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 naked 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 A&E
A slightly 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.

The yule lads

 

Can you hear them running

Between the white dryad

Tis winter time for mischief

The time for those yule lads

But Grýla, she is reeling

Her lads, less troublesome

In modern days of living

their antics equal none

She asked of me a favour 

Dear Audrey, have you time?

To update all my yule lads

with something more refined

The 13 yule lads of today.

Need a modern twist

Now I'll introduce them all

In this modern list

 Furclodder, wakes pets at stupid hours

Slungbung, blocks drains in bathroom showers

Batteries gone? Blame Dura'cell

Multiplugger stole the plugs as well.

Odd'desock, steals every last sock

Snapperwrapper, replaces chocolates with rocks

Redge'veg, steals everything but sprouts

At three in the morning,  the Rando'lad shouts

Slyply, nicks loo rolls and leaves one sheet

PurplePercy, steals the purple in the quality street

Nessdepresso steals coffee, and cocoa and tea

Sly'wifi. Changes passwords to those you can't see

Dangleping nicks Chrismas balls

Now who you'll blame when the yule lads call

Message

 I'll be back around crimbo 

Dear Cousin

 Dear cousin Chris.

I will be back posting soon. Thanks for following me

language

 Our mother tongue of English

Came here part refugee

This linguistic evolution

Was bought from over sea

A dash of words Germanic

Then Romans bought a few

A run of Norse invader

and Arabic numbers too

Be proud of speaking English 

It's changed historically 

Our words are multicultural 

As it should always be

 I do not know what to say

When a loved ones passed away

I do not know what to do

But know I'm always here for you

I do not know how trace

The falling tears upon your face

I do not know now what to do

But know I'm always here for you.

Physiotherapists

Twas a hot sorta day and the building felt cool

The writer of dates lurked aloft on her stool

With a bouquet of flowers and a bowl full of sweets

The bait of enticement while you wait on the seats 

But the name will be called and the dread and the fear

Of the physiotherapist who waits in the rear

Can I smell Patchouli?

Blurb

 I'm still here. Just not writing because it's far to hot to write.

Have you tried?

 Chronic illness and depression is bad enough without unhelpful hints for folk. 

After living on a wonderful forum learning about what folks say about hearing you are chronicly ill, they offer up the-

- Have you tried...

Yoga, stretching, 

any sort of exercise 

Breathing, yawning

border lining exorcise

Gain weight, lose weight 

Herbal complementary 

Just talk about your certain pain

with traumatizing therapy

Clean air, no air

Amble in countryside

Hug trees, and bees

Keep away from pesticide 

New age, no age

Meditation isn't far

The answer to your problems

sticking pretty crystals down your bra

Thinking, praying

Swearing and profanity 

No God? Why not?

that borders on insanity 

Thinking, winking

 sure it isn't karma?

The reason for my problems

I will ask the Dalai Lama

New pills, no pills

Money spent on clinical

Gas lit, no shit

Doctors being cynical 

New pain, old pain

Saying have you tried?

Yes I think I really have

But I really am quite tired