Old Yew, which graspest at the stones

That name the under-lying dead,

Thy fibres net the dreamless head,

Thy roots are wrapt about the bones.

~Tennyson~

The Yew

The wind has sighed upon my leaves
Through many ages passed
A sheltered place for he who grieves
Beneath my branches vast

I reach above towards the sky
`Midst ancient slabs to dwell
O touch me and you yet shall die
Beware the tolling bell

Behold my splendid aspect fixed
Against the falling sun
As there I stand, alone, betwixt
All heav`n and everyone

(Magnificent her posture be
Her shadow softly falls
Upon all those now ever free
Laid down behind stone walls)

Enfolded deep within my boughs
I`ll bear your wearied soul
To carry you, not e`er to rouse,
Then meetly deem you whole

To thus transform and so renew
All set beyond this earth
Deliver each as pure and true
And grant e`erlasting birth

Valerie Dohren ~

Welcome Spring

It was one of those March days

When the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold:

When it is summer in the light,

And winter in the shade.

~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

A Wee Irish Blessing

May you always have blue skies above your heads

Shamrocks beneath your feet.

Laughter and Joy a plenty

Kindness from all you meet.

Good friends and Kin to miss you

If you ever chance to roam.

And a path cleared by the angels themselves

To always carry you home.

Bridger P.

Sunday Poetry Quotes–Wordsworth

The birds around me hopped and played,

Their thoughts I cannot measure:--

But the least motion which they made

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

From: Lines Written in Spring

by William Wordsworth

A Blessed Samhain and New Year To All

Halloween

by Arthur Peterson

Out I went into the meadow, 
Where the moon was shining brightly, 
And the oak-tree's lengthening shadows 
On the sloping sward did lean; 
For I longed to see the goblins, 
And the dainty-footed fairies, 
And the gnomes, who dwell in caverns, 
But come forth on Halloween. 

"All the spirits, good and evil, 
Fay and pixie, witch and wizard, 
On this night will sure be stirring," 
Thought I, as I walked along; 
"And if Puck, the merry wanderer, 
Or her majesty, Titania, 
Or that Mab who teases housewives 
If their housewifery be wrong, 

Should but condescend to meet me"— 
But my thoughts took sudden parting, 
For I saw, a few feet from me, 
Standing in the moonlight there, 
A quaint, roguish little figure, 
And I knew 'twas Puck, the trickster, 
By the twinkle of his bright eyes 
Underneath his shaggy hair. 

Yet I felt no fear of Robin, 
Salutation brief he uttered, 
Laughed and touched me on the shoulder, 
And we lightly walked away; 
And I found that I was smaller, 
For the grasses brushed my elbows, 
And the asters seemed like oak-trees, 
With their trunks so tall and gray. 

Swiftly as the wind we traveled, 
Till we came unto a garden, 
Bright within a gloomy forest, 
Like a gem within the mine; 
And I saw, as we grew nearer, 
That the flowers so blue and golden 
Were but little men and women, 
Who amongst the green did shine. 

But 'twas marvelous the resemblance 
Their bright figures bore to blossoms, 
As they smiled, and danced, and courtesied, 
Clad in yellow, pink and blue; 
That fair dame, my eyes were certain, 
Who among them moved so proudly, 
Was my moss-rose, while her ear-rings 
Sparkled like the morning dew. 

Here, too, danced my pinks and pansies, 
Smiling, gayly, as they used to 
When, like beaux bedecked and merry, 
They disported in the sun; 
There, with meek eyes, walked a lily, 
While the violets and snow-drops 
Tripped it with the lordly tulips: 
Truant blossoms, every one. 

Then spoke Robin to me, wondering: 
"These blithe fairies are the spirits 
Of the flowers which all the summer 
Bloom beneath its tender sky; 
When they feel the frosty fingers 
Of the autumn closing round them, 
They forsake their earthborn dwellings, 
Which to earth return and die, 

"As befits things which are mortal. 
But these spirits, who are deathless, 
Care not for the frosty autumn, 
Nor the winter long and keen; 
But, from field, and wood, and garden, 
When their summer's tasks are finished, 
Gather here for dance and music, 
As of old, on Halloween." 

