The Book

By Raven Lemay

Across from darkened hall, behind closed door,
a small lamp flickers faithfully.
I sit with feet upon the cold stone floor
Worn smooth by those who've journeyed before me.

The light of candle falls upon my pen
And illuminates the Word and Way for me.
The Shadows they rise up and fall again
But the colors they are bright enough to see.

The twisting Vine around the Word does grow
with gilt-gold leaves and fruits so ripe and rare
and becomes a candle - with red flame all aglow
and the flame becomes the Lion's golden hair.

I turn the page, and there before my eyes
The Word illumines brighter than before
The stars and universe enfold It round
as cherubim and seraphim adore.

With silver moon and stars around her feet
The Universe enfolds her with Its Grace.
For she bears the Cosmic Child of Light so sweet
The Undying Sun who holds the world in His embrace.

I wrap a woolen cloak around my frame
to ward off the chill and drafty winds of night
That shake and try to squelch the Candle flame
and make dark - the Word before my sight.

For I myself am drawn into the scene
In colors bright - alive and many hued.
I see in myself the Vine so evergreen
Myself with candle flame imbued.

I know not yet the Writing on this page
for the Author of it alone directs the pen
But when the time is ripe for the Word Unknown
I will pick up this book and write and read again.

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The Shepherd

"How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs’ innocent call,
And he hears the ewes’ tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh."

by William Blake

Keywords: odin volsunga saga  corrections reprint  portable magic tool  witchcraft south  anthology oral histories  devil feminine soul  asgard tales northern  recommended heathen  

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The Keepers Of Imbolc

(by: Deva A.M. Bluewing)

In silence they gather
Black robed against the Blacker
Waning Winter night
Tapers aglow with Faerie FyreThey descend from the high forestsTo the gentle fields of farming folkBecause the time draws nigh

Clasping each the other's hands
They dance through the darkness
All to-ing-and-fro-ing
With upturned faces
(Common eye hath never seen)

Faint silver-blueShimmering grows about themThe air is electricFertile with Love, Pregnant with Life

Beneath the soft white Quilting
Within the womb of Earth
The shimmering penetrates
Calling
A seed's shell
Cracks!

Blue-silver fading
Hands thrown high
In the instant b'twixt night and light
Dancing shadows dissolve
And upon the Sun's first ray
A whispered, "So Mote It Be...

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The Triple Fool By John Donne

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry ;
But where's that wise man, that would not be I,
If she would not deny ?
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain ;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

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Gypsy Hand

Too brite days
midnights that refuse to
abide dark and secret
as empty phrases chant
to fairytale Moons
I tell myself
This is no ordinary room
This is no fleeting flittering life
This is a magical passageway
sparkling like mica, like miracles

Quiet traces
luminous impression
a trailing kite tail binds
silent whimpers, sojourning whispers,
tears shining behind mime smiles

Crone's gnarled fingers, playing
to spite agony
simulate touch
beyond ache
Too brite cell,
crouched scarred shadow
I cast silhouette of metamagic gypsy
hand offering

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The Witches Creed

Hear Now the words of the witches,
The secrets we hid in the night,
When dark was our destiny's pathway,
That now we bring forth into light.

Mysterious water and fire,
The earth and the wide-ranging air,
By hidden quintessence we know them,
And will and keep silent and dare.

The birth and rebirth of all nature,
The passing of winter and spring,
We share with the life universal,
Rejoice in the magical ring.

Four times in the year the Great Sabbat
Returns, and the witches are seen
At Lammas and Candlemas dancing,
On May Eve and old Hallowe'en.

When day-time and night-time are equal,
When sun is at greatest and least,
The four Lesser Sabbats are summoned,
And Witches gather in feast.

Thirteen silver moons in a year are,
Thirteen is the coven's array.
Thirteen times at Esbat make merry,
For each golden year and a day.

The power that was passed down the age,
Each time between woman and man,
Each century unto the other,
Ere time and the ages began.

When drawn is the magical circle,
By sword or athame of power,
Its compass between two worlds lies,
In land of the shades for that hour.

This world has no right then to know it,
And world of beyond will tell naught.
The oldest of Gods are invoked there,
The Great Work of magic is wrought.

For the two are mystical pillars,
That stand at the gate of the shrine,
And two are the powers of nature,
The forms and the forces divine.

The dark and the light in succession,
The opposites each unto each,
Shown forth as a God and a Goddess:
Of this our ancestors teach.

