Samhain

Relatives, there and in-between

Will visit me on Halloween 

Their faces now within a frame

And in my heart they will remain

Our stories passed in ages gone

Of ancestors stories, speech and song

Those from below please come above

All welcome, you'll remember love

Pass through the place you found your rest

I offer now, know you are blessed

Too see you all now through the mist

You're all the reason I exist

Nemoralia

The Nemoralia fayre, also known as the Festival of Torches, is an ancient Roman  festival from August 13–15 to honor the Goddess. Worshippers mainly women would carry torches around sacred lakes, wash their hair, and tie ribbons along the route. Pets and animals were sacred and no hunting was allowed.

I've done Nemoralia since the 1990s, mostly in secret. I used to live near a river. I'd sneak out to bath naked in the woodland stream I'd wash my hair under the moonlight, dress my hair with flowers and read dedications to the Goddess. Leave offerings under a nearby tree. 

Wash and bathe

Flowers in your hair

Blessed be Diana

Nemoralia fayre.

Now I am open to my faith. I spend time decorating the house with ribbon and flowers, candles, and leave out offerings of honey cakes, dates, apples, sandalwood and silver bowls full of moon water.

Some use mirrors, instead of water, a symbolic gesture to ancestors upon lake Nemi, where the ancient celebrations took place.

In the evening on the 13th, I only wash my hair with collected moon water, I do not live near a river now. Plus I think I'd shock the neighbours in all fairness.

It's very invigorating to wash your hair outside with cold water. Sitting on the grass as I do under the moon. You feel powerful afterwards. Blessed and full of energy.

I have an old besom that belonged to my grandmother. Hand held. I dip the brush in the water and bless the house, it's just something I have always done. And a remembrance to my grandma who first introduced me to the power of the moon and Diana. 

And this is the thing, it's personal to you how you celebrate festivals.

Bring light to our goddess
the mother of the moon
For huntress of the wild
Shine light within the gloom

In the pool of sacred waters

We will wash and dress our hair

And celebrate the goddess
At the Nemoralia fayre 

Distant shore

 I've actually had this dream all my life.

I've dreamt of waters splashing 

upon a distant shore

Of mountain rocks and hillside

and paths well trod with lore

I've heard the sound of music 

I've seen it as a sign

A figure sits upon a boat,

and says it's not my time

I've dreamt of rocks in water

Seen meadows stretched for miles

I've walked upon their trodden paths

Climbed over ancient stiles 

I've sat upon a green grass hill

And seen the vast shoreline

The figure sits upon a boat 

and says it's not my time

One day I'll dream forever 

One day I'll feel that breeze 

One day I'll hear the the water

And touch the earth and trees

One day the figure on the boat

will take me by my hand

and sail me on a journey 

to the blessed Summerlands.

To a friend - song

 Give yourself a break my dear

You've had an awful year

You have to right to anger

You have the right to tear

Give yourself a welcome hug

You have been strong too long

Of course you'll feel that hope is gone

But hopes is a bird song

A Robin sings of loss and joy

All seasons does it sing

Reminding us there's always hope

for new beginnings bring

So give yourself a break my dear

For soon you'll will hear the song

And hope will come right back to you

Just where it does belong.

Moon sisters

 Blessed be the moon sisters.

The goddess lunar we

Under skies of memories 

We simply learn to be

We celebrate all ages

From maiden, mother, crone

True matriarchs together 

No womanhood alone

No shame upon our bodies

As nature, we explore

And offer up the knowledge 

When our change is more

Plastic candles

 I never got the notion to show my true devotion 

Buying me those plastic candles with a little plastic Light 
You teach your pagan sprogs that a lit flame causes fog
and possibly the ouch you get from learning from your fright

Oh dear my sleeves on fire, is a typical require

from a pagan or a Wiccan tending candles for a spell
But you can't be fantastic, if your candle flame is plastic
So I'm guessing that the magic won't be any good as well

So maybe an invention is a super intervention 
to create a special candle that looks real but it is not
It look and feels authentic with a hint of panhellenic 
For the candles make of plastic but the flame is rather hot

A nod to the suggesters, yes the wonderful ancestors 
Imagine how'd their fair with types of  plastic minerals
I may be slightly musing with a hint of tad amusing
But lacking proper flames would work less in those brazen bulls

Passing of a wonderful friend

 Dear Freda, what can I say

Now you're gone and passed away

Now at peace but always a friend

Fighting, laughing till the end

Loved by so many

For I'll have no more help to write

You've been my muse, my inner sight.

