Samhain – Winter
DARK ROAD
Benighted on a lonely road
Between the clouds a single star
The one and only point of light
Above the darkness of the moor.
A thought before the darkness fell:
The hawthorn berries in the hedge
A redness in the empty trees
Like fire in the distant lodge.
A path that seems to have no end
The only certainty this night
The splash of feet in puddled mud
Hope shadowed in a clouded heart.
Heron [2014]
DEATH’S DOOR – DOGGEREL
What if death is not a door
And nothing but our eyes are blind
But take a different way to see
The place we hide behind the space
If touching slightly to the blue
If treading to the scent of bells
Would cause us all to understand
The view we struggle to get to
The shaman who you disregard
From whom you turn with grim visage
Is perfectly aware that you
Reject the mushrooms strange effect
So give no thought to death at all
Stay strong and true and so alive
Inhabit only Earthly realms
You’ll find the truth when life unwinds.
bish [2014]
INCONSISTENCIES
It’s Indian Summer once again
my thoughts turn inward,
I worry I may lack consistency
as the dark half of the year begins.
Around me the world becomes
a kaleidoscope of wonders
foretelling the wisdom of this season.
While I begin my own spiritual harvest
awaiting the few hours I will spend
between the worlds with my ancestors.
I stop to enjoy the golden harvest, pumpkins
and Indian corn sheaves decorate roadside stands.
I listen to weathered faces of Farmers
sharing their round lush harvest with strangers
passing along their childhood stories with each
rainbow coloured ear of corn
seeds for the coming generations.
October is a snapshot of the Gaia’s perfection.
Chilly and brooding; just what she wanted
it all to look like, forever. Or at least,
just long enough to entice winter roses into blooming.
But I think she too may lack consistency of seasons.
Judith Prueit [Samhain 2007]
SAMHAIN 1
Year’s turning
through a season
on a day
in a moment.
Everywhere becomes as thin Iona –
beguiling dangerous mysterious –
places here beyond time’s reckoning,
perception’s ordinary boundaries lifting.
Interstices move revealing
between realities
the pathways
single silken strands
guiding others’
passing forth and back
haunting, seeking, blessing.
From this side the wait
anxious, bemused, curious
who of those a wandering
who to be inviting,
of those who went ahead
have gone before,
all carry messages
some bring knowing
others share teachings?
Much to ponder
though winter’s icy depths
after Samhain’s passing places
close for another year.
Merchywen(Aurora J Stone) [2013]
SAMHAIN 2
Samhain.
Portals opened.
Gates unlatched.
Thresholds crossed.
Movements through
time space
time’s place
space time places.
Messages
ancestors
ancestral messengers –
listen,
whisper’s echo
who ventures forth
who harkens back
forth and back?
Across beyond
beyond the bounds
boundaries disregarded
energies swirling tumble;
Patterns
unpicked reconsidered rewoven.
All time merges.
All space becomes one.
All places permeable.
Samhain.
Merchywen (Aurora J Stone) [2013]
SAMHAIN NIGHT
Wrapped in a woollen blanket I sit and watch
As lithe limbs of mist crawl through the land
Strangling the dawn in a lovers embrace.
In her ice like eyes her passion does stir
She loves the luminescent god of her sleepy days,
She traces her finger along the light of his horizon
Teasing him with her cold touch.
He knows that worms play amongst her toes, her skull.
She is old and experienced as time itself,
She is haggard and mysterious,
As beautiful as the Northern Lights.
Her shrivelled up breasts once heavy with milk
As the trees were once heavy with leaves
Press against the ragged breathing of his firm chest.
She brings peace, a mirror, she is his truth
She knows her lord as he knows his lady
She is his death, his clarity, his host
He finds solace in the darkness
Of her tomb like womb.
With lips worn with age she caresses
Kisses his supple smooth skin
She relishes in his beauty and youth
So opposing to her own.
Her dried poisoned tongue
Delves deep into hot moist life
Her skeletal fingers tangle in his tendrils of soft gold
Passionate struggle.
Arching spines twisting into the night
Needing each moment
Life in death
Death in life.
The last leaf falls, the trees are left grieving
A single tear falls, she is losing her sunshine
What was green becomes white
What was day becomes night.
With his final breath frost covers the window
Keeping me safe from their fateful tryst.
He has planted his seed.
In my hearth I see a hint of his rebirth
But for now I will wait out the cold.
