AIRMED

Destiny's whispers on the wind I hear,
as cosmic waves blissful swell,
veils of rapture nightingales 'round me weave,
distant clouds their sorrows tell.

The breath of life am I, vessel and fount,
the elements, truth and time,
Nature's will I fulfil, as she contrives
varied tapestries sublime.

Birds and beasts to my favoured threshold flock,
winged blossoms my gown adorn,
faeries, elves, gifts of fragrant heather bring
ere dawn of each holy morn.

Solemn divination my sacred quest,
my spirit roams earth and sky,
with prowess of second sight was I blessed,
for life's path to prophesy.

Runes I need not, crystal balls I eschew,
my sibyl's eye warns and guides,
for emanations of the light man dons
his temporal fate decide.

Man's rainbows I see, his mantled darkness,
misty hues his course foretell,
the pure of soul Springtide's bright palette crowns,
the wicked Love's boon repel.

No witch am I, nor mere fortune teller,
for our Goddess am I named,
her healing hands she on this child conferred,
for to mend the ill and maimed.

Sole to me herbs their salving powers reveal,
glad mission in my ears speak,
O'er hills, thro' vales and deep woods I wander,
valerian and jasmine seek.

Potions I brew in beauteous Airmed's light,
to her arcane skills aspire,
for man's body and spirit to restore,
for weary hearts to inspire.

The Infinite's counsel I faithful heed,
Creation's rhythms echo,
the despondent and rueful I enjoin
noble, wholesome seeds to sow.

Hymns of praise I chant for bounteous harvests
this auspicious Samhain Eve,
visions of promise by the holy fire
with humble tribute receive.

And with gratitude shall we toil and hope 
for golden days yet to come,
each one a string on hallowed Mother's lute,
in harmony shall e'er thrum.

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: www.pinterest.com

Image: thecelticjourney.wordpress.com

THE WHITE WITCH OF LOCH CEANN GAINIMH

Hallowmas Eve, this Great Sabbat night,
the Otherworld's gates open wide;
Samhain's altar I gladsome compose,
for spells to cast 'neath Heaven's bride.

Wood vetch, meadowsweet, the shrine bedeck,
as wreaths of blackberry and pear,
with fruit of Avalon for to please
Goddess Niamh of the Golden Hair.

Her grace weary Nature shall renew,
all chasten who our creed transgress;
the gods man with their holy light
this Calends of Winter shall bless.

For darkness draws near as the year wanes,
veils 'pon somnolent lands descend;
'pon shores of the loch, the spirits speak,
my runes to sacred realms ascend.

Blooms in hair, in ritual circle,
with departed kinfolk I stand,
healing verse chant for their pain to ease,
their tome of arcane arts in hand.

My verbal charms to Mother I sing,
incantations joyous bestow,
with Creation's spirits fair commune,
by the propitious pyre's glow.

Sigils I inscribe, worshipful kneel
'mid flames in faerie rings of light;
Earth, Air, Wind, Fire and Void I invoke
for gifts of wisdom and insight.

Ere midnight strikes, the Aos Si appear,
gifts of milky heather they bring,
visions of the Well of Segais grant,
whence seven streams of knowledge spring.

Fey white bells they bid me 'pon Earth cast,
for the newborn Year to anoint,
fields with their purple kin to bestrew,
at mighty Aries' first point.

No wagon I possess, nor steed spry,
sole the wind I ride in pale cloak;
turtledoves my airy carriage lead,
their pinions silver moonbeams yoke.

Morgaine her black mount bestrides abroad,
her shadow shrouds the starry sky;
the pure of heart its blight shall be spared,
such shall the Cailleach ne'er deny.

And the Wheel of the Year onward turns,
birth and death 'pon its brink entwine;
'neath snowy blankets Mother shall rest,
her slumber we shall not repine.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: deviantart.com

Image: a-wiccan-house.blogspot.com

SAMHAIN 

Harvest's end we joyous proclaim,
our lays great vales pervade,
the Gods and Nature reverence,
'pon drowsing ground cascade.

Cattle we lead from pastures bare
into their Autumn folds,
as proud elms gilded fragments cast
'pon frosted, misty wolds.

Thresh-ed grain stowed, our herds we cull,
for now the freeze descends;
"Bless these who die, that we may thrive
till hiemal season ends."

On Winter's hinge, late in the year,
this time of spells and dread,
demons, faeries and souls long gone
shall 'mong the living tread.

