Category Archives: The Sabbats and the old craft

A poem for Samhain

I return a lesser figure Though my heart is as before Samhain is upon us dears With darkness at its core A time to honour the ancestors And our loved ones that have passed A cross quarter day See the … Continue reading

The gates

The gates silhouetted In black seemingly Magickal look at that path Leading where? To a castle perhaps To a haunt all can share Sorcerers gather and they cast Spells you can feel the A place where the past Is brought … Continue reading

Who you calling a Witch?

She will dress with great style And the seasons will mean Much more to her She of the green Her pattern of realness Her quiddity The sum and substance Is essentially Honest to goodness A trait of the good She … Continue reading

We are very different

Really we are very different Rabbits have short ears And I Have long ears with black tips I am very different And if you look into my eye Their eyes are dark mine is amber When they run their tails … Continue reading

Long meg and her daughters

Long meg and her daughters Have rested a while On the edge of the Cumbrian Pennines in style Again like the rollrights The numbers one sees Differs apparently Its a kind of tease But its very sacred One knows this … Continue reading

Chalice well and its gardens

A stillness and tranquility Meets the traveller who Stumbles on this resting place Hushed and calm the view Sweeps away before thee With its harmony aloft A breathing space a reposeful face Where everywhere feels soft In Well house lane … Continue reading


Equal day and equal night Equal dark and equal light The Autumn Equinox is real Excitedely we see the wheel And it feels right For all that light Each leaf each bud It does excite The gaze does raise that … Continue reading

Goddess Ballachulish

Undeniable there she lay 2000 years Essentially Her eyes were face downwards, she Her quartzite eyes perpetually Searching through the peaty realms Where Oblivion just overwhelms The spirit cancels out the light Intrinsically forced to bite Down on spagnum moss … Continue reading

Snowshill Manor

Snowhill Manor A 16th century country house Where once we know A certain architect was living A poet too Who loved the flow Of words and phrases Of alliteration And quietly he loved The old crafte Alchemy and magic thrilled … Continue reading

The caves of fae

Through enchanted caves Eeked out of loam the industrious moles The grotto’s work Laboriously Bewitched they cast In telepathic channels lurk Under the kings men Standing stones Otherwordly ancient bones Charmed I am sure By the worms that crawl Through … Continue reading