Hail Lupercal!

Hail Lupercal!

O hail the Wolf,

In all Her many guise!

The Tearing One,

Who fills the dark,

The Mother of everything!

Hail Lupercal!

O hail the Wolf,

Hail the Wild One!

Hail Her Get,

Hail Her Twins,

The Dancers of the Dark!

Hail Lupercal!

O hail the Wolf,

Hail the Hooded Three!

Hail fair Spinner,

Hail sly Weaver,

Hail the dreaded Cutter now!

Hail Lupercal!

O hail the Wolf,

And hail the Keeper Four,

White Fame and Red,

Green Flame and Blue,

Hail the mighty blowing Winds!

Hail Lupercal!

Oh hail the Wolf,

Hail the Goat and Wolf in one!

Lupercalia,

The feast each year,

An offering to God Herself!

~Hail Lupercal! a poem of Lupercalia by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, February 18, 2017

Mists Between the Worlds, a poem of Candlemas

The mists that part,
  By Bride's Day light,
Are mists between the worlds,
They open wide,
  The gates of night,
And allow things to pass both ways,
What died before,
  Comes forth once more,
The serpent's wings are spread,
On Hallow's Eve,
  That sacrifice,
Begins the year again,
Forth from the well,
  Between the worlds,
Scaled form returns once more,
A new year dawns,
  In dark moon light,
And all begins once more,
Upon her forge,
  New year is wrought,
By hammer and by flame,
The raven's call,
  The hope of all,
As she forges the year again,
Now the births,
  In springtime snows,
In cold and solemn moons,
Keeper of Ways,
  Builder of Paths,
Takes now the regency,
Misrule is done,
  That tide is turned,
Bride's Time has come again,
The Trouble Moon,
  It parts and passes,
The Lost Moon begins again.
And awakened now,
  The serpent old,
Begins a journey home,
As they open wide,
  The gates of night,
And allow things to pass both ways,
For the mists that part,
  By Bride's Day light,
Are mists between the worlds.
~Mists Between the Worlds, a Candlemas poem by Lorekeeper, February 3, 2017

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms

You take your throne as winter comes,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Secrets rest as the Dead rise up,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

We the Lost who few can see,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

We hear your call of winter winds,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

A fire lit that once was cold,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

On winter winds you find your own,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The year grows nigh as time does stop,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The time has come for cold Misrule,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Gates of Life and Gates of Death,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Flutter open to part the Veil,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Speak to me, oh cold Cold One,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Whom once rode forth all teeth and eyes,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Your time has come, the dice are cast,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Coils of ice and coils of snow,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Serpent form among the trees,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The moving sway of Serpent hips,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Ice Queen sits as Hallow's Eve,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Finds its way to All Hallow's,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Regent sits high in the North,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And know her time has come again,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Hail to you Keeper of the Lost,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Hail to you who brings the tears,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The pale Blue Flame of Winter's Night,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

We know your face and Serpent's Tongue,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The cold Black Altar in the Hall of Stone,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Cutter there before the Black Gates,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Her Black Knife raised to cut the threads,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And Death's wings spread beside the Gates,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

To guide the Living and the Dead,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

For now the Veil is open wide,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Gates are open and swing both ways,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Mighty Dead we praise tonight,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Blessed Dead we call your names,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The pulsing call of Bloodline blood,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The pulsing call of Loreline blood,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The pulsing call of Fateline blood,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Blood does call, it calls to Blood,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Bones do wake and speak once more,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Memory sleeps in sleeping Bones,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And Blood awakens the sleeping Bones,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And quickens now what once was dead,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

On altar top and in the Halls,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

We call you now to come to us,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

To breathe again the breath we breathe,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And speak this night and speak again,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And as the Darkness now recedes,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

The Darkling Twin awaits the Bright,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Misrule reigns and all is Öð,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Öð and odd, and Wyrd and weird,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And may the Hunt now pass us by,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Or may we ride the frightful ride,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

By Winter's Night and crossroad light,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And ghost roads stretch into the night,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And troll roads strange and faerie roads,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

That lead out there between the worlds,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Guide our way with lantern bright,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

We are the Lost, you children tonight,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Toss your dice for us just right,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

And may the year we now head to,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

Find the dreams the Dreamer dreamed,

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,

This year manifest this next.

~Hail, oh, Builder of Storms, a Hallow poem by Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, November 1, 2015

Hail, Regent of the North

Hail, Regent of the North

By Muninn's Kiss

Hail, Regent of the North

Winter Queen, Samhain Queen

Ice Serpent, Storm Dragon

Keeper of the Lost

Builder of Storms

Bringer of Tears

Hail!

Now you stand

Now you sit

Tongue of the Serpent

Tongue of the Serpent
By Muninn's Kiss
July, 14, 2013

Across the hills,
The Serpent's tongue,
The echo of the deep,
Like thunder shaking,
And lightning striking,
The power of the storm,
Her voice it calls,
Across the hills,
Answering my call,
A voice to fear,
Sheer power's voice,
All across the hills.

Seven Stones

Seven Stones
By Muninn's Kiss
2013-04-12

I know of seven stones,
Seven altars from long ago,
That stand forevermore,  
A barren stone upon a hill,
An altar that's lichen grown,
An icy stone in a valley fair,
An altar that's deathly cold,
A flat worn stone where two roads cross,
A wind swept altar stone,
A granite stone that's oak leaf strewn,
An altar covered in leaves,
A stone that's deep beneath the ground,
An altar of iron strength,
A stone that's high as the very stars,
An altar that's burning bright,
And a stone that stands at the world's own centre,
An altar made of dust.

I know of seven fires,
Seven flames so bright,
And burn upon the stones,
A green, green flame upon a hill,
That burns in a secret place,
A blue, blue flame in a valley fair,
The time of it's lighting lost,
A white, white flame where two roads cross,
A flame to light the way,
A red, red flame among oak leaves,
A flame that's passion's own,
A deep, deep flame that glows like coals,
A flame that heats the world,
A pale, pale flame that's high above,
In a black well cold as space,
A live, live flame that glows within,
A heart within the dust.

I know of seven breaths,
Seven winds so strong,
That blow to fan the flames,
A howling wind across a hill,
A lonely, howling wind,
A storming wind in a valley fair,
A roaring, storming wind,
A raging wind where two roads cross,
A raging, endless wind,
A rolling wind rustling oak leaves,
A rolling, rambling wind,
A solid wind beneath the ground,
A solid, steady wind,
A stellar wind in the very stars,
A stellar, solar wind,
A living wind that was breathed in,
An offering in the dust.

I know of seven wells,
Seven fountains the flow,
That wash the altars clean,
A mountain spring and a mountain stream,
That carves a path below,
A valley spring and a valley stream,
Where grazing herds do drink,
A river slow and a canal bold,
That waters fields and crops,
A passionate spring and a treasured stream,
Among the hills of oak,
A well so deep and a stream so dark,
That flows beneath the ground,
A glistening stream and a river white,
High above all else,
A spring so warm and a stream of blood,
Wetting the altar or dust.