T'was the Eve Before Midwinter

'Twas The Eve of Midwinter, and all through the coven

The Witches were cooking strange things in the oven.

There were mugwart frittatas, and dragon's-blood stew

And mescaline eggnog and mandrake fondue.

There were hot mountain oysters and road-kill pate

And spotted-owl kidneys, and wombat flambe.

The circle was cast and the herbs had been smoked

In hopes that the Goddess would soon be invoked.

When out by the hot tub arose such a clatter

I jumped on my broom to see what was the matter.

And what should I see in the blackberry thorns

but a soaking wet Goddess and eight unicorns!

"I was just sitting down with my vibrating phallus

And a good book," she muttered, "You bitches are callous.

I came when you called, over all my objections,

And got lost in the woods--you give lousy directions.

You turkeys invoked me, now look at my dress

My period's late and I've got PMS."

She cursed and she muttered, she looked like a wreck

The unicorns whimpered and shat on the deck.

We gave her some weed and we got her some grub

We brought her clean towels and she soaked in the tub.

Then she rose, hot and dripping, and gave us her blessing

And jumped in her chariot, without even dressing!

"On Isis! On Eris! Oya and Astarte!

On Ishtar! Inanna! Kali and Hecate!"

We heard her exclaim as she climbed through the air

"Thank Goddess there's only eight sabbats a year!"

Blackmore's Night

I found this on Confessions of a Kitchen Witch. It was my first time hearing this group...I think I have a new favorite. Thanks, to Jennifer for sharing this. Enjoy!! )O(

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields

~ Colonel John McCrae

The Three Witches by Wm Shakespeare

Thrice, the brinded cat mewed.
Thrice, and once the hedge-pig whined.
Harpier cries ! 'Tis time!
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poisoned entrails throw:
Toad that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one. Sweltered venom, sleeping got,
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Fillet of a fenny snake
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and howlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth, boil and bubble.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witch's mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravined salt sea shark,
Root of hemlock digged i'the dark,
Liver of blaspheming jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Slivered in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-delivered by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab.
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron
For the ingredience of our cauldron.
Double, double, toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Cool it with a baboon's blood;
Then the charm is firm and good....

To Be A Witch

To be a Witch is to love & be loved.
To know everything & nothing at all.

To move amongst the stars while staying on Earth.
To change the world around you & within yourself.

Share & give while receiving all the while
To sing & dance & hold hands with the universe.

Honour the Gods, Goddesses and yourself
To do Magick, not just perform it

Be honourable, or nothing at all
To know what you feel is right & good.

To be a Witch is to harm none
To know the ways of the Old & see beyond the barriers.

To follow the Moon
To be with the Gods.
To teach & learn, acknowledge the truth

To live with the Earth
Not just on it.

~Anonymous

The Drums of Samhain

The drums of Samhain keeping time.
The gates of magic open wide.

A cauldron's blessings overflow.

The candle flames are dying low.

The witches dance the circle 'round
to chant and bring the power down.

Hecate will hear our call
to turn the summer into fall.

The magic veil is growing thin.

The Netherworld is near our own.

We'll see the sacred fire fed
while witches commune with the dead.

The winds of Autumn call our names.

The driving rhythm slowly calms.

The glowing embers we will tend
until the drums of Samhain end.

Resolution of a Witch

May I be as the one who weaves the cloth
in a forest, deep hidden.
May I sit at the work, uninterrupted.
And may I remain an outcast, if that is what it takes.
May I know the seasonal procession in my spirit and in my body,
celebrate Cross-quarters, Solstices and Equinoxes.
May each Full Moon find me looking upwards, at trees outlined on
luminous sky.
May I hold wildflowers. May I cup them in my hand.
May I then release them, unpicked,
to live on in abundance.
May my friends be of the kind who are at ease with silence.
May they and I be innocent of pretension.
May I be capable of gratitude. May I know
that I was given joy, like mother's milk.
May I know this as my dog does, in her bones and blood.
May I speak the truth about happiness and pain
in songs that sound of the scent of rosemary,
as everyday and ancient, kitchen-herb strong.
May I not incline to self-righteousness or self-pity.
May I approach the high earthworks and the stone circles?
As fox or moth,
and disturb the place no more than that.
May my gaze be direct and my hand steady.
May my door be open to those who dwell outside wealth and fame and
privilege.
May those who have never walked barefoot never find the path that
leads up to my door.
May they be lost on the labyrinthine journey.
May they turn back.
And may I sit beside the fire in Winter
and see in the glowing logs what is to come,
yet never feel the need to warn or to advise, unasked.
May I sit upon a plain wooden chair, in true contentment.
May the place where I live be as the forest.
May there be track ways where there are caves and pools and trees and
flowers, animals and birds, all known to me and revered, loved.
May my existence change the world no more nor less than the gusting of
winds, or the proud growth of trees.
For this, I go in cast-off clothes.
May I keep faith, always.
May I never find excuses for the expedient.
May I know that I have no choice, and yet still make the choice as the
song is made, in joy, and with consideration.
May I make the same choice every day, again.
When I fail, may I know forgiveness for myself.
May I dance naked, unafraid to face my own reflection.

By Rae Beth

Celtic Woman Fairies

Samhain Poetry to Get You All in the Mood!!

It is the time of burning leaves,

The crispness of the air has awakened

Memories both dark and hidden,

Memories of past feasts partaken.

I sit comfortly in this silent room

Computer keyboard beneath my fingers

Yet...my mind is never frozen here

In times past it wants to linger.

I 'see' a bonfire raging on a hilltop

With my people all gathered around

Our prayers to the Gods I shout,

Yet, in my dreams I hear not a sound.

The drums beat, the people dance

Wildness fills the autumn night.

The Other Side is so very close--

The Veil just beyond the fire light.

I reach, I feel, I almost touch...

Spirit fingers entwine with mortal

Then dawn's first light appears

And seals again the fragile portal.

I turn away from the cold ashes

Let the wildness leave my aching soul.

Another year til another Samhain...

On that night again I'll be whole.

~Elspeth Sapphire~

The Veil Is Getting Thin

As I went out walking this fall afternoon,

I heard a wisper wispering.

I heard a whisper whispering,

Upon this fine fall day...

As I went out walking this fall afternoon,

I heard a laugh a'laughing.

I heard a laugh a'laughing,

Upon this fine fall day...

I heard this whisper and I wondered,

I heard this laugh and then I knew.

The time is getting near my friends,

The time that I hold dear my friends,

The veil is getting thin my friends,

And strange things will pass through.

Happy October!!!

An Autumn Evening by Lucy Maud Montgomery



Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky
Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow
And wake among the harps of leafless trees Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.

The chilly purple air is threaded through
With silver from the rising moon afar,
And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great gold star
Above the darkening druid glens of fir
Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.

And so I wander through the shadows still,
And look and listen with a rapt delight,
Pausing again and yet again at will
To drink the elusive beauty of the night,
Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,
That with divine enchantment is brimmed up.