Saturday, 31 October 2015


Your tombstone crowns this lonely woodland, 
crested with amber this Samhain eve,
as the Past glowing dark gold through the
mists of Time. Where lie your bones, 
lionhearted spirit, you who were denied your
kinfolk's mourning, your tribe's tears and prayers,
every death ritual, the rite of passage
into the Otherworld?
The living await a divine pause, for to convene
with the departed upon sacred, dusky
borderlands this liminal season. Yet, I mourn you
with the dying light, with the setting Sun 
garbed in the living hues and fading warmth of
your endmost earthly breath. 
I would aspire to your power, to your wings, 
great warrior, as I seek the seed of inner victory,
this treasure you bequeathed me,
that your own blood bonded to my soul.
I would plumb the depths of the past
at your feet, of Earth's course the seers foretold.
I would battle with quill and ink, 
for to open minds and hearts, that we may preserve
Nature and Destiny, that Life and Truth may prevail. 
The beck sings softer, as the Portal opens; 
I hear Samhain's drums mark each sacred moment, 
Hecate's mirth resounding through the glen, 
hissing embers, seething cauldron, 
Eternity's white pinions in the ageless dark. 
I shall weep no more,
for these blessed hours are brief. 
My sorrow I give unto Her who granted it birth. 

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Thursday, 29 October 2015


You would have me speak Fortune's
decree, evince the Future
in mere words? I could not unravel
cosmic design, nor could
phrases contain that which expands 
every moment.
Nay, I would exhort you heed Nature's
prescripts, for She alone construes
the Universe's will.
The Year burns brightest ere it dies; 
Time's dark vortex swallows
its golden ashes. The torch is passed
to tomorrow, 
to you and your brethren, kindling your 
deepest spark;
by its cleansing light must you disinter
the jewels within, 
the fire of ancient words, the song of 
voices silenced, that you
might sing. These fields bled, that your
vessel might not hunger,
the Seasons yielded up their hues, 
that your souls might blossom.
The North Wind carves your names
upon the land, 
as you spin the spire and leap the flames.
Autumn leaves bear your hopes
to the Great Below,
for to illumine the Goddess' dreams.
Death brings forth new beginnings;
Winter shall birth Spring; your tears shall
water the seeds of joys to come;
naught shall remain fruitless.
Still your heart and mind, bid your spirit
listen for the divine solacing
of the Oaks, for the wisdom of
Winds and Waves, for such they imparted
to the mages.
Thus shall you learn to seek the Light. 

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Wednesday, 28 October 2015


The bonfire blazes on, drawing
tides of Memory into
its belly from earth and skies,
from winds and waters,
splashing a welter of vignettes
upon the chill night air.
Grandpa's words colour patterns
of flickering light and shade,
of voices and music, of battles
planned to the beat of
ancient drums. 
Fallen warriors rise, looking amid
the ferment upon their
blood that now courses through
my veins.
Swords and spears glow anew
with the zeal of intrepid
souls, whose march hallowed the
ground as the steps of
our spiral dance.
I hear the clash of iron, the fighter's
call to the brotherhood
for freedom, the seer's incantations
exalting the Horned God,
as all wilderness, wandering and
The stars stood still upon their path,
it is said, surveying in awe 
these spirits that shone bright as they.
Far above the hordes they
gathered, for to guard the sleep of the
living and dead, glorying in
the sublimity of Life's sacred circle.
Warriors of myriad creeds 
live and sleep beneath the selfsame
stars, as The Great Wheel
turns. Our duties and debts we ken
afresh, as the ashes
reclaim Light's eternal lore.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Tuesday, 27 October 2015


Midnight lays her hand upon
Nature's cold brow;
earth and firmament embrace.
I hold the stars and prayers of
generations in heart and hands, 
as aeons surround me.
Autumn dies, enfolded by Light;
Seasons stretch into years,
days into nights,
threads of silver and gold reaching
into the Womb that
birthed all souls. I am You, and
You are I, my departed forbears, 
planting thoughts and
words that I may harvest,
that you may live again and breathe
this Life.
Memories circle the sacred fire,
a fire that never truly ceased
burning, a forever fire amid forever
drumming and chanting,
my kin beyond its old gold light.
Spirit whispers fan the
flames of hope, renew my resolve
by the blaze's ashes.
Its warmth lingers upon the hilltop
and I sense Life within the dust,
for this vision of communion,
of eternal wholeness, 
is Samhain's blessing.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Monday, 26 October 2015


A heavier, happier air laden with
foregone smiles and tears
shelters the dry ground this morn; 
the pale grass gleams
beneath a shimmering warmth
that fearless ventures into
late Autumn's realm, defies frosty
skies, settling upon stacks
and bales of earth-stained gold.

A wisp of a whisper rustles Nature's
tawny cloak, flutes the
liquid lute, companion of day's toil
and eventide's respite.
Silver notes strike the thinning Veil,
chiming through echoes of
yesterday's laughter, of a childish lilt
sailing over the lilac hill, these
fragments from the Great Beyond.

A tendril of a touch, not of this world,
brushes my shoulders,
easing my burden, guiding labours
by day and quill by night.
Questions flow easier this Season,
for souls that attend them
wander ever nearer. My forbears of
birth, creed and spirit,
I await your wisdom and counsel.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:
Artist: Jules Breton

Sunday, 25 October 2015


Midnight's hands shall raise the Veil,
as ritual chants the New Year hail;
I shall bide with you, daughter, through Samhain night,
by the red-gold fire's bewitching light.

I shall partake of festive feasts and wine,
my beloved's hand shall rest once more by mine,
as we renew olden bonds with kindred souls,
rejoice, though unseasonable Death be our dole.