Time this bless-ed day still shall be
when past and present meet,
for veils betwixt the twain shall thin,
as forbears their kin greet.

Samhain Eve by fir's we gather,
for darkness to dispel;
candle lanterns at windows set
evil spirits repel.

From Summer dwellings as they rove
to barrows o'er the leas,
with feasts of cream and berries plump
the Aos Si we appease.

Masks we don and guises ghastly,
for spectres to confound,
sigils sacred 'pon holy sidhes
in the late gloam surround.

Blooms we lay, soul cake aplenty,
oblations manifold,
devotions chant for seeds new sown
in hopes they may yield gold.

Of silent suppers we partake
'mong our departed dears,
one gaze 'pon absent forms would bring
misfortune o'er the years.

Tales in fond remembrance we tell
of our ancestors brave,
for this blessing of life give thanks
to kinsmen in the grave.

Flames we tote 'round homestead
and farm
'neath silver studded dome,
due west a burning light we place,
for to guide the dead home.

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: gratitude-grace-growth.blogspot.com

LIGHT

Night's commiserations merge
with the vast unseen.
Her dying embers drizzle opals
upon thirsty leaves,
for dawn's stifling splendour
blinds, oppresses, flays.

Venerations, condolences, all
spoken in unknown tongues,
retreat, fearful of day's illusions,
of power's utterances, 
of victory marches of brute force.

Light shirks the day
that would wilfully embrace
Dark.

The burden of your message
escapes me, father. You speak
of flesh to one who has only ever
been skin and bone.

You wish for my spectral heart
to beat? Could you
constrain time and command it,
bid it do your will?

Your hands tremble, your voice
quavers, as you enunciate
hope and redemption, mere words
your truthless tones besmirch.

Your light is your chosen prison,
a Fata Morgana above your
bleakness, condemning you to a
thousand deaths in life.

Yes, I live and breathe and bleed
in your dark, but I see and speak
in the Light.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: MEDITATION
Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: William-Adolphe Bouguereau

TANGO

Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow, where
the cadence leads, she must follow.

Syncopated rhythms swivel and turn
her across wide open spaces,
through ruins, over bridges, ramparts.

Fractured melodies slam her into
stone walls, hurl her mortal form 

through downy clouds into silver webs
of restoring moonglow. 

In the open embrace of quicksilver 

amorphousness, she stumbles, 

as Time's metronome skips a beat, 

weeps through staccato
footwork, breathes in the calm of long,
elegant steps, revels in the
soothing comfort of repetitive phrases.

Her rage interlaces complex
figures, as she defies capricious Fate.

With loathing and love she
gazes into the ancient eyes of her ever
unyielding partner; this force
that shatters and restores, pauperises
and enriches, maims and mends,
this force that fuses her imploding form,
this wilful proselytiser, 
this Life.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: (Screenshot - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2nut8Jo2Sw) 

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EARTHSONG

Of Love and Radiance was I born,
ward of celestial eye,
myriad fair silhouettes I don,
dearest of Fate am I.

Great mountains, vales and fecund plains,
deserts and oceans blue,
my beauteous countenance reveal,
as blooms of every hue.

From my deep womb all life springs forth,
my soul holds each first cry,
spruce, elm and oak my wisdom speak
to swallows in the sky.

In cheerful hearts my spirit glows,
in infants' smiles delights,
ever laments man's brutish ways,
as his own blood he blights.

"You are the wind, the trees and earth,
as every bird and beast,
each form and breath to me returns 
at close of fleeting feasts."

"My blood effuses from your wounds,
your kindred's tears you weep,
larks echo your triumphant song,
the seas your sorrows keep."

"Wealth you accrue, this vastness reave,
my fragile depths you cleave,
yet hope its strains in my heart thrums,
may Light grant all reprieve."

Mere motes, thro' starlit time we rove,
'long paths our forebears trod,
the blessed beat of Heaven's drum
our steps shall guide to God.

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: REBIRTH OF GAEA
Source: magoism.net
Artist: Jesse Newman

WINDSONG

My formless hands shape land and sea,
blooms' sweet breath I bear o'er the lea,
my fragrance sings the songs man seeks,
blithesome the unspeakable speaks.

Tales I tell of great rivers' dreams,
of forests' sorrows, silver streams,
of lost lands 'cross oceans of time
and feathered clouds in sylvan climes.