By night he's the wild wind's rider,
The Horned One, the Lord of the Shades.
By day he's the King of the Woodland,
The dweller in green forest glades.

She is youthful or old as she pleases,
She sails the torn clouds in her barque,
The bright silver lady of midnight,
The crone who weaves spells in the dark.

The master and mistress of magic,
That dwell in the deeps of the mind,
Immortal and ever-renewing,
With power to free or to bind.

So drink the good wine to the Old Gods,
And Dance and make love in their praise,
Till Elphame's fair land shall receive us
In peace at the end of our days.

And Do What You Will be the challenge,
So be it Love that harms none,
For this is the only commandment.
By Magic of old, be it done!

Doreen Valiente, "Witchcraft For Tomorrow" pp.172-173

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The New Colossus By Emma Lazarus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame.
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

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Lyra

Lyra
In her bubble
Dances near me now

Tiny seer
You never wobble
As you dance the Tao

Rainbow Fire
Like the Maple
And the Oak Tree, too

Flumes your Air
Suppley
Beauty! Wow!

(Us little people gotta stick together even at a distance...maybe better at a distance )

Hugh Read

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The Speech Of The High One

I know I hung on that windswept tree,
Swung there for nine long nights,
Wounded by my own blade,
Bloodied for Odinn,
Myself and offering to myself:
Bound to the tree
That no man knows
Wither the roots of it run.

None gave me bread,
None gave me drink.
Down to the deepest depths I peered
Until I spied the Runes.
With a roaring cry I seized them up,
Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.

Well-being I won
And wisdom too.
I grew and took joy in my Growth:
From a word to a word
I was led to a word, From a deed to another deed.

The Poetic Edda (ca A.D. 1200)

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The Sick Rose

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm.
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

by William Blake

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To Greyshield With Love

The circle cast about us.
The Gods bear witness to our love.
The Watchtower Guardians keep
silent vigil.
Our Brothers and Sisters stand with us.
The Lord and Lady have granted
us audience.
The Candlelight reflects the love
in your eyes.
A love that we have shared before,
Not even death to come between us.
We stand together, hand in hand.
Our paths have merged again.
The Moon beckons us to join Her,
gladly we go.
The Lady smiles upon us.

Phoenix

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An Encyclopedia Of Ancient Greek And Roman Mythology

Book: An Encyclopedia Of Ancient Greek And Roman Mythology by James Hampton Belton

E. M. Berens orginally wrote “Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece and Rome” to provide an interesting work on Greek and Roman mythology, suitable for advanced schools. He (or she, I haven't been able to find out) wanted to give the student a clear and succinct idea of the Religious beliefs of the ancients, and to render the subject at once interesting and instructive. He hoped to awaken in the minds of young students a desire to become more intimately acquainted with the noble productions of classical antiquity.

I decided to create this Encyclopedia because I like the ease of use of a single browsable document in alphabetical order, and did not find a free encyclopedia that I liked. Wikipedia is a fantastic resource, but it is not an easy read. I liked the consistant, easy style of the E. M. Berens book, and because it was available from Project Gutenberg for free and without restrictions, I could take it and turn it into this reference work at only the cost of my time.
A very brief note on the conventions for the entry headings: the name of the entry is usually followed by the pronounciation in parentheses. In the case of figures who have equivalents in Greek and Roman mythology, the equivalent figure's name then follows in brackets. I hope you enjoy this book. Regards, James Hampton Belton

Download James Hampton Belton's eBook: An Encyclopedia Of Ancient Greek And Roman Mythology

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Unveiled

Across all eternity
Love punctures the veil.
And time, but an illusion
Exists Only in the eyes
Of Small men.
Whereas we know forever.
We Love forever.

Contributed and authored by Moontoadie

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Elf

Wilst I think,
And sit and dream Within the forest,
soft footfall comes up Behind me,
as I think.
A soft cool hand touches my shoulder
and whispers like the wind enter my ear.
Her perfume preceeds her words,
her intentions reflected ,
in the calming mist.
Like dust, sleep overcomes me,
as soft Secrets fill my thoughts,
the hand releases its elfin grip,

And I drift into sleep...

Marcus

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The Moonpool

It is a lazy, restful time
here in the forest glade.
The sun is departing, the stars arriving
and the trees are a darkening jade.

