Winter’s Price

Winter Crone

Bitter tears unspilled scorch the throat
Frozen anger burning, making me choke
Feeling bitter, cold, uncaring, tough,
I want to run, hide, give up – had enough.
Oh Child, child, can you not see –
Winter’s Beginning has a grasp upon thee
What you have been given in Summer and Spring
Has it’s Price that I am now exacting
The Crone whispers with Her knowing smile
Every year I forget Her Price for a while
She is the balance of Light and Energy,
Yet always Her Winter resides deep within me.
You are my Daughter; I am in your bones,
Your Heart and Mind thrum with the tones
Of Spring’s gentle opening, Summer’s passion;
Autumn’s subtle slowing – and Winter’s retraction.
Cold; darness; ice-
Winter’s call to pay the Gifts of Summer’s price
Like the roots in the earth digging deep
And creatures obeying the call for hibernation sleep-
You too feel the need to withdraw and retract:
To retreat from the world and from it exact
The price it pays for your love that you gave
No more will you want any souls to save
Now is the time for me to pay Winter’s Price:
Too much energy expended means I’m burning ice
No more energy to give – no more to restore
Like sap freezing in every tree’s core.
I am Winter; I am The Crone,
I am the dark night, cold, alone
Ask nothing of me for I am not for giving
I am the lesson learned of the pain of Living.
Know well the Price she asks is worth the paying;
She is not cruel but wise and knowing –
For we must take back energy to our own selves
Rest, think, contemplate for our Future’s wealth.
Yet ’tis hard for me as an emotional being,
I feel the Love I kindled leaving
As Winter’s depth bites at my mind
Just as the moon affects the sea’s tides.




Hallowe’en, Samhain, the Witches’ New Year,

The veil ‘tween worlds almost dissolved,

Eerie Night fills some with trepidation and fear

But this time may see Mystery and Wisdom unfold.

In celebration do we honour our dead;

And warmly greet blessed ancestors,

Cast the circle that no ghoul may within tread,

And seek vision in water’d cauldron a-Wester.*1

Old Crone, the wise-woman now holds the throne,

She of darkness, death and rebirth –

She is the Goddess of all that is unknown

As Nature herself withdraws down to earth.

Old Man, Lord of Shadows reigns

The Psycho-pomp Master of the ways*2

Ready to lead us through ethereal planes,

If we would but hearken to that which he says.

Dark and fearsome may this god and goddess seem

Yet the balance of Summer and Light and Abundance

They are the Holders of the spirit world unseen

Aiding us through the Void, in wisdom’s silence.

Hallowe’en, Samhain, the Witches’ New Year,

We honour and celebrate those gone-before,

Asking for wisdom and knowledge – truth sincere

With ritual and respect, following ye olde lore.

Lord of Shadows; Winter god

Lord of Shadows; Winter god

Blessed Samhain!

*(1) – “And seek vision in water’d cauldron a-Wester.”
This refers to the cast circle, where as part of the ritual, the cauldron is filled with water, placed in the West position, and is used as a scrying tool, looking for a vision within the water.
*(2) – “The Psycho-pomp Master of the ways”
Psycho-pomp is something or someone who guides the soul of those recently passed away to their resting place/the next world. They help the soul through the ‘limbo-world’, the place between life gone and the next appropriate world.

Fallen Angel

This was a poem I posted a while back, and one I wrote over 10 years ago. It is still my favourite. The other day Meme kindly posted her song of my most popular poem, ‘The Blogger’s Prayer’. Today I am posting my personal favourite poem. 


Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel

Fallen Angel, cry you not:

Fate is fickle, Sin is not.

Devil-talk with honeyed words,

Homo-sapiens often turned

No thought to reason

Instinct over-ridden

For dream realisation –

Creation of your vision.

All for just one tiny lie

To society, yourself, and try

To say it’s not so bad,

The fuss’ll die I’m just a fad

There’ll be many more after me –

I’m not the only one who ate the apple from the tree.

From legs to serpent we downward slide

And falling ever since cannot be denied.

So God is gone from prayer and hope,

Society keeps pushing you to cope

Then you snap, start to rebel

And the devil comes sniffing ready to tell

How best to get back at those who’ve annoyed

Before you know it the devil’s new toy

And the light has faded – you’re all alone-

Old, angry, bitter, no way to atone

So in limbo you waver, caught by sin,

Reaching for Heaven with no way in.

Purgatory, a way unfurled –

That’s why I’m here; today, in this world.



I Travel The Midnight Road

Midnight Rainbow3

I’ve seen a rainbow at Midnight,

I’ve glided in darkness ‘tween the starlight,

I know the light is over the horizon

But the Midnight Road I have chosen


I must walk my own abiding path

To find the depth of my love and my laugh;

How bright truly are my dreams?

How dark, how dark, can I really be?