So if I my writing goes askew

You know who I will blame, yes you

What laughs we had

I'll weep some tears, I'd light a flame

And tell my goddess of your name

And ask her now to guide you well

Through forests full of sweet bluebells

For freda. I'm going to miss you

Modern witch

 A modern witch should never wear black
A terrible time for cliches
Always wear bright colours like green
your choice of the hue should amaze

Having a raven is really unhip
and a witch should be of modern age
Update this ridiculous idea of cool
With a Budgerigar in a cage
 
 Pagan type names should never be given
to a pet that meows or does bark
A typical name like Sir fluffy Bert winkles
Is much better to shout after dark

A sturdy broom is so old fashioned
Do upgrade with a vacuum dear girl
A Dyson does have a comfortable seat
a joy when you go for a whirl 

A cauldron is so out of season
A microwave oven is great
No waiting around for the potion to brew
A timer is now your new mate. 

Crones moot

Oh dear what can I see?
 under the ancient English oak tree
 Chanting and dancing and singing off key
The Coven of crones have a moot

Beltane is the time to be very merry
there's beer and mead and some sort of sherry
Most of the group are dressed up as faeries
If faeries looked wingless and drunk

By half passed nine, they've run out of beer
one whips off her top and ladies all cheer
"I haven't been skyclad for oh so many years"
she runs with her arms in the air

At Eleven o'clock someone called the police
The neighbour hood watch, want nothing but peace
The police have asked can shenanigans cease?
 The coven of crones all shout nope

The naked lady has an emotion of ire
She really does not want to retire
She trips up her boob and into the fire
And the Ambulance have to be called.

Oh dear what can the matter be?
Coven of crones are in now A and E
A slighly singed boob is a slight tragedy 
but it really was a good laugh

Hello world

 It's been a while since I've written anything but just a note to say due to health. Unfortunately my mind is less rhyme and more annoying typo.

I'm hoping to do my usual national poetry but only for myself.

But once again unfortunately many of my fans have left the social media set up, I don't have any other platform to share work on.

And with the thought of impending doom I've lost all touch.

I tend to write more in the darker month, so who knows? I may be back with a vengeance.

Much love you you all

Maiden she

 The maiden seems so innocent 

A silent goddess she

not as silent in the earth

Her voice loud singing tunes of growth

Lyrics bring life 

Wake, wake, she sings

Wake, wake joy she brings

Wake, wake, new love

Sleeping winter, waking spring

Green, yellow, pink hue

Painted eggs and maypole fires

First blood, first ache

She's the excitement of love

The first touch. Exchanging hearts

Wake,wake, she sings 

Wake, wake, joy she brings

Wake, wake, Menarche 

Sleeping winter, waking spring.

Maiden

 Blessed be the maiden 

the virgin born of spring

The time of winters passing

The joy of birds that sing

She wakes at last from slumber 

And brings with her fresh shoots

Of crocuses and snowdrops

that slept beneath her roots

A time of new beginnings 

Of birds sat on their nests

Of nature now in season

The babies at the breast

Of painted eggs and blossoms 

the sacred maiden reigns 

The maiden is Imbolc 

Ostara and beltane

Freedom to a point

Dedicated to the most wonderful Freyeesha hall.

When she has the urge to dance in her apple catchers around the fire.

 Oh the pictures online we see today

With a pagan audience in mind

All with nature running free

With a spiritual cleanse of your mind

Bare foot they dance, their hair is down

The song is 'witch and proud'

Yes one we are with big round moon

they sing it proud and loud

But really we are not like that

We've less bare foot, more shoes

I'm sure we like the thought of it

without the chance to bruise 

It's okay dancing in the woods at night

Round a fire burning flame

But sitting down in comfort-

round a candle is just the same *

We are still spiritually out there

We all think we could all run free

But most of us can't do with the faff

I'd rather be home drinking tea.   

*. It is, shut up

Maiden

Maiden I call you

Bring us soon spring

Whisper your magic deep within

Maiden I call you

Wake from the earth

Pastels and green show rebirth

Maiden I call you

Your joy manifests 

Birds are now singing and building their nests

The yule cat

 

Around the yulemass season

A feline wanders near

Obsessed with new attire 

at this time of the year

No gifts of knitted items?

Or clothes that are brand new?

You'll make this kitty angry 

Oh yes he'll have a chew

A gift that had real giving

and practical in style

To keep you warm all winter

A present so worthwhile 

But now in times of Yulemass

The gifts of clothes are more

Unhelpful plus more tacky

and sometimes can cause stress

A waste of good intentions

As seen on goggle - box

Worn once, not out! Gawd blimey

With your matching tinsel socks

So please don't gift me jumpers

Or socks in style of tat

I'd rather be stark naked

and be eaten by the cat.