I shall ramble with you upon November's first day
across meads where Autumn's last leaves play 
beneath skies enwrapped in frost-kissed dreams, 
by streams reflecting timeless themes. 

My spirit shall rove over seeded fields,
as the fading day to twilight yields,
for there as a bairn I laughed and cried,
as maid, wife and mother much golden grain scythed.

The Goddess grant I hear bygone strains
of Harvest's gay melodies and mirthful refrains.
I would retrace my steps in the circle dance,
beneath night's silver, hiemal trance.

Time's wave shall sign the Veil's descent,
as I give thanks for the joyful day spent
amid kinfolk's love, prayer and sacred trust,
I shall return each Samhain, child, as I must.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: LA LECTURE (edited)
Artist: Leon-Augustin L'hermitte  

Wednesday, 21 October 2015


You glow as a protostar,
as the Lantern of
my childhood dreams.
Are you an Angel, 
an insight, a revelation,
a word I know not
that I seek?

Truly, you are a paragon 
of your lineage,
for you radiate the beauty
of First Light, 
of the dawn of Days,
noble, subtle, 
measureless power in its
ineffable softness.

Perhaps you are Truth's
own emissary in a
lesser guise for unworthy
eyes, bearing fragments
of the cosmic puzzle,
your intent proximity and
distant orbit Her
confounding contrivance.

Could you be my template
reality, removed from
Life's trompe l'oeil, 
its cruel chronostasis?
I perceive the tug of your 
golden thread
bound in a treaty of Light
to my within-ness.

Your aura ripples in white
silences, your vastness
fused to the 
confluence of my mind,
body and spirit,
resolute in its purpose 
to reunite the soul's
scattered memories,
to affirm its return to Life.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Michael Parks

Monday, 19 October 2015


The soul has no need of your orrery,
as it trundles through Infinity.
No soothsayer need I, nor ancient, 
arcane tablets, nor your
capricious clay gods' fragile devices. 

Crystal balls and sortilege could not
divine my earthly course,
nor unveil Fate's shape and source,
nor spae cosmic decree
to prehensile mortal eye and mind.

A mere speck could not fathom great
Providence, nor augur and 
assign redeeming ordinance. I would
seek Her design in Nature's
emblems, in the Seasons' sacred circle.

Seers of antiquity told of Destiny's leaf,
each vein, node and space
vivid, yet brief; each path leading to
luminous bourns, thence to
merge into silent repose and renewal.

Of immanent harmony in all they spoke, 
of a Light that every spirit woke,
of glad accord betwixt preordination and
will, of the soul's yearning  
to become the sacred music of the stars.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: John William Waterhouse

Friday, 16 October 2015


No ingenue is she, nor soubrette,
not April's unversed muse,
nor the Princess of June's gardens.
It is the Queen who blossoms
this golden October day amid Her
majestic, russet decay.

The monarch deferred her bloom
to the sage Season of
melting light and molten shadows,
for her lushly petalled 
adornments she intended not for 
Spring and Summer alone;
her tenderer Gold and cooler blush
she lends unto Autumn.

Her cheek she dusts with pearly fire,
upon her brow lavishes 
cupfuls of mellow aurescent shine
alchemised from blazing
bows and balmy bolts in the boreal
bitterness of a storm heralding
September's end.

"All beauty does not blossom in the
wide glare of June's Sun.
My late flower was born of silent awe,
from riper mists and hidden dew.
My spirit contemplated Creation's
sterner aspect, the Elements' wildness 
yielding to tranquil repose.
I am Nature's parting glance, as she
retreats into Earth's undercroft."

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source:

Wednesday, 14 October 2015


All of yesterday she danced her
yellow-green dance,
defiantly painting the drowsy air
with Summer's palette.
I rejoiced in her wilfulness, in her
lambent charade, as player
and witness, for she seemed to
wield sunbeams.
Verily she was a little Sun, radiant,
radiating June's warmth
and glow through Autumn's
patinated prism.

At October's feet she now lies, an
island of dying beauty,
too fragile grown to hold her own
splendour, fluttering,
slowing, scattering her iridescent
memories into the cold,
translucent glow of violet daisies, 
the entr'acte commenced 
with equanimity and art, peridot 
wings arcing towards
the seeded ground in graceful
concession to Destiny.

She ascends into a higher, greater
flight, living colours
surrendered, released from earthly
chrysalises dark and bright,
her rainbow path furled in my soul
amid a swaying, sparkling
sisterhood of marigolds and irises,
of a loveliness too brief....
I do not mourn, for the Great Wheel
turns; I, Autumn's child,
shall await, if Life so choose, further
rejoicing with Her butterflies.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: www,

Friday, 9 October 2015


Weary of empty earthly prate,
my Harlequin Star I await
of frisking flash and 
skipping gait,
anon to glide 'pon an
inky spate,
for wretched spirits to elate...

Wherefore, dear Star,
doth thy fire abate,
thy rainbow glow attenuate?
Thine argent flourish
hast thou shed,
a subfusc cape waveth
in its stead, 
this Night; thou affectest a
timorous tread,
as though slowed by some
nameless dread.

Fret not, dear Star, nor take
fright, bewail not
thy faltering flight 'cross
plains of livid, aqueous Light,
for thou seekest that
which thy soul hath seen,
each radiant stound,
the darkness between.

'Pon this wintry tryst, dear Star,
do not quail; thy name 
didst thou etch 'long this 
louring trail. Fate enfoldeth thee, 
thou shallst not fail.

© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Artist: Evelyn de Morgan