Genesis Order of  Druids Portsmouth
 

The Waning Year

It’s Lammas

Sunlight Waning
Earths fertility is failing
Ripened crops in the fields
As Mother Earth gives up her fruits
We reap the harvest from springtime sown seeds
The darkness beckons peaking over lights shoulder
As natures orange cloak prepares to descend over the green trees
Celebrate in corns golden joy
Its Lammas, Its Lammas, Lammas is here.
Stormwatch - July 2009

John Barleycorn

There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o'er and o'er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.

'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in this old land!
(Robert Burns Circ 1782)

Elfed’s Time Is Here

The heat of Summer is waning fast,
Fallen leaves carpet the ground,
As the vibrant green of Summer gives way to the golden hues of Autumn.
Acorns of Oak, nuts of Hazel, apples on the trees.
Sloes and Bramble berries in the hedgerow ready to feast on at last.

The sky is dotted with birds silhouetted migrating south.
We see creatures gathering in their life giving harvest,
and farmers reaping Ostara's hope
The light still receding, but now in balance.
It is the darkness which beckons

As energy falls in anticipation of winters rebirth
We enjoy the final days of sunlight warming,
but sense Jack Frost is calling. 

We celebrate and thank Gaia our great mother
as she gives up her fruits to sustain us through the darkness,
We ask the greenman, our father to nurture the land through the cold months of Winter.
As we look to the return of the light once again.
And to the eternal cycle of natures rebirth.
The Summer has past, the reaping finished.

Elfed's time is here again.
Stormwatch - 06/08/2011

The Shortest Day

The day is short, the night is long,
Darkness rules, as the Oak king returns to take up his reign o’er the earth.
Yule logs alight, Mistletoe is cut from sombre tree bough.
Winters white, cleansing the land in anticipation of returning life.
Wine is mulled, Chestnuts roasted and Mead is quaffed,
Celebrating the rebirth of light.
This Winter Solstice morn.

People scurrying in commercial haste,
Plastic, electric, tons of waste.
Shiny gifts under pointy tree from white bearded uncle.
Homes decorated, twinkling lights, a glittery grotto.
Celebrating with family and friends.
Fires burn in homely hearth, crackling orange glow,
The woodsmoke curls from the frosted rooftops.

Robin red breast in prickly Holly bush,
blown by the chill winters wind.
Creatures searching for food on the snow covered land.
Jack in the green takes the goddess’s hand
Preparing for the warm days to come.
Remember the reason, rejoice in the season.
This Winter Solstice night.
Stormwatch - 28/11/2009

Lammas Sacrifice.

Summer sun is waning and the first breeze of Autumn whispers through the trees.
Birds packing for migrating south, scurrying tiny harvest mice.
Barleycorn bends his weary head, his life too soon to sacrifice.
Fields of golden brown, spotted red poppies in memorial
As Lammas signals Johns time is near.
With the swathe of the sickle cut down dead in the harvesters merciless wake.
To feed the animals and brewed into ale to lighten your head
So as you take your fill look over the barren fields strewn with straw
Pause for a moment and thank John Barleycorn for his golden glory will return again next year.
Stormwatch - July 2010

Mabon's Call

The Sunlight wanes as the darkness approaches, but today is in balance.
The harvest of fruits from the trees gives life to the creatures of the earth.
The final warmth of summer bathes the land
As the plants and trees start to withdraw into winters gloom
But first comes the Autumnal hues of red, brown, yellow and gold
proceeding winters stark grey cold
Birds fly south across the autumn skies
As the glint of summer sun disappears from our eyes
Now is the time to withdraw
As the nights draw in and temperature falls,
we look forward to Samhain's mystical call.
Stormwatch - 31/08/2009

To Autumn
John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.


Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.


Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Samhain's mystical Call - An Autumn Trilogy (first two parts previously posted as It's Lammas and Mabons Call)

Sunlight Waning
Earths fertility is failing
Ripened crops in the fields
As Mother Earth gives up her fruits
We reap the harvest from springtime sown seeds
The darkness beckons peaking over lights shoulder
As natures orange cloak prepares to descend over the green trees
Celebrate in corns golden joy

The Sunlight fades as the darkness approaches, but today is in balance.
The harvest of fruits from the trees gives life to the creatures of the earth.
The final warmth of summer bathes the land
As the plants and trees start to withdraw into winters gloom
But first comes the Autumnal hues of red, brown, yellow and gold
proceeding winters stark grey cold
Birds fly south across the autumn skies
As the glint of summer sun disappears from our eyes
Now is the time to withdraw
As the nights draw in and temperature falls, we look forward to Samhain's mystical call.

The heat of Summer, but a distant memory.
As Father Sun descends the western sky.
Darkness now reigns as the light is retreating.
The veil between the worlds is thin.
This is the time to celebrate the turning of the years wheel, to remember those that have passed.
This is the time to rejoice in Samhain’s mystical call.

Dark windows dressed with orange bright Pumpkins.
Their twinkling light warning the spirits,
Enchanting the children with their flickering glow,
as through the trees the first chill winds blow
Let us raise our glasses to the ancestors and toast to the future,
Let us cast a spell for good health,
Praise the goddess, the mother, the crone.
As we drink our mead and feast on earths harvest
It is the time to embrace Samhain’s Mystical call.
Stormwatch - Autumn 2009

October

September wanes into the distance,
The waxing darkness of October is here.
Trees give up their lush green leaves,
To make way for orange, red and russet hues.
Migrating birds signal the passing year.
The harvest is done, the warmth is over.
We give thanks to what has been and what is to come.
Fallen leaves spin around the ground to caress our feet.
With the decay comes new life as we remember those who have passed.
The turning of the year has come.
Hail Samhain as we celebrate with orange bright pumpkins.
Dark ale warming our spirits as the veil between the worlds is thin.
Come October spirits and walk among us,
Before the Oak king returns in the depth of winters gloom.
Stormwatch 02/10/2015

Dawn Chorus

As the orange glow of streetlights fade.
Tree tops and hedge spring to life.
The birds sing out in anticipation at the dawn of the new day.
The shrill whistles and muted warbling wash over you.
Natures choir from leafy stage.
Screaming feathered arias from tree on high, whispered calls from inside bush .
Heard but not seen, you stand in wonder at this aural delight.
The birdsong signalling the sun it is time to rise.
A distant drone of human transport telling the creatures of the night it is time for bed.
Morning mist rising ethereal from the grassy carpet caressing the tree trunks.
The sun has arisen woken by winged alarm.
Another new day has dawned in natures never ending cycle.
Stormwatch 13/05/2010

If you have a verse or poem that you would like to display on this page. Please email them to us to be published here

waxing
icons
Druid network logo