This is the course that I must travel

To Face my Demons and unravel

The fear that always resides within

And find my strength find my love find where I begin


I walk through darkness with a bright side;

And come to Light with darkness always behind;

Now I know now I’ve seen my own eternity

Now I’ve seen now I know I’m absolutely free


I’ve walked through Heaven and walked through Hell

There’s nothing left that I can tell

I have seen I have seen the whole of me

So here I stand here I stand… with no apology.


This reads as a poem, but it came to me as a song. I can’t put the tune in your head, unfortunately, yet it is haunting mine! As ever with words that come to me as song, I cannot disentangle it to read just the words, as they would appear as a poem.

I hope that you can read the meaning of the words, rather than the ‘poetic voice’. Or ‘with’ the poetic voice. It was the words, after all, that wanted to be written down! I would apologise for the confusion… but as the last line says…!

Blessings be.

On Culling

Cull them! Cull them! Cull them! The cry is raised                                                                    


Badger (Photo credit: Fred Dawson)

It’s the only solution! I hear the television say

A rational debate, then I shall watch listening impartially

After all a creature of reason looks at all sides and that is me…

Yet my jaw drops and I blink in absolute disbelief

Not one flicker of irony passes in their features nor through their lips

These creatures are invading urban areas, our territory

They are a menace and a danger to all of society

They breed and breed there’s too many of them

And the diseases they carry we really need to stem

They have no natural predators so we have to step in

If we don’t then they will destroy everything                                                                                                       


deer (Photo credit: kkirugi)

The only solution is logical I think you’ll agree

 And that is to kill them – of course humanely.


Yes so different aren’t we, from these natural critters,

The human population that so uncaringly litters

Attracting these evolving adaptable beasts

Who have learnt to take advantage of our unwanted feasts

The foxes, deer and badgers are a wonder, I think

Learning to survive in our polluted stink

The problem as I see it is not them encroaching on us                                                                                    


fox (Photo credit: digitalprimate)


Ask yourselves really, WHO was here first?

It’s immoral to cull humans – shudder at the very thought!

But animals, oh well, they’re ignorant and just sport!

Many people will have different opinions I am sure,

My goal here is not to inflame but rather to not ignore

The important issues to which we can be so willingly blind

A poet, in fact, has a duty to speak and express their heart and mind

And mine say to me: Killing is killing, the animal is just as dead

And all these excuse you give – can be applied to the human race instead.

A Child’s Wonder…

The Mystery of the world

The Mystery of the world

I created this picture for a facebook update,

But the story behind it I shall now relate:

That’s my boy, scampering carefree

Nothing but joy in him as you can see

Running off and running around,

No fear as he journeys in woodland abound.

My Running Wolf at the head of his pack

Experiencing, just experiencing, only that

As he touches each tree and tramps the ground

And laughs, looking at us, with eyes so round

Loving this freedom, this new discovery

Of life, of wonder of new things he can see.

When did we, these adult lives

Lose that wonder, that beauty of surprise?

When did we stop seeing Life all around

As nothing but a child’s Playground? 


For A Boy I Never Knew (A Tragedy)

English: Logo for the National Society for the...

English: Logo for the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children (NSPCC) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Until a few days ago I never knew you,

Not your name, your face, nor that you existed

Now you, so beautiful, so small,

You are etched in my heart leaving a scar

Your face on the t.v. as I turn on the news

A fragile smile – how could you raise a smile at all?

–          The broadcaster telling me your tragic tale

Starved, locked up, beaten and abused

All by the very people who should have nurtured

Protected and loved you

Always children suffer cruelty

All over the world you see pain and hurt

Politics and war and famine and disease

But somehow your story is even worse

Your own mother, your step-father, this was personal

I sigh and mutter over those poor other children

But for you no sound, silence reigns

As I try with no success to understand

How a mother could do this – a mother! No!

No woman like that earns that special title

Silence in me but my heart singing loud

Praying, weeping, wanting to take you in my arms

Wanting to protect you to love you to say you’re safe now

But I never knew you existed

Until I heard you were dead.

All I can do is pray for your soul

And wish you the peace in death

You never had a chance at in Life.


Rest in Peace Daniel P. I am sorry xxx


For those not from Britain, and those who have not heard the news – Daniel P was a 4 year old boy who suffered terrible abuse at the hands of his mother and step-father. No teachers, doctors or social services stepped in to save him. He died from blows – yes blowS to the head. He weighed the same as an 18 month old.

I can’t save him. My anger, sadness and shame feel like a physical thing.

This – this writing and sharing his tragedy and awareness, is all that I can do.

The poem isn’t perfect – because it comes from the heart. I have not, I will not, sit and ‘craft it’, that seems wrong somehow. I am writing in total honesty, for Daniel P. 

