From ghoulies and ghosties...

Witches Rune - Valiente

WITCHES RUNE

By Doreen Valiente (1922-1999)

Darksome night and shining moon,
East, then south, then west, then north,
Hearken to the Witches' Rune;
Here I come to call thee forth.
Earth and water, aire and fire,
Wand and pentacle and sword,
Work ye unto my desire,
Hearken ye unto my word.
Cords and censer, scourge and knife,

Powers of the witch's blade -
Waken all ye unto life,
Come ye as the charm is made.
Queen of heaven, Queen of hell,
Horned hunter of the night,
Lend your power unto my spell
And work my will by magic right.
By all the power of land and sea,
By all the might of moon and sun,
As I do will, so mote it be;
Chant the spell and be it done.
© Doreen Valiente
Creative Commons License - UK

Vintage Postcard of the week...

Is it Haunted?

Abandoned Hotel - New York State

All houses wherein men have lived and died are haunted houses. Through the open doors the harmless phantoms on their errands glide, with feet that make no sound upon the floors. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

The Charge of the Goddess - Valiente

THE CHARGE OF THE GODDESS

By Doreen Valiente (1922-1999)

Listen to the words of the Great Mother,
who of old was called Artemis, Astarte, Diane,
Melusine, Aphrodite, Ceridwen, Diana, Arionrhod,
Brigid, and by many other names:
"Whenever you have need of anything, once in the month
and better it be when the moon is full, you shall
assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit
of Me who is Queen of all the Wise. You shall be
free from slavery, and as a sign that you be free
you shall be naked in your rights.
Sing, feast, dance, make music and love,
all in My presence, for Mine is the ecstasy of the spirit
and Mine also is the joy of the earth. For My law is
love unto all beings. Mine is the secret that opens
upon the door of youth, and Mine is the cup of
wine of life that is the Cauldron of Ceridwen
that is the holy grail of immortality.
I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal and
beyond death I give peace and freedom and
reunion with those that have gone before.
Nor do I demand ought of sacrifice, for behold,
I am the mother of all things and My love is
poured upon the earth."

Hear the words of the Star Goddess, the dust of
whose feet are the hosts of heaven,
whose body encircles the universe:
"I who am the beauty of the green earth and
the white moon among the stars and the mysteries
of the waters, I call upon your soul to arise
and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature that
gives life to the universe, From Me all things proceed
and unto Me they must return. Let My worship be
in the heart that rejoices, for behold -- all acts of
love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there be
beauty and strength, power and compassion,
honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you.
And you who seek to know Me, know that your
seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you
know the Mystery: for if that which you seek,
you find not within yourself, you will never
find it without. For behold, I have been with you
from the beginning, and I am that which is
attained at the end of desire."

© Doreen Valiente

October!

Listen! the wind is rising,
and the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings,
now for October eves!
~~ Humbert Wolfe ~~

My favorite month of the year has arrived! I will spend the day in celebration of it... maybe take a long walk and kick up some leaves, maybe build the first scarecrow, maybe drag out the decor... ('course some of it is already out). Whatever the day brings, I am happy October is here.

Witch Way - McGee

Witch Way

By Shelagh McGee

Have you ever seen a witch?
Never? What a pity!
Her dress and hat are black as pitch
And so is her pet kitty.
Have you ever seen a witch in the sky?
No? Oh dearie me!
On her broomstick she does fly
She's very hard to see.
Have you every heard one speak?
No? You've not heard any?
They sound like doors whose hinges squeak --
Me, I've heard too many.
Have you ever cast a spell?
My dear, what do you do?
When you're not feeling very well
Or when your nose is blue?

Now you must join our little band
And stretch your education
We meet at night on marshy land
Behind the railroad station.

We all fly in to chant and screech
And cast our special spell
All our secrets we will teach
If you promise not to tell...