An air of buzzing, drowsing stillness
invades the meadow, lends weight to my head
as I settle down - bedroll, backpack
and strains of music are seemingly played.

A deep, cool, dark pool is here,
mirror clear, reflections of skies,
as peace fills my mind, my soul
and sleep gently touches my eyes.

I know not whether I was awake, or in dream
or how much time had passed,
when I felt the magic of this place
camped there, upon the grass.

No sounds - no crickets? (The Music!)
As the Moon awakens the pool, so bright.
Why this anticipation, premonition,
this magical feeling, this ghost haunted night?

Then, a siamese cat enters the meadow-
silver grey, regal compusure, flowing lines.
And somehow I know - I see intelligence
and wit, and power, as she looks into my eyes.

How does she speak without speaking?
But somehow, she communicates good will, and cheer.
'Stay quiet, childe of man.', she says.
'Be still - you are but a guest here.'

Then a parade of feline musicians
wandered in singing from the right.
I shake my head *bedazzled*; Am I dreaming, or mad?
Why me - here to witness this eldritch sight?
A troupe of dancing, cavorting gnomes
made their appearence upon a rocky stage.
And following them : silver clad, haughty elves
accompanied by a wizened old mage.

Now, many strange but noble presences made manifest
on that starlit night in June.
And I witnessed and heard sweet music, high magic, secrets
until dawn, with the passing of the Moon.

And the high bred Queen of Cat Folk
smiled with warmth, and left.
Left me shaking with these visions,
and nodding, I finally slept.

I return often to these stately woods, seeking
but never finding the sacred pool, so bright.
It makes me sad - very sad to think
that it was but a dream, a peculiar night.

But sometimes, at the edge of sleep,
soft music slowly beckons, and calls.
And I know with every fiber of my being
that I will again visit these magical sylvan halls

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An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic

Book: An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic by Aleister Crowley

In presenting this theory of the Universe to the world, I have but one hope of making any profound impression, viz.-that my theory has the merit of explaining the divergences between the three great forms of religion now existing in the world-Buddhism, Hinduism and Christianity, and of adapting them to ontological science by conclusions not mystical but mathematical.

Of Mohammedism I shall not now treat, as, in whatever light we may decide to regard it (and its esoteric schools are often orthodox), in any case it must fall under one of the three heads of Nihilism, Advaitism, and Dvaitism. Taking the ordinary hypothesis of the universe, that of its infinity, or at any rate that of the infinity of God, or of the infinity of some substance or idea actually existing, we first come to the question of the possibility of the co-existence of God and man.

Download Aleister Crowley's eBook: An Essay In Ontology With Some Remarks On Ceremonial Magic

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Love Secret

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.

by William Blake

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Introduction To The Elder Edda

Book: Introduction To The Elder Edda by John Ronald Tolkien

The Elder Edda is not a single continuous narrative, but a collection of poems, most of which are preserved in the Konungsbok, or Codex Regius (King's Book), copied in Iceland about A.D. 1270. The poems are the work of many poets. Their language suggests that they were composed between 800 and 1100 A.D. and first written down between 1150 and 1250 A.D. The poems are a rich source of Information for culture and belief among the Vikings. They are not, however, purely Scandinavian. Christian Irish influence is likely, while the Sigurd story draws on actual events among the tribes that invaded the Roman Empire between 350-600 A.D.

The Elder Edda first came to scholarly attention in the seventeenth century as antiquarian interest in the non-classical past was growing in Europe. It was published in its entirety just as intense romantic and nationalistic interest in the perceived tribal ancestors of the European nation states emerged towards the end of the eighteenth century. This interest, combined with the new science of philology, ensured popular and scholarly interest in texts like the Elder Edda. Some of the lays were available in bowdlerized versions even for children by the later nineteenth century. In the hands of Richard Wagner, the Elder Edda became the foundation of one of the century's masterpieces. While northern legends and the Scholarship based on it were misused by the Nazis to develop and further their ideas of race, they are seriously misrepresented by such ideas. In the 1960s, the poet W. H. Auden in collaboration with an Old Norse scholar, Paul B. Taylor, produced a Translation of sixteen of the poems.