When Children Bring Joy


My wonderful children

My wonderful children


Watching, observing, smiling
My daughter in joy dancing
My son grinning choo-chooing
Ballet and tap and Rainbows group
So in the moment a 5-year old’s cheery mood
Trains and cars and birdies and slides
A nearly two year old laughing, running by
And in those moments, then I realise
That their joy is mine, my happiness rising high
The bleakness, the stress, the anxiety forgotten
In those snapshots of children’s fun frolicking
They drive me crazy, I can snarl and snap
Running around doing ten things off the bat
But then I see them together in giggles
Brother and sister broom-brooming on the trike with pedals
And with abandon I laugh my heart full to bursting
I am a proud mother and I thank my children for turning
A dreary day into something much greater –
Learning how to play and let nothing, nothing else matter.

For Sophie & Devyn xx

Weathering the Inner Storm

Storm spiritClouds upon clouds upon clouds:
A storm gathering in my mind, a covering shroud-
Layer over layer closing, stifling, suffocating
Tension crackling, building, waiting…
Thunder rolled and the lightening Snapped!
A downpour caught me – I was trapped,
No shelter to seek inside my own head–
I had to weather this Spiritual deluge instead.
Drowning sinking senses overwhelmed,
A family grabbing, holding supporting my world
Lifting me carrying me away from the storm,
Helping me piece together what was broken and torn.
A spirit rises stronger than she who walked before;
A spirit determined to walk through closed doors,
Not the same woman as she who walked before,
The Spirit has whispered she is so much more.
No more storm, though the rumblings still heard
Yet the Sun has come out and the song of a distant bird
Trills sweet notes of a promise of better days-
Hope and sweet life, the Future awaits
With a goal and a purpose and a drive to create-
This Soul sickness has taught me that NOW is never too late.

I have been through a bit of a rough time lately and this poem is a reflection of how it has felt. All I can say is, thank goodness for supportive, loving family and friends. If you are curious about the reference to ‘Soul sickness’, please see the article below, which the blog post on my other site ‘The Eagle and the Serpent’.
Blessings be.


I originally posted this early on in my blogging career, however I thought I would give it another outing, as this is one of my favourite pieces. It was inspired after reading a particular book (see first line), and it came out of nowhere, written free-flow and free-style. Happy weekend everyone. Enjoy!


kool.JPG (Photo credit: muteboy)

Tom Wolfe, author and fellow adventurer of The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test has broken my chains; unburdened my
Brain; lit a candle to burn the flame of
Creative action, words to flow, inspiration to
Kindle and grow. Never in months, possibly years have I felt so natural so
Free a script fountain from my mind, unstifled by thought just
Blind writing of what cometh Truth, what
Stream of consciousness immediately put to paper never
stopping for a secondary thought as long as I could, as long as
I ought. Joyous, happy days to finally find a
Serendipitous solution to my suffocated mind. Imagination rides on a
Free-wheeling chariot whose wheels large and
Bold carry on turning with no conscious steering, no
Pointed direction, just a natural course and solid axles
Bearing no plans but The plan of untutored writing – no,
Writing comes from the brain, of instead Elemental making of
Sentences, sense or non-sense but it holds, it
Grabs, just the same, better than any carefully
Laid Plan laboriously dutifully turned over and over keep riding
That Chariot whose wheels are the dower to
Perpetual storming, motion, mood keep driving on in your
Own created groove for no horses no whip no pilot can
Stop the freedom that comes within when the itch
Unfettered drops
Lightening-bolt like from some outside energy source
Direct to the mind ready to receive and
Yes Eureka! Glory be! Hallelujah! Amen! So mote it be! Receptivity, an
Unfilled cup, continue to pour in, overflow, fill
Up, overflow, keep pouring, synaptic nerves stretching
Yawning, waking waking up from the tedium, monotonous
Boredom to which they were stuck now released, unmade from the
Mulching, damp, donkey grey stage upon which they were
Set. The body and mind within found the trapdoor
Yet to be flung open wide, like first feeling Wind, Rain and
Sky. Senses burst forth, fireworks inside as the
Freedom writes itself creates itself needs no intellectual
Help to bleed its heart, the blood of love, veins tied up
Unravel, unconstricted, letting all flow pumping
In truth now not just because – existence is here, it just is,
That’s all, but because reason of living, of loving
Of being has found its mark its target the caged bird
Singing spread your wings, beautiful, fluffy feathers swell
Out your chest and let pride render your audacity to fly
Alone, confidence undiminished by every one telling you
The path previous trod must be trod
And trod again before you can possibly stop, turn, make a new
Way, be the pioneer for others to play your long-lost shadow
– No, you know the route Originality is the only
Truth to follow so fly, fly, face to the wind let all
And sundry sing sing sing their own musical tune whilst you,
Great beast off earth, dip and dive uniquely, your own natural
Dance of the wind, the clouds and streams
And colours that settle on feathers seem
Rainbow-esque but you do not care, for you cannot see them you
Just feel the warm sun share its joy with you –
At last freedom!

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