© Shelagh McGee

The Vampyre - Stagg

The Vampyre, 1810

By John Stagg
1770-1823

Why looks my lord so deadly pale?
Why fades the crimson from his cheek?
What can my dearest husband ail?
Thy heartfelt cares, O Herman, speak!

Why, at the silent hour of rest,
Dost thou in sleep so sadly mourn?
Has tho' with heaviest grief oppress'd,
Griefs too distressful to be borne.

Why heaves thy breast?--why throbs thy heart?
O speak! and if there be relief,
Thy Gertrude solace shall impart,
If not, at least shall share thy grief.

Wan is that cheek, which once the bloom
Of manly beauty sparkling shew'd;
Dim are those eyes, in pensive gloom,
That late with keenest lustre glow'd.

Say why, too, at the midnight hour,
You sadly pant and tug for breath,
As if some supernat'ral pow'r
Were pulling you away to death?

Restless, tho' sleeping, still you groan,
And with convulsive horror start;
O Herman! to thy wife make known
That grief which preys upon thy heart.

O Gertrude! how shall I relate
Th' uncommon anguish that I feel;
Strange as severe is this my fate,--
A fate I cannot long conceal.

In spite of all my wonted strength,
Stern destiny has seal'd my doom;
The dreadful malady at length
Wil drag me to the silent tomb!

But say, my Herman, what's the cause
Of this distress, and all thy care.
That, vulture-like, thy vitals gnaws,
And galls thy bosom with despair?

Sure this can be no common grief,
Sure this can be no common pain?
Speak, if this world contain relief,
That soon thy Gertrude shall obtain.

O Gertrude, 'tis a horrid cause,
O Gertrude, 'tis unusual care,
That, vulture-like, my vitals gnaws,
And galls my bosom with despair.

Young Sigismund, my once dear friend,
But lately he resign'd his breath;
With others I did him attend
Unto the silent house of death.

For him I wept, for him I mourn'd,
Paid all to friendship that was due;
But sadly friendship is return'd,
Thy Herman he must follow too!

Must follow to the gloomy grave,
In spite of human art or skill;
No pow'r on earth my life can save,
'Tis fate's unalterable will!

Young Sigismund, my once dear friend,
But now my persecutor foul,
Doth his malevolence extend
E'en to the torture of my soul.

By night, when, wrapt in soundest sleep,
All mortals share a soft repose,
My soul doth dreadful vigils keep,
More keen than which hell scarely knows.

From the drear mansion of the tomb,
From the low regions of the dead,
The ghost of Sigismund doth roam,
And dreadful haunts me in my bed!

There, vested in infernal guise,
(By means to me not understood,)
Close to my side the goblin lies,
And drinks away my vital blood!

Sucks from my veins the streaming life,
And drains the fountain of my heart!
O Gertrude, Gertrude! dearest wife!
Unutterable is my smart.

When surfeited, the goblin dire,
With banqueting by suckled gore,
Will to his sepulchre retire,
Till night invites him forth once more.

Then will he dreadfully return,
And from my veins life's juices drain;
Whilst, slumb'ring, I with anguish mourn,
And toss with agonizing pain!

Already I'm exhausted, spent;
His carnival is nearly o'er,
My soul with agony is rent,
To-morrow I shall be no more!

But, O my Gertrude! dearest wife!
The keenest pangs hath last remain'd--
When dead, I too shall seek thy life,
Thy blood by Herman shall be drain'd!

But to avoid this horrid fate,
Soon as I'm dead and laid in earth,
Drive thro' my corpse a jav'lin straight;--
This shall prevent my coming forth.

O watch with me, this last sad night,
Watch in your chamber here alone,
But carefully conceal the light
Until you hear my parting groan.

Then at what time the vesper-bell
Of yonder convent shall be toll'd,
That peal shall ring my passing knell,
And Herman's body shall be cold!

Then, and just then, thy lamp make bare,
The starting ray, the bursting light,
Shall from my side the goblin scare,
And shew him visible to sight!

