cycles continue to flow, dawn follows darkness and is followed by light both in celestial cycle and in the human soul. It is a natural flow. We are ignorant, then we start to get it, then we see things in their full light. So the cycle goes. The celestial flow is to bring dawn with each day, providing us room to grow – to grow the seed or potential of that day manifesting it

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Are you Awake?

by Trishuwa

“Resistance is Futile.”
I love resistance, all the passion,
my blood boiling or at least simmering.
Not too crazy about the fear part,
the underlying belly of my resistance.

Just so you know,
the spirit of Coyote is with me on this one,
I mean about loving resistance.

Resistance gives life shape, a form to start from.
The passion forges something new, a breakthrough,
although Coyote ignores or just doesn’t take on fear.
Oh Goddess wouldn’t that be great.
An open landscape to be explored, unknown territory,
curiosity the fuel for discovery,
no attachment to the destination,
adventure in each moment.
To travel breathlessly with open mind and heart.
An unknown territory ready to be explored, understood.
Something too howl about.
Something to celebrate, to live.

Well I’d rather be afraid than not go for the next thing,
but sometimes it’s a close call.
“Resistance is futile,” and
being awake, fully engaged, has a price.

I’ve paid some toward that debt, yet I still resist,
and heck, I already had visions.
And yes, I have resisted them.
Ah, I tell you the truth,
outing myself as a woman who was given visions.

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The Goddess Within

by Helene Rose

this woman thrives
this woman jives
to the beat of her own drum.
pleasure maker
treasure maker
this woman sizzles
this woman drizzles
dancing her joy
for you for me for we
are blessed to receive
her bold heart-beat
her sweet dancing joy
her ecstatic sweet sweat
drips through her fingertips
healing all life
transforming the way
we choose to be
in this moment
living so brilliant!
gratitude to the goddess

Mother Pod

by Amy Lenharth

Porcelain . 6″ x 4″

A symbol of spiritual transformation.

Sitting with Grief

by em jollie

Safety is the doorway through which Grief was able to enter my house. Now she sits, a wise old woman reclining in the worn wooden chair across from me. I watch as she patiently mends a story written in the language of thin threads and tiny glass beads. Although her hair and face are gray, the work she lays across the kitchen table in front of me is multicolored. An hour ago, on this same table, I slammed my hand down on top of the beadwork books Bill brought for me and raged: My grandmother should’ve been able to teach me how to do this work. But the anger was only defense, glitzy clothing for the body of my sorrow. I shook my head and quietly repeated: My grandmother should’ve been able to teach me these skills, this language. Trace caught my eye and broke the silence: she is teaching you. Now, Trace and Bill have gone, leaving only the ghosts of my grandmothers and Grief to keep me company. Once, Grief followed me, lingering like a spurned lover, but now I make her welcome. Safety is the doorway through which she entered. In turn, after I have sat with her through enough breath and tears, she shows me the design she has been quietly weaving this whole time in Yellow, Red, Black, White and Turquoise. The whisper of my fingers brushing over the beaded surface sounds like my grandmother’s laughter, and the pattern looks like a map to the room called Joy. As I glance up to ask what it means, Grief opens the gate and invites me to find my own dancing way into it.

Upon Reflection

by Bellavia

Oil on board . 16″ x 18″


by Katherine Brennan

If I pare myself down

whittle myself away

until there are only bones

my sharp and beautiful bones
if I count those bones


in an attitude that recalls prayer

if I worship them

for the flesh they do not carry


these bones

my hidden allies, my difference
they sing to me from beneath this heavy flesh


if I break this bread

into one hundred bites

and eat only half of those

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Goddess of the Sea

by Wendy Fairie Robinson

Mixed media painting on canvas . 6″ x 14″

Taking a Sip of Courage

by Nathalie Jackson

For some of you, you may be thinking that I’m talking about a shot of bourbon. As much as I believe that this too serves its purpose, the courage I’m referring to here is the kind that comes from deep down in your belly. The kind of courage required to handle life’s valleys, the really deep dark ones.

I have the pleasure of knowing so many beautiful souls in my life and as a result, engaging in many meaningful heart-to-heart conversations — if you haven’t guessed it yet, I do so love to get really real with people. And what I’m hyper aware of at this time is that real conflicts and real shadows are migrating to the surface of the lives of most of the people I know.

Maybe this is what the Mayans were referring to when they said that the end of the world as we know it would arrive in 2013. I believe that there is such wisdom here. The end of our own inner world as we’ve been experiencing it, is indeed upon us.

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by K Lenore Siner

Oil paint and resin on wood panel . 30″ x 24″

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Sometimes the Boat’s Just Gotta Be Rocked!

by Nicole Adele

A silly soul song from my kitchen to all those answering the call to “rock the boat” of the status quo by living from their SOUL’s truth!

Wild Woman Rising contributors are inspired visionaries offering up events where you can uncover the full expression of self and celebrate passages of your life in sacred ceremonial ways.
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