I look as the sunset is swallowed by nightfall
The lady of death has claimed her throne.
I whisper farewell to the last rays of light.
The wind begins keening
She laments her loss, her victory
Winter has consumed the sun.
Catriona [Samhain 2006]
SAMHAIN’S MYSTICAL CALL – A HARVEST TRILOGY
Sunlight Waning
Earths fertility is failing
Ripened crops in the fields
Mother Earth gives up her fruits
As we reap the harvest from spring sown seeds
The darkness beckons peaking over lights shoulder
As natures orange cloak prepares to descend over the green trees
Celebrate in corns golden joy.
The Sunlight fades as the darkness approaches, but today is in balance.
The harvest of fruits from the trees gives life to the creatures of the earth.
The final warmth of summer bathes the land
As the plants and trees start to withdraw into winters gloom
But first comes the Autumnal hues of red, brown, yellow and gold
preceding winters stark grey cold
Birds fly south across the autumn skies
As the glint of summer sun disappears from our eyes
Now is the time to withdraw
As the nights draw in and temperature falls,
We look forward to Samhain’s mystical call.
The heat of Summer, but a distant memory.
As Father Sun descends the western sky.
Darkness now reigns as the light is retreating.
The veil between the worlds is thin.
This is the time to celebrate the turning of the years wheel,
And to remember those that have passed.
This is the time to rejoice in Samhain’s mystical call.
Dark windows dressed with orange bright Pumpkins.
Their twinkling light warning the spirits,
Enchanting the children with their flickering glow,
As through the trees the first chill winds blow
Let us raise our glasses to the ancestors and toast to the future,
Let us cast a spell for good health,
Praise the goddess, the mother, the crone.
While we drink our mead and feast on earthly harvest
Now is the time to embrace Samhain’s Mystical call.
Steve (Stormwatch) [Samhain 2013]
SAMHAIN NIGHT
Thrice is a lucky number three.
Chevron and grail make the trinity.
Three the goddess: maid, mother, crone,
Each face a season of its own
Three sing magic’s harmonious tones,
Three were there and three were gone.
Three clad in tartan took their flight
And found their way one Samhain night.
Three times three nine hostages gleaned.
Three takes Patrick in shamrock’s green.
Three sought to rule though not by light
A throne returned to the lawgiver’s right.
Three white roses with young green leaves
Turn our petals to brown’s appease.
Black appears the mask of blight
As lyons dance on Samhain night.
With summer’s madness at its end,
Samhain brings the harvest in.
To scattered seed are we all bound,
The secret three in Samhain found.
Janice Lamont [August 2004]
SAMHAIN SONNET
And so the wheel returns to Samhain stark
A time of leaf fall and the last descent
Of stick tree landscape turned back to the dark
And warmer times recalled like sad Lament.
Lugh’s golden corpse seems frozen when above
And warmth has come indoors as death’s veil nears.
A time to think of those now passed we loved
This is no time for falsely holding tears.
But after tears must come frivolity
For we still live and Summer shall return
So let there be misrule and anarchy
For this short time come let the bonfires burn!
Each one of us returns to Ceridwen
For that is how we come to live again.
Cursus Walker [2006]
THE REMEMBERING
The bright full moon rests on a velvet black November sky,
dry leaves move as if to dance on the wind and leap into the air.
I hear the song of the night,
I draw it in and feel the power.
I close my eyes and the night echoes in my mind
like a song on the wind
longing to be heard,
glimpses of a life so long ago lived but only a remembering away,
I once could call the moon and she would listen.
I once could hear the talking of trees in a time when they had much to say.
I have lost the wisdom I once knew and now I am still.
Even so, the moon still waits for me and the trees still speak.
I must remember how to speak,
I must remember to listen,
I must remember the past.
For it is the only TRUE future I have.
Gyllian Wolfsong
Imbolc – Spring
IMBOLC
This is the wolf-month, savage, bitter
The icy wind brings worst of Winter
February is harsh , cold and drear
Also the dead-month, the time of fear.
But new life springs even in the cold
Ravens build nests, larks singing bold
Lambs are born, new blades of grass
Time of light in dark, of Candlemas.
The Cailleach, old woman of Winter
Ends her rule, even seeming colder
Reborn a young maiden of Spring
Bride comes, birds begin to sing.
Bride with her white wand brings
Breath into Winter, awakenings
Dead Winter opens eyes to tears
Smile and laughter now appears.