The blessing am I in your sails,
minstrel and comrade on your trails,
thro' Summer's warmth and Winter's chill
my tunes ring, e'en tho' I be still.

Roses to their Mother I bend,
butterflies and aves swiftness lend,
caresses lavish 'pon lush fields,
to my whims the lacy clock yields.

Weight of life glides o'er my lightness,
'pon graves I strew petalled brightness,
come Autumn, leaves shake from the oaks,
Earth deck with myriad red-gold cloaks.

Nights, I tell of my woes to stars,
their brittle sparkle heals my scars,
their argent lays my strength restore,
for my airs to chant evermore.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: BOREAS
Source: theredlist.com
Artist: John William Waterhouse

INCERTITUDE

Here we gather, embattled spirits all,
where no laws hold sway.

Barbed words cleave an arch through 
this viscid blackness;

under their breath anguish kindles, its 
phantom glow trickles

through this yielding grey amassment,
so strangely soothing.

This light is my subject, my substance,
it's syrupy softness my

force and fuel. How its flush entrances!
How it brandishes its

beauty, sculpts my formlessness, strikes
root and flourishes!

A bitter draught I quaff, loath to break the
revels of imps dancing

about flaming petals, wraiths of hope and
faith tumbling in midair

through the half light. I stand alone, sister,
at our wake, children

the Sun forsook, my slain dreams wrapped
in silk, sigil of trespass,

in a casket beside yours, laid in a grave far
from this life, 
from Incertitude. 

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: www.twitter.com

SONG OF THE ROSE

Angels' dreams my petals fashioned,
their hopes my spiral formed;
in earth's dark depths the sun I craved,
tho' love maternal warmed.

Thro' summer's branches soft I crept
to view his radiant face;
o'er gilded light I gladsome danced
in zephyr's warm embrace. 

Echoes I heard from climes unknown
of laughter and dismay;
for aeolian streams our spirits bind,
hearts sing the selfsame lay.

My silken beauty all acclaimed,
my perfume they imbibed,
enraptured my soul took to them,
fair odes to me inscribed.

Erelong did my sweet fragrance fade,
my satin lustre waned;
a mistral my form laid to waste, 
for Nature so ordained.

Duly did I to dust return,
to mother's bosom dear;
here I bide, in the Great Below,
my light in man's eyes near.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: HYMN TO THE ROSE
Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: John Duncan

LOVEDOM 

Winged whispers skim o'er
a refulgent stairway,
descend into my soul's dim
wasteland,
holding fast to un-being.


Violet voices from waking
dreams disperse
crepuscular shrouds,
these beloved vestments
of my purgatory
bequeathed me at birth.


Spectral witnesses,
compatriots of my despair,
powerless to stay
slaying hands,
expunge curses that were
my swaddling clothes,
unbind shackles that were
my sole earthly adornment.


Gifts they bestow, of wings,
of memories of roses,
Spring skies and
bruised knees,
floating vignettes of the
woman I never grew into
smiling at her reflection
in a bird bath.


I surrender the reins so long
tethered to dreams,
to illusions, to limbo,
 gliding into salvation,
into being,
into Love's own realm, 
into Lovedom...

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: THE GOLDEN LADDER
Source: www.liveinternet.ru
Artist: Louis Janmot

OCTOBER MOON 

Prickled vines Autumn's last jewels stud,
cold, pallid circlets upon purple heads;
in their veins beats Summer's scented blood,
as a silvern chill the chestnut air threads.

Out of tenebrous woods, darkness creeps,
deepest indigo tints his nighttime lair,
misted breeze o'er pale blue daisies weeps,
as her eyes rain drops of blackest despair.

Years ago this day, she lay abed,
as harvest's songs echoed thro' wood and dell;
wild blackberry bushes seeped rich red,
as her newborn's cry rang its own death knell.

His face she glimpsed in the bright moonlight,
ere this bud of shame they pitiless crushed;
from her arms was he torn with much spite,
her beseeching cries they reproachful hushed.

Beneath wild bramble roots they laid him,
Earth took to her this child of mortal sin;
nor memory nor grief could e'er dim,
Michael bides in her heart, her dearest kin. 

Thenceforth, every Old Michaelmas day,
when Lucifer brambles trampled and smote,
she spies, tho' now she is blind and grey,
a ghost of a moon in her void afloat.

© 2014 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: CLAIRE DE LUNE
source: www.pinterest.com
Artist: Henri-Joseph Harpignies