Download John Ronald Tolkien's eBook: Introduction To The Elder Edda

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The Eddas The Keys To The Mysteries Of The North

Book: The Eddas The Keys To The Mysteries Of The North by James Allen Chisholm

This is a practical manual of self-transformation. It takes the form of a working edition of the mythological poems of the ancient Norse Poetic Edda for modern “pagans” who practice the magic and religion of the North. The poems of the Poetic Edda form the most complete and authentic body of surviving pre-Christian Germanic religious and magical lore. The mythological poems of the Elder Edda hold the keys to the Understanding and practice of the pre-Christian religion of the Germanic peoples. This book enables the reader to fathom the
mysteries of the Eddic poems so that the elder Troth of the Gods of Europe may again be rightly hailed in holy groves, and the Hidden Wisdom of the rune-masters rediscovered. This book is especially practical for those who wish follow the authentic pre-Christian religion and magic of the English and other Teutonic folk.

A new translation of the mythological poems of the Edda is the main component of this work. The religious content is revealed with accuracy and clarity. Earlier renditions have been artful paraphrases by scholars who valued the poems as literary monuments, but disregarded the religious and mythic content as the nonsensical but amusing folklore of a more primitive world. None of them ever imagined that their audiences would include practitioners of the Eddic religion. The inaccuracies of such translations have led many modern pagans astray. This is the truest translation for purposes of understanding the religious content of the Poetic Edda.

For the rune-magicians, poetry was a powerful form of magic. The Eddas hold the wisdom of the Erulian Rune-Magicians, and many of these poems may be fathomed to incredible depths and heights, by those who know how to ask. This book is about asking. These poems provide sufficient material for an accurate reconstruction and revivification of the Odian religious and magical philosophies. These poems hold spells, invocations, and lore from which rituals, sacred dramas, and initiatory rites can be reconstructed or authentically created, as well as the keys to understanding the soul and the nine worlds of Yggdrasil - the world tree of the ancient North. Many of the keys are provided also for unlocking the secrets of mysteries of the cults of Thor, Tyr and the Vanir, though much of this lore is filtered through an Odian lens.

The Eddic poems are spells, in which the mysteries of the old lore are encoded by word, rhythm, alliteration, idea, and rune. The words of a given stanza are not juxtaposed merely because the resulting rhythms and word plays are pleasing, but because of there are deep magical resonances among such words. The impact of these magical stanzas perhaps may not be registered consciously, but the magic of Eddic lines reaches far below the shallow waters of mundane conscious understanding into the depths of the collective unconscious, into the realms where our souls mingle with the realms of the Gods. The power of the Eddic verses can be used for invocations and magical operations. It is the task of the modern elders (priests) and vitkis (magicians) to gain a conscious knowledge of the meanings and powers of these combinations of word, meter and rune. The stanzas of the Eddic poems hold the secrets of our Gods. It is the task of this book to provide the modern seeker with the keys to understanding deeper levels of meaning and to encode these into modern English for fashioning invocations to the Gods and for shaping powerful poetic staves in magic.

Download James Allen Chisholm's eBook: The Eddas The Keys To The Mysteries Of The North

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Myths Of Northern Lands

Book review: Myths Of Northern Lands by Helene Adeline Guerber

The aim of this handbook of Northern mythology is to familiarize the English student of letters with the religion of his heathen ancestors, and to set forth, as clearly as possible, the various myths which have exercised an influence over our customs, arts, and literature.

As Norwegians, Danes, Swedes, Icelanders, Germans, English, and French all came originally from the same stock and worshiped the same gods, so these tales formed the basis not only of their religious belief, but also of their first attempts at poetry. They are the classics of the North, and deserve as much attention at our hands as the more graceful and idyllic mythology of the South.

The most distinctive traits of the Northern mythology are a peculiar grim humor which is found in the religion of no other race, and a dark thread of tragedy which runs throughout the whole woof. These two characteristics, touching both extremes of the scale, have colored Northern thought, and have left their indelible imprint upon all our writings even to this day. The mythology of Greece and Rome, growing as spontaneous and luxuriant as the tropical vegetation, came to its full fruition and began to decay before the introduction of Christianity. But Northern mythology, of slower growth, was arrested in mid-career before it had attained its complete development.

A glossary, and complete index have been added to adapt this book for general use in libraries and public schools. Author and publishers sincerely trust that little work will be as kindly received and as well appreciated as has been the case with its predecessor, “Myths of Greece and Rome,” the first volume of this series.

Download Helene Adeline Guerber's eBook: Myths Of Northern Lands
Keywords: magic and witchcraft  deities  kathryn paulsen  magick   asgard tales northern  

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