The sun rekindles its fire, brighter
Spring, fragile hope of the warmer
Times, green shoots on the bough
New seed with spade and plough.
Plait St Brigid’s cross, gift food
Lay on window sill for plenitude
Place in stables, bless the beasts
St Brigid’s Eve is time for feasts.
Imbolc is here, the Celtic Sabbat
So light candles in every habitat
Celebrate the ever dawning light
Days lengthen, all will be right.
Tony [2010]
IMBOLC
Then, the turn was not broken apart and everyone except
absence slided granting.
Then, a whisper was enough to gather the parts and the
blockage could not dare to prevent the bravery of the
impulse.
Then, when water spurred her wings, we departed in the
wind.
Then, the battle of battles was running after lightning to
be the foretold gestation.
Then, walls would not have been the excuse to quiet down,
nor the snow reason to shut away, nor vapors enough to
cloud over.
Then as soon as a sigh overflowed veins, we turned even
the marrow of the borrowed wits returning.
Then, we were drop, leaf, dew, cloud, seed, dust particle,
furrow, current, dream, eye, feather, heel, gust, fruit, sand
grain, bud, bridge, memory, whisper, roar, footstep… we
made footprints on the stream’s anticipation.
Then, hanging from shadows we snuggled by candle’s
light so it would sleep never.
Then, the barge was the bed, shelter the smoke and
company the lark.
Then, we were among others for among us the turn would
have swept us away, consuming moist, swallowing
darkness and petrifying ice.
Then, from our sight emerged translucent visions,
crystalline words and powerful secrets.
Then, our voices vibrated days, caressed nights and
sealed tomorrow.
Then, we were not legend.
May this Quarter bring us back among others for the
signs are waiting to be told and this wheel is there to be
turned!
Ximena Eduarda [2010]
IN THE MISTS
Breathless misty dream fog sings
Deep hearted winter days
Crows calling, frosted branches beckon
Silvered spider webs sway
Cold wind blowing, northern ancestors wing
Trickling under skin
Solace hunted shadows snug
Haunted death wilding light
Ivy blossoms blue berried spheres
Rosehip promises delight
Hidden in the wisps
Solstice past, wintered hearts enfold
Endless cold and gathering light
Yearning shadowy twilight days
Imbolc comes calling fast
Holding on to winter’s edge
Falling freely yew berried dreams
Trailing tears enveloping
Heart’s thaw at last
Joanna van der Hoeven [2009]
SNOWDROP SOULS FOR IMBOLC
The Innocence raised a child within,
A Soul un-invoked to rise afore
The Purity of Gentleness allows to Join
The soul of another
It doth allure.
For His has also known a ‘veil,’
Clouding childhood in differing ways,
The Innocence brought forth today
Shalt join together to mend those days.
Waters of Womb though far apart
Have flowed between us all along,
Our Souls and Spirits destined to Join,
Our Candles lit – Light will prolong.
Infused with Love, with Dreams, with Earth
Until Our Time doth meet its Birth.
Mouse
UNTITLED
Gentle, unknown leaf
The sun has darkened you
And now time curls at your edges
Worrying away your soft sheen.
The time for your dances has ended
And now the fall to rest is before you
Return to Earth, your mother
Embrace and lay at one with her.
You will be called again
To be drawn, up and out with the sunlight
One story among a lifetime of stories
Live it to your best and in the telling, be true.
For you will dance again
In the breezes of summer
And with your soft shine
Show the joy of your spirit.
Avey [The Oak and Feather Grove – 2008]
WAITING FOR IMBOLC
Jack frost has lain his winter carpet over the land.
The trees skeleton like limbs silhouetted against the cold leaden sky.
I see a glint of colour in the holly tree
As robin red breast calls to say hello and blue tits flutter by
Offering brightly coloured inspiration for new life that is to come.
First green shoots trying to push through the frosted hard earth.
Dormant plants showing the first buds of new life,
Waiting for the young sun god to mature.
Waiting for the land to be bathed in the warmth of regeneration,
Waiting for Imbolc’s maiden goddess.
Stormwatch[2013]
IMBOLC HAIKU
Dripping with snowdrops,
winter trickles into spring
sunlight on snow
AndrewSmith [2013]
Beltane – Summer
BELTANE
Waiting for this kiss, I missed the day
Eyes closed, anticipation a wash of falling water
-The May scent, blackbird, dew-blessed sunlight
All slipped by, unnoticed, as I waited, so aware,
Until dusk touched my face with the softest whisper
And I saw the dishonour of my expectation.
