Mid-Summers Eve in Town

 

 At the time of Henry VIII

 

As sun goeth down, on feast of Saint John,

Over proud street doors, oak branches appear.

Merry stout benches, are carried to street,

From branch decked doors, come gallons of beer.

 

Giggling young girls, with flowery garlands,

Frolicking men with, their large leafy crown.

Exuberant groups, of jovial folk,

In summery best, parade round the town.

 

As deep darkness falls, long touches are lit,

Rowdy crowds carry, fierce fiery staves high.

Flaming fagots start, to flicker in street,

The boisterous antics, amid the loud cry.

 

Dashing and dancing, to beat of tabor,

Bon fires spark and blaze, their flickering light.

Round pretty foreheads, of maids garlands twine,

As heavenly stars, begin to shine bright.

 

People crowd benches, and bowers in street,

Lucky flowers strewn, on twilight bench.

Green apple peals thrown, on the ground to read,

Some future husband's, letter to sense.

 

Let's all make merry, wassail this short night,

We raise and clash tankards, with cheerful high head.

Till dawn and sleep rob us, of festivity,

Creeping to oak branch, decked Mid-Summer bed.

 

Copyright Andrew Rea Winterfelleth 2022

The Jolly Meadow

 

The Jolly Meadow

Rambling through, the whispering weeds,

Crackling cowslip, scattering seeds.

Bumbling bees, beneath poplar trees,

Grumbling foxglove, sway in the breeze.

 

Ringing hare bells, making their sound,

Silth celandine, carpet the ground.

Pealing poppies, and talking trefoil,

Yabing yarrow, rise from the soil.

 

Bubbling buttercups, shouting shoots,

Dandelions with, their long tap roots.

Singing sorrel and Humming hemlock,

Tripping trefoil, and lady’s smock.

 

Yellow turrets of, tinkling toad flax,

With whistling vetch, in sun relax.

Swishing sweet peas, babbling blue bells,

Phonic primroses casting their spells.

 

Mumbling meadow sweet, waft the air,

Composing campanula, trumpets blare.

Roaring ragwort ,and hushed heartsease,

Grumpy grass pollen, makes you sneeze.

 

Singing nettles, hikery dicory dock,

Slowly wafting, white scented stock.

Rattled red clover, beneath the feet,

Cackling corn cockle, in fields of wheat.

 

Bountiful blue bells, and Monks Hood,

Murmuring mushrooms, hide in the wood.

Curious corn flowers, look amazed,

Cleaver clover, with daises dazed.

 

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2022

Will-o'-the-wisp

 

Over marshy ground, and dark boggy plain,

There dances a light, a flickering flame.

A will-o'-the-wisp, so eerie and bright,

Guiding lost souls through, the darkest of night.

 

With its ghostly glow, colours blue and green,

It travels about, its sly spectral scene.

A tempting allure, for those who may stray,

Leading from the path, to the land of fay.

 

But do beware for, this flickering light,

Is not what it seems, in the dead of night.

It's a trickster's game, a malicious sprite,

A devious dance, that leads one at night.

 

Yet, still it dances, that will-o'-the-wisp,

A haunting sylth sight, that's hard to resist.

A mystery that, captivates the mind,

An enigma of, nature for mankind.

 

So let it dance forth, that flickering flame,

A reminder of, nature's ancient game.

Symbol of mystery, and wonder untold,

The will-o'-the-wisp, a spectre of old.

A warm sunny day - what is it and how to cope

Good day, I am from the ministry of weather. Now I know that many of you out there will have been somewhat perplexed by the warm sunny spell that we recently experienced.

So this is a public information message to reassure you.

Part one - how to recognise a warm sunny day
A sunny day is a period of more than one hour when the big yellow thingy in the sky is not hidden by grey fluffy things. Warm is when you are able to remove a garment without immediately freezing.

Part two - background to the situation
Sometimes on rare occasions in the UK, mostly during the Summer time, we see the big yellow thingy against a blue background.

Part three - what to do
First off, do not panic! This is not the first time it has happened. Check this out on Wiki.
After a while, we start to lose touch with what a warm sunny day actually means.
Sometimes, the sun is so large and all-encompassing that we struggle to put it into words. Just sit down with a long cool drink and let it slowly sink in.

Part four - seeking help
The most effective way to do this is to phone a friend. Meet together and offer each other support or perhaps consider using a park bench for support.

