The Risen Lord and Laughing Queen

The Risen Lord and Laughing Queen
A Beltaine Poem
By Muninn's Kiss

The wakened sleeper clothed in gold,
Warmed with Spring and rising sun,
Drapped in green and newborn leaf,
Who once had died but rose again.

Golden scales and raven hair,
Skin of blue and feathers fair,
Who began a journey by candler's flame,
And rose in glory in first leaf's show.

In comes his Bride the fair Corn Maid,
Whose blackened veil now glowing white,
Grass stains on her small bare feet,
And bloodied sword upon her back.

The dancers dance and singers sing,
Risen lord and laughing queen,
The snow has melted and green grows strong,
Winter then Spring give way to sun.

Veil of white over golden hair,
A cotton dress with playful tears,
Small feet dance as if on air,
She laughs in joy at his peacock flair.

Round they spin just like the year,
Celebrating life and new found love,
Love reborn from past the grave,
Youth and Maiden, lust and joy.

The time has come to start again,
A marriage feast and strong bond hands,
New life, new love, all is born,
Eternal love, past Death's cold hand.

Around the pole the ribbons fly,
Dancing round in lustful fun,
In honor to the fair Corn Maid,
And Peacock Lord reborn again.

The Call

The Call
By Muninn's Kiss

As the metal hare settles to sleep,
The water dragon stretches and stirs,
The world serpent around the world,
A curled serpent in a cave,
Slowly stirring, his coils spread,
In the underworld he's made his nest,
And waited through the coldest time,
Darkling serpent, shining snake,
His head he raises and starts to move,
Crawling forth on fair Bride's day,
Up the Well of Worlds he comes,
Across the Veil from world to world,
He hears the call of a thousand flames,
Candles lit and fires bright,
The heat, the light, it calls him forth,
Through deepest dark and waters cold,
Up he crawls, reborn from death,
Cthonic darkling, to worlds above,
Ravens dance the dance of death,
And flames the flicker, the spark of life,
The Bride she calls, the serpent comes,
Reborn and new, the strange Horned Child,
And a ring around the moon.

The Throne of Bone

The Throne of Bone
A Poem of the Winter Solstice
By Muninn’s Kiss

Darkest night and shortest day,
Shadows reign and darkness calls,
The shadowy figure of Death stands by,
Patiently waiting for all to fall.

Each child born will surly die,
None is spared and all know why,
At Death’s bone throne each one will come,
He needn’t search for all will come.

The sun sets earlier for half the year,
Night grows longer, shadows strive,
The year he ages as do all,
Growing weaker, growing frail.

The time draws near when he will die,
The year we’ve loved so hard to watch,
The mourners all do gather round,
For letting go is the hardest task.

With the sun, the year does set,
Sinking down into the grave,
Like each man, he bows his knee,
And presents himself at the throne of bone.

In his birth we knew he’d die,
For every beginning contains the end,
We watched him grow like a new born lamb,
We watch him die at the Slaughterer’s hand.

Every beginning has it’s end,
But every ending is born again,
With Dawn’s first light like the Morning Star,
The new year rises and live once more.

Fresh and hopeful, full of life,
The year reborn begins his flight,
We watch him stretch and try his wings,
We glory that he lives again.

Forgetting the grief and sorrow past,
We pretend he didn’t see Death’s own face,
With the new year, we fly away,
Trying to forget our own mortality.

The Year is Drawing Nigh, a Samhain poem

The Year is Drawing Nigh

A Samhain poem by Muninn’s Kiss

As darkness fall, the veil thin,

The year is drawing nigh.

Shadows lengthen, gather strength,

The year is drawing nigh.

The dead they stir, and look around,

The year is drawing nigh.

Tonight they walk, tonight they dine,

The year is drawing nigh.

The sinks down, she’s dying now,

The year is drawing nigh.

Beneath the hills, the dying sun,

The year is drawing nigh.

Hollow hills, they open wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Faerie folk, the mighty dead,

The year is drawing nigh.

Samhain’s fires, burning bright,

The year is drawing nigh.

To dance around, in death’s embrace,

The year is drawing nigh.

Ancestors dead, some long gone,

The year is drawing nigh.

We tip a glass, we place a plate,

The year is drawing nigh.

Death stands up, tonight he reigns,

The year is drawing nigh.

In darkness strong, the dying year,

The year is drawing nigh.

The revelers grow deathly quiet,

The year is drawing nigh.

All knees bend and all tongue stilled,

The year is drawing nigh.

For Death takes all and all will come,

The year is drawing nigh.

The Gates of Death, they open wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

His face you meet, at Death’s great doors,

The year is drawing nigh.

A friend, a judge, a lover, a blade,

The year is drawing nigh.

His embrace is sweet, but deathly cold,

The year is drawing nigh.

In love he strips you, bone from bone,

The year is drawing nigh.

Nothing left, you pass beyond,

The year is drawing nigh.

The veil it parts, the doors swing wide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Your last strong breath, last orgasm,

The year is drawing nigh.

And through you go, to what’s beyond,

The year is drawing nigh.

But Death’s great doors and Life’s fair doors,

The year is drawing nigh.

What’s dead and gone, will be reborn,

The year is drawing nigh.

A new breath breathed, a new day dawns,

The year is drawing nigh.

Death to Life, he takes your hand,

The year is drawing nigh.

All is gone, but all in new,

The year is drawing nigh.

The new dawn’s sun, in the east,

The year is drawing nigh.

The cold it flees, the shadows hide,

The year is drawing nigh.

Dark Samhain’s night to new year’s light,

The year is drawing nigh.

What was dead has come again.

All Hail the Summer King

Title page for The Boy's
King Arthur.  Image from
Wikimedia Commons.

All Hail the Summer King
By Muninn’s Kiss

All hail the Summer King!
For now he reigns supreme!
Dark has failed and light has won,
And now it begins again.

All hail the Summer King!
For now he reigns supreme!
His brother’s dead, off with his head,
His blood runs down the streets.

All hail the Summer King!
For now he reigns supreme!
The fires burn, the waters flow,
And all is as it seems.

All hail the Summer King!
For now he reigns supreme!
Upon his throne, with his lovely bride,
Good cheer he spreads around.

All hail the Summer King!
For now he reigns supreme!
But darkness grows, and Winter comes,
And soon his time will come.