Tag Archives: Solstice

Celtic wheel, Lyric Poems, Poetry

Devotional for Litha

SummerSolstitalSunrise2015

Play Apotheosis. Copyright © 2014 Pathematica

Climbing the sacred mound,
Joined with the solemn band;
Glimpses of rising ground,
Red-hued from flickering brand;
Night-scented herbs abound,
Bruised on the mellow land;
Stumbling, with muted sound,
Gain the summit;
Gather at the
Crown …

Rumours of dawn appear
Over the distant fell;
Family and friends draw near,
Caught in the binding spell;
Skies over outlands clear,
Fanfares from songbirds swell;
Sunrise, at last, is here—
Summer solstice!
Light of heaven
Blazing down …

Blessings fall; one and all,
On this new midsummer's day.
Life's in thrall at the call
From the world of men and fey.
Skies are blue, woods are green,
Nature murmurs, as the
Fruitful goddess nurtures,
Fishes dream in the stream,
Meadows buzz and children play.

Jack in green, in his prime,
Basking on the summer lawn;
Faerie kind, marking time,
Dancing with the summer fawn.
Fields are lush, kine well-fed,
Nature's bounties falling,
Nature's heralds calling:
Hark, the thrush, overhead,
Minstrel, to the Greenwood born!

At this feast of the sun,
Linger memories of dark winters gone;
As before, so anon:
Sleepless as the ocean,
With its tides in motion,
Seasons pass—time moves on,
While the pale king sleeps in Avalon,
Solstice fires are burning,
Silver wheels are turning,
Mysteries bid the journey run.

Days that waxed now must wane—
So the Oak King must abjure his reign.
Water falls—fire's bane;
Distant drumming as the
Holly King is coming.
Tempests pass; hills remain—
So the Oak King will return again.
Dance, now, to the drummer;
Live the song of summer,
Lend your voice to earth's refrain.

GreenwoodF

————————————
Homage to JS Bach, WA Mozart,
GB Gardner, DED Valiente

An it harm none, do what you will.
Pax vobiscum

Celtic wheel, Lyric Poems, Poetry

Yule

The Holly King brings the seasons to the sleepy time of year.
Sunrise! Look to the skies—the standing stones reveal.
The miracle of the solstice comes; the Oak King will appear.
Sundown! Turn it around, upon the silver wheel.

The stone circles show the ebb and the flow;
The solstice will come and the days will grow.
Sir Robin of Derwen will strike a blow;
Sir Dreoilín of Cuillean will reel.
The Oak King is stout; his branches reach out;
His roots gather strength from the Earth without.
Sir Robin of Derwen will win the bout;
Sir Dreoilín of Cuillean will yield,
Returning the warmth to the field.

The Oak King aligns the seasons with the fruitful time of year.
Sunrise! Hark to the skies—the festive changes peal.
The Holly boughs deck the rafters as the ceilidh bands appear.
Sundown! Turn it around, beneath the silver wheel.

Though gales might blow, the yule logs glow;
The turfs on the roof keep the warmth below.
The giggling maidens adjust their bows
And tarry in innocent bliss.
The tension will grow; the berries must go;
The maidens stray under the mistletoe;
The mischievous bucks hurry to and fro
About every timorous miss,
Awaiting their chance of a kiss.

With twiddling thumbs, plough Monday comes and all the lads appear;
Old Nick, quick as a trick, makes work for idle hands.
The plough boys prepare to use their share to raise some cash for beer;
Ho lads! Put on your glads! It's time we made some plans.

The mummers strike out; they sing and they shout;
They carry the tools of the trade about;
The fool and the Bessy in guises tout;
Then off to the pub with a bow.
The Barrowby boys were full of the joys;
The burghers of Grantham endured the noise.
The banging of knockers and other ploys
Were more than the Beak would allow
From those who would follow the plough.