Part five - make the most of it
It’s worth taking stock of what this latest crisis actually means for you and what you can do to help you cope. Find a nice spot beneath a leafy tree and sit on the grass. This is the unique time to actually enjoy having ice in your drink, yes I know this will come as a shock! But ice in drinks is not always a punishment inflicted on patrons by the hospitality industry.

Then whip out a cucumber sandwich from your lunch box and eat it. For the best results cut the crusts off and cut the sandwich diagonally into quarters.

Finally enjoy the moment because that may be all you get for a while. Never fear, the grey things will soon return and cover the blue bit and the sunny bit will disappear for a vey long time.

A Poem for the Ukraine 

 

Ye powerful hags, of the Northern hills,

Rid our friends of, their terrible ills.

I doth here invoke, and call upon ye,

Ye hags rough ride out, return and help me.

 

Oh thou cavalcade, of women riding,

Dreadful shield-maidens, the battle deciding.

Defend our Ukraine, from Putin attack,

Help us overthrow, and send them back.

 

Tha mihtigan wif, return to us now,

Dreadful Wælcyrige, protect them somehow.

With ragged garments, and thine linden shield,

Like devils ride out, on this battle field.

 

Oh ye Haegtesse, with helmets on head,

Fill our enemies, with thine battle dread.

Ride ye loudly through, fair country again,

Through heathen sky come, cast out the profane.

 

May din of thine spears, force army to flea,

Thunor's magic spear, from ash the world tree.

Females from beyond, return to help me,

May all sacred country be Putin free!

Introduction (this poem was first published on my Facebook page on 1st March 2022)

During WWII there existed a squadron of Ukrainian female fighter pilots known as нічні відьми (night witches). They flew at night reaching the enemy at dawn with the sun behind them. They were much feared and were very successful in their raids.

This poem employs the somewhat unusual construct of invoking an Anglo-Saxon mythical group akin to the night witches to come to our aid and help defeat the invading armies in Ukraine.

The Haegtesse were wild, armed supernatural women riding out in a group and causing harm havoc and mayhem! But were also known to help warriors on the battlefield and hinder others. These Supernatural cavalcades rode loudly over the landscape. They were also referred to as ‘ða (tha) mihtigan wif’ (the mighty women) and were seen as a cavalcade of riding women shooting its victims.

In some documents the word Haegtesse was used as a scan for Wælcyrige, sometimes the term ‘shield-maidens’ was employed. From the word Haegtesse we also derive the word hag used in Saxon times to describe a witch.

 Me performing a new poem or two at Highgate Poetry Society this December. The poems:

Poetry Today

First Footing on New Years Eve

Merry Christmas

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Midsummer's Eve Full Moon

 

Midsummer's Eve Full Moon

Wednesday 23^rd June 723

As sun he goes down, on glad Wodnesdaeg,

The twenty third day, Ærra Litha hewn.

Begins joyful eve, of feast of Saint John,

On the bright night, of the merry Hay Moon.

The Midsummer's Eve, also a full moon,

At twilight the powers, are at their height.

Three liminal moments, captured in one,

Light fires to keep, the night warm and bright.

Staying up jolly late, greet Midsummer's Day,

Gathering herbs, and flowers to protect.

From evil spirits, and wanton fairies,

Young maidens with yellow garlands bedecked.

Folk a gathering, yellow 'chase-devil',

Drunken debauchery, into the night.

Deep dusky twilight, magic and ritual,

Our ancient rapturous, Midsummer rite.

Copyright Andrew Rea, Æfterra Litha 2021

Introduction

This was Midsummers Eve, a full moon and at evening twilight became a triply auspicious moment. This was the last time this would happen before conversion to Christianity became complete, as this triple liminal moment would not occur again until 788.

One of the most powerful plants was known as ‘chase-devil’, now called St John’s Wort.

Wodnesdaeg is of course Wednesday or Wodens day.

Ærra Litha is June.

The feast of Saint John was set on the 24^th June by the church and adopted the mid Summer festival. As evening precedes day the poem is set at sundown on the 23^rd.

There were 17 Midsummers Eve full moons in the Anglo-Saxon Christian era:

609 Monday, 674 Friday, 693 Monday

712 Thursday, 723 Wednesday, 788 Monday

807 Wednesday, 826 Saturday, 845 Tuesday, 864 Friday

902 Wednesday, 921 Saturday, 959 Thursday, 978 Sunday, 997 Wednesday

1016 Sunday, 1035 Tuesday

I have stopped at 1066