Julie Wren [2006]
BELTANE HAIKU
Drinking in earth,
soaking up sunlight-
heart bud blossoms
Andrew Smith[2013]
BELTANE MEDITATION
As time immoral begins,
See only the darkness of night,
Greyness becomes visible,
See the great pyres, staked tall and waiting,
The sun peeks above the horizon,
The great fires spring to life,
Feel the heat, smell the smoke.
The fires of need are kindled.
The Earth Mothers gift complete,
All day, powered by our vigilance, shall these fires burn.
As time immoral passes, so shall we
Only to be born again and rekindle the sacred fires.
Emrys Glastenen [Bard of the Triple Spiral Grove]
BELTAINE NIGHT
Languid intensifying majesty,
awakening landscapes of fire.
Curvature of feminine time
snares the masculine,
heavenly shafts traverse the plains of desire.
All that comes before is past,
yet in a moment is gathered in,
and thrust spiralling outward
to where a deeper love begins.
Tryw [2007]
SPRING
Brightness
Longing for shadow
Spring sunshine seeps into soggy ground
Light too bright
Croaking evenings and the surprise of
Frog spawn mornings
Forsythia’s bloom
Birch leaves bursting on bared branches
Beckoning
Nothing to hide
Joanna van der Hoeven [2009]
SWEET SPRING DAY
Sweet Spring day
sun misting through trees
shapeshifting the path into
something magic.
Cascades of yew pollen
– tiny wren trampolining on branches –
blackbird searching and digging
through the rich earth
spider with dancer’s legs
twirls between crinkled beech leaves
whilst birdsong plays a melody to
the rhythm of the stream.
Sitting with my back against Lady Oak
I am held by her strong embrace,
the sun drops slowly down the sky
the afternoon’s warmth fading
but still I linger
held by the energy I feel and see
pulsing beneath the bronze carpet
of last year’s summer leaves,
reluctant to relinquish
this sweet Spring day.
Cloudberry [2009]
Lammas – Autumn
AUTUMN
All the world knows of your beauty,
Your dazzling, fiery shades.
You burst into breathtaking brilliance
The further the sun dips and fades.
Each complimenting the other,
The three-quarter dance of the wheel,
The sun and the Summer surrender.
The Earth mysteries are revealed.
I listen to sounds of this season.
The leaves crackle through the cold air.
The music has changed as the wind plays new tunes
Through branches increasingly bare.
Elaine Bateman
AUTUMN EQUINOX
Midges feebly knead yellow air.
Pignuts fatten, smoke drifts
From unseen fires and under earth
The languid, silent seeping of grey filaments,
The almost-invisible hair of ghosts. Spores
flavour the heavy autumn air like saffron.
Here and there,
ear-fungi on elder branches prick up
to catch the trumpeting of sudden chanterelles,
and startle at the clatter of pigeons
trundling home to roost,
smoky-feathered.
Here the honey of last light is sweetening decay.
Leaves freckle the skin of the sun,
and the sky covers her own face,
aching again for the caress of swallows.
And slowly, slowly…
Summer shoulders his leaf-burden,
Patient, drowsy, and picks his way
slight and spindle-legged,
off through the darkening wood.
Mark Wiliams
AUTUMN HAIKU
Rustle of laughter,
playing chase with the wind –
in the schoolyard, leaves
Thoughts have their seasons –
I gather fallen leaves
and stuff the compost bin
Andrew Smith [2013]
BLOOD BERRY MOON
The world was swirled in mist this morning,
My open window cool, inviting,
Naked and sparkle eyed with sleep,
My skin in the prickled dampness,
Of stranded cloud drops, cool and fresh.
My first breath like dream breath,
A lung full of water from under the sea.
Bloodberry moon is sailing in,
She shifts and drifts on tides of the mist,
Storm dragged free in summer’s wake,
To brush the berries shades of west,
And churn the fields to deep rich depths.
Autumn pounds like the sound of a shell,
With my ear to the ground I can hear the earth sing.
The leaves start to curl with the colour of fire,
The burnt decay of a seasons sun,
Life spark blown ripe with juice so sharp,
And berries from flowers like ancestral lights,
Their small spindles wait to bead my blood,
In offering for a taste of sweet sacrifice.
With a flavour of darkness and a smell of the end,
Which pools on the earth and then seeps to the sea.