Long, with Puck, I watched the revels, 
Till the gray light of the morning 
Dimmed the luster of Orion, 
Starry sentry overhead; 
And the fairies, at that warning, 
Ceased their riot, and the brightness 
Faded from the lonely forest, 
And I knew that they had fled. 

Ah, it ne'er can be forgotten, 
This strange night I learned the secret— 
That within each flower a busy 
Fairy lives and works unseen 
Seldom is 't to mortals granted 
To behold the elves and pixies, 
To behold the merry spirits, 
Who come forth on Halloween.

Those Who Do Not Dance

A crippled child

Said, "How shall I dance?"

Let your heart dance

We said.

Then the invalid said:

"How shall I sing?"

Let your heart sing

We said

Then spoke the poor dead thistle,

"But I, how shall I dance?"

Let your heart fly to the wind

We said.

Then God spoke from above

"How shall I descend from the blue?"

Come dance for us here in the light

We said.

All the valley is dancing

Together under the sun,

And the heart of him who joins us not

Is turned to dust, to dust.

Gabriela Mistral

It has been ten days since Vincent had his stroke.  Progress is slow but it is evident.  I know the power of a positive outlook.  I found this poem and it spoke to me somehow.  It reminds me that nothing is set in stone and that anything is possible.  Also we can never be sure what unexpected sources may bring us the very moment that will bring us the influences and experiences we require. 

Blessing to all who have been so generous with your prayers and thoughts.  I truly can feel the energy.  I know that many are praying for us at this time and it has taught me that God comes in so many forms, for I feel the healing warmth from each of you. 

A Thought To Ponder - Diligence

The Wild Sunflower

At early dawn, like soldiers in their places,

Rank upon rank the golden sunflowers stand;

Gazing toward the east with eager faces,

Waiting, until their god shall touch the land

To life and glory, longingly they wait,

Those voiceless watchers at the morning's gate.

Dawn's portals tremble silently apart;

Far to the east, across the dewy plain,

A glory kindles that in every heart

Finds answering warmth and kindles there again;

And rapture beams in every radiant face

Now softly glowing with supernal grace.

And all day long that silent worship lasts,

And as their god moves grandly down the west,

And every stem a lengthening shadow casts

Toward the east, ah, they love him best,

And watch till every lingering ray is gone,

Then slowly turn to greet another dawn.

~By Albert Bigelow Paine~

Lammas Night

Lammas Night

by Robert Burns

It was on Lammas night,

When corn rigs are bonie,

Beneath the moon’s unclouded light,

I held away to Annie;

The time flew by, wi tentless heed,

Till ‘tween the late and early;

Wi’ sma’ persuasion she agreed

To see me thro’ the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,

The moon was shining clearly;

I set her down, wi’ right good will,

Amang the rings of ‘barley

I ken’t her heart was a’ my ain;

I lov’d her most sincerely;

I kissed her owre and owre again,

Among the rig o’ barley

I locked her in my fond embrace;

Her heart was beating rarely;

My blessings on that happy place,

Amang the rigs o’ barley.

But by the moon and stars so bright,

That shone that hour so clearly!

She ay shall bless that happy night,

Among the rigs o’ barley.

I hae been blithe wi’ Comrades dear;

I hae been merry drinking;

I hae been joyful’ gath’rin gear;

I hae been happy tinking;

But a’ the pleasures e’er I saw,

Tho three times doubl’d fairley

That happy night was worth them a’

Among the rig’s o’barley

Corn rigs, an’ barley rigs,

An’ corn rigs are bonie;

I’ll ne’er forget that happy night,

Among the rigs wi’ Annie.

This poem above always makes me think of the of the song "Fields of Barley" by Sting.  A beautiful song and fitting for this Lammas day so.....

Feast to your hearts content… Sing dance and be by all means merry. Light your Fire and make your corn dollies. For it is Blessed Lammas Day.

The Morning After

Well the first half of the storm is over.... We received about 1/2 to 1 ince of ice throughout the day yesterday.  We have been blessed to not have lost power for any long amount of time yet.  This is truly a blessing, as there are thousands all around us who have lost theirs.  The lights flickered a bit last night and was off for maybe 30 minutes yet came back on.  Mind you we could still lose it as it is not suppose to warm up past freezing until Sunday and the wind is picking up. 