The live-long night poor Gertrude sate,
Watch'd by her sleeping, dying lord;
The live-long night she mourn'd his fate,
The object whom her soul ador'd.

Then at what time the vesper-bell
Of yonder convent sadly toll'd,
The, then was peal'd his passing knell,
The hapless Herman he was cold!

Just at that moment Gertrude drew
From 'neath her cloak the hidden light;
When, dreadful! she beheld in view
The shade of Sigismund!--sad sight!

Indignant roll'd his ireful eyes,
That gleam'd with wild horrific stare;
And fix'd a moment with surprise,
Beheld aghast th' enlight'ning glare.

His jaws cadaverous were besmear'd
With clott'd carnage o'er and o'er,
And all his horrid whole appear'd
Distent, and fill'd with human gore!

With hideous scowl the spectre fled;
She shriek'd aloud;--then swoon'd away!
The hapless Herman in his bed,
All pale, a lifeless body lay!

Next day in council 'twas decree,
(Urg'd at the instance of the state,)
That shudd'ring nature should be freed
From pests like these ere 'twas too late.

The choir then burst the fun'ral dome
Where Sigismund was lately laid,
And found him, tho' within the tomb,
Still warm as life, and undecay'd.

With blood his visage was distain'd,
Ensanguin'd were his frightful eyes,
Each sign of former life remain'd,
Save that all motionless he lies.

The corpse of Herman they contrive
To the same sepulchre to take,
And thro' both carcases they drive,
Deep in the earth, a sharpen'd stake!

By this was finish'd their career,
Thro' this no longer they can roam;
From them their friends have nought to fear,
Both quiet keep the slumb'ring tomb.

Quote: The frost's on the pumpkin

Of autumn's wine, now drink your fill; the frost's on the pumpkin, and snow's on the hill.
- The Old Farmer's Almanac, 1993

A Witch - Barnes

A WITCH

William Barnes (1801-1886)

There's thik wold hag, Moll Brown, look zee, jus' past!
I wosh the ugly sly wold witch
Would tumble over into ditch;
I woulden pull her out not very vast.
No, no. I don't think she's a bit belied,
No, she's a witch, aye, Molly's evil-eyed.
Vor i do know o' many a withren blight
A-cast on vo'k by Molly's mutter'd spite;
She did, woone time, a dreadful deal o' harm
To Farmer Gruff's vo'k, down at Lower Farm.
Vor there, woone day, they happend to offend her,
An' not a little to their sorrow,
Because they woulden gi'e or lend her
Zome 'hat she come to bag or borrow;
An' zoo, they soon becan to vind
That she'd gone and left behind
Her evil wish that had such pow'r,
That she did meake their milk and eale turn zour,
An' addle all the aggs their vowls did lay;
They coulden vetch the butter in the churn,
An' all the cheese began to turn
All back agean to curds an' whey;
The little pigs, a runnen with the zow,
Did zicken, zomehow, nobody know'd how,
An vall, an' turn their snouts toward the sky.
An' only gi'e woone little grunt, an' die;
An, all the little ducks an' chicken
Wer death-struck out in yard a-picken
Their bits of food, an' vell upon their head,
An' flapp'd their little wings an' drapp'd down dead.
They coulden fat the calves, they woulden thrive;
They coulden seave their lambs alive;
Their sheep wer a-coath'd, or gi'ed no wool;
The hosses vell away to skin an' bwones,
An' got so weak they coulden pull
A half a peck o' stones;
The dog got dead-alive an' drowsy,
The cat vell sick an' woulden' mousy;
An' every time the vo'k went up to bed,
They were a-nag-rod till they were half dead.
They us'd to keep her out of the house, 'tis true,
A-nailen up at door a hosses' shoe;
An I've a-heard the farmer's wife did try
To dawk a needle or a pin
In drough her wold hard wither'd skin,
An' draw her blood, a-comen by:
But she could never vetch a drap,
For pins would ply an' needles snap
Agean her skin; an' that, in coo'se,
Did meake the hag bewitch them woo'se.