Red Griffiths-Haynes [2002]
EQUINOX GREETINGS
Scorching cold, wet heat
dry water, asphyxiating air
gaseous solid, solid gas,
stagnant river, perennial flower,
spiritless sun, lifeless life,
flavour of non flavour flavoured,
tastes like wind without a gust
of the enchanting lethargy
walking immobile of stillness
to be the non being
of usurpation.
We have awakened.
–
May your navigation through Germination in the South
expand with Mother Nature’s fruits; be it to the North,
may Balance return what was sowed to incubate life once
again.
–
May life’s multidimensionality be in your roads until
November 6th, day we will cross to the next stretch of the
Solar Cycle.
Ximena Eduarda [2009]
SONNET FOR LAMMAS
The grass feels so parched upon this dusty cracked clay
My fingers slipping through uncountable golden seed heads
Foxtails, meadow fescues, sedge and rye for the hay
Spiders spinning old tales of summer with silver threads
Softly undulating in the warm wind upon ridge and furrow
Seas sun-sparkling with toadflax, buttercups and oxeyes
Bees in the clover, a pheasant’s entrance narrated by a crow
And a woodpecker laughs as the lark reaches for the skies
And I sit, bending stalks, my head sinking into my hands
The hope of my grandmothers, as the breeze lifts my hair
The sweat of my grandfathers as they worked for their lands
Sharing warm bread and cider, their laughter filling the air
As a mouse scampers clear, the scythe slicing through
The hum of the combine harvester grumbling into view
Emma Restall Orr [2010]
SUNRISE FOR EARS
Who has shown the sunrise?
The skylark did.
We peered hard into the metal clouds
Our hearts banged with fists to let us in to
The sunrise,
Close your eyes.
In sweet contemplation
Among the gifts of honey mead,
Crusty bread,
And poppies shedding petals,
And roses, posiesʼ spilling delightful smells,
And seeds for birds and snuffling creatures.
We heard.
We listened to,
The rain pitter patter fall,
And the Sun King rose on secret wings to soar,
Vertically sure of flight,
And his song will take you to the night,
A sunrise in our ears
Via skylark.
Trish Fraser [2006]
THE AWEN OF AUTUMN
What was glistening green
is now amber and gold,
yet as fair on the eye
as when young, though it’s old.
The energy strong
as the colours arrange
and paint on the woodland
the patterns of change.
Dank air fills the nostrils, the mulch midden groans
with mountains of leaves
that are swept from the lawns;
to mould through the winter, then boil, broth and brew
into foods for young grass
that will shine with Spring dew.
Through the Awen of Autumn,
the Prajna; the Chi!
The vibrant life force
is sent wandering free.
As a seeming death dealer;
decaying and ending.
But just Nature, at work,
on Her, tending and mending.
Coryllus
THE LAST DANCE OF SUMMER
“Promise me,” he said
“the Last Dance of Summer,
I’ll want to hold you one last time
before I have to go.
I’ll take you tightly in my arms
and together we will dance
through the fields and green woods,
all moments as the Last.
I’ll give you all my warmth,
breathe gently on your face
and dance you slow and close
into the falling night.
And when all my strength is gone
the earth will pull me down.
Will you stay with me, watch over me
until I wake again?”
Magda X
THE SUN IS SINKING
The sun is sinking low on the horizon,
And my lady prepares for her well-earned rest.
She gowns herself in the splendour of golden lingerie,
No words can describe her beauty,
Long has she toiled through the spring and summer
And the fruits of her labour are ready for harvest.
Soon she must sleep ‘neath a crisp white sheet,
But first she lovingly tends to her charges
Ensuring all are provided for in her absence.
As she slumbers I will watch over her,
Gaze lovingly at her sleeping form
And greet her joyously as she awakens in spring.
Phil
WINTER SOLSTICE
Within the forest we now stand
Cathedral of the living land
Honouring the sun’s rebirth
Among these sentinels of earth
Linked by roots and branches high
Deepest earth to darkest sky
Standing tall with quiet ease
We find our peace among the trees
Acknowledging the ancient dead
Upon whose land we now do tread
Keepers of this timeless place
Guardians of this sacred space
Witness to our solstice rite
On midwinter’s longest night
Gathered in our circle bright
To birth our vision with the light
Joined in purpose, hand and heart
Of this moment we are part
Spirit moving from within
A bright new phase does now begin
Joanne White [2008]