When I woke this morning I was eager to see if any damage was done to any of the trees.  It appears that the willows are taking minor damage.  I guess the pruning we have done helped tremendously.  We did lose a large branch off of a small redbud in our front yard.  I am not sure if we will be able to save the whole tree as the branch that broke was a large part of the tree.  As I went outdoors this morning to survey the area, I cold hear the creaking of the trees under the weight of the ice.... A few snaps could also be heard.  This really is still too early to know how much damage we will have.  I am only hoping for minimal. 

I love how mother earth cleanses herself in such manners.  Much like the order of the land with the strongest surviving.  We usually think of such an example when we think of animals yet it pertains to the natural world also.  The clearing of the trees we had done earlier helped the others remaining to become stronger.  This is evident in the manner in which they are handling this ice storm.  I know that there will be loss again yet I also understand the need for it.  I do not question her  reason.  She knows what she does.  It is amazing how such death can be so beautiful.  Although I am eager for the sun to come out in the coming days so that it can melt and ease the burden that is being carried, I am also eager for the view.  There is nothing that is more brillant and beautiful then the warmth and life of sunshine against the icy cold of winter ice. 

In truth it is making Imbolc that more special and symbolic to all it is.  The turning of the wheel... the passing of the coldness of winter into the warmth of spring and the return of the sun.            

Pale winter sun lingers, lengthing each day

On twig and branch new buds begin to swell

Songbirds give voice, each striving to excel

Seed senses change in its deep bed of cold clay

Earth goddess weaves her magic to propel

Reborn cycle of her womb along its way.

Life returns in every tree's slow thought

In pond and stream the dance begins again

Spring flowers show their purpose to proclaim

A new season comes; winters reign is short

And darkness no longer exercises any claim

Green growth dispels grey moods it brought.

Imbolc by Ian R. Thorpe

My Candle

On my Table 'ere she sits

Silver, Red and Blue

Constant when her Flame is Lit

Watching All I do

Trick or Treat

As the sun sets into night

Taking with it days last light

From the shadows here they come

Goblins, witches prepared for fun

House to house they run with glee

The more they knock the more candy

Candy Apples, Popcorn Balls

Chocolate, Sweet Tarts, I want it all

Trick or treat the sights I've seen

My favorite night is Halloween

I had to write a poem for the contest on Whimsical Cottage... Thought I would share my work...

Continuous Fate

Long time… much ago
When things were younger still…
When time went slowly
And love was gained by will…

A boy with eyes of dragons
That shown an emerald green…
Felt love and lust for someone
Whose face he had never seen….

Yet still he could taste her passion
And yearn her skin to feel…
And long for that one moment
His fate with hers he’d seal.

His life it seemed was destined
To meld with her as one
Yet nowhere could he find her
Her presence was but gone

For many years he sought her
Her nearness a constant need
Seeking every corner
The path to her to lead.

At last one day she faced him
Her eyes a brilliant blue
That shown with Mother Moons own glory
And beamed a love so true


His hands they finally touched her
Ran his fingers cross her skin
Kissed her lips so softly
Wishing so much more to win

Their love transcended others
Much further than all else
For time had waited for this moment
To complete and fill the self

Even when at last they parted
Something not that either wished
Love still burned and shown as brightly
As when they received the gift

Through out time they seek each other
Wishing only just to find
That one that touched them deeply
And was one of their own kind

No one else can ever fill
The void left by that they lost
Never will they yield the search
No matter what the pain or cost

They will search until they find
The one that filled them with such joy
The love, the passion, and the pleasure
The final ending to their story.

Written by Raelin

Copyright 2009 - All content rights reserved - Mother Moons Message

Mother Moon

On a cool November eve,

After setting of the sun.

As the twilight hastens forth,

And the night has just begun.

In her brilliance forth she comes,

Lifting from the east

Shining forth for all to see,

From grandest down to least

Upward slowly as she climbs,

Into the darken sky

Shedding glow to all below,

From her pedestal on high

She is known as mother moon,

And full this night she be

In all her glory forth she comes,

And shines her light on me

Her strength is felt deep in my soul,

Her guidance in my heart

Shes been with me for many years,

Yes from the very start

Each month I watch her come and go,

From waxing thru to wane

Her movements guide me thoroughly,

Thru loses and thru gains

My mother moon, my dearest friend,

To you always be true

For you have been there all for me,

I give myself to you.

Content Copyright 2009 - Mother Moons Message