Midsummer's Eve Full Moon
Wednesday 23rd 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 24th June by the church and adopted the mid Summer festival. As evening precedes day the poem is set at sundown on the 23rd.
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
A reading of Eluene with some friends in a virtual pub and
at about 2 1/2mins the poem Poesity Chat Up
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIqhh1AlZjo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3FlqaEXNKY
Bare in mind that I have had a pint of something strong.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB6HVpgjJlk&list=PLW6ghSB6vp60MVcSUQWwF-hnEKfYWv0kU&index=9
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYY0qj72RvQ&list=PLW6ghSB6vp60MVcSUQWwF-hnEKfYWv0kU&index=2
In the ever still, soft Lunar landscape,
strange flicker appears, in corner of eye.
Hidden spirits seen, in a moon day dream,
of ashen landscape, and obsidian sky.
The sound of breathing, masks stillness around,
Selene's still spectres, are shy to appear.
Behind a grey rock, or in crater deep,
on distant mountain, on dry distant sphere.
Moon apparitions, in long Lunar night,
stark Earthshine shadows, on grey basalt rock.
Strange spangle flicker, on regolith plain,
while back connecting, your spacesuit to dock.
On the distant dry, other airless world,
those silent spirits, form a link between,
Chang'e and Zorya, Selene and Luna,
mankind and moonscape, whilst staying unseen.
The longer your stay, the more that you see,
to Earth sick veterans, shy phantoms emerge.
Conjured Selenites, called into being,
change and movement, the need and the urge.
Introduction
Sometimes when one changes one's gaze or looks around, you may see a movement but when you look again, you see that there is nothing there. If you wear glasses, this tends to happen more often due to reflections.
On the moon, one is always looking at the surface through a glass visor or window.
I predict that when we have a long-stay presence on the moon that our need to see movement coupled with the unchanging stillness of the lunar landscape and occasional flickers in the peripheral field of vision could become interpreted as Lunar Phantoms.
This poem puts a pagan spin on this.
Copyright Andrew Rea Candlemas 2021
I was working on the thingy today,
when the whatsit refused to display.
I checked the network what-d'you-call-it,
it had lost connection to the widget.
So I opened and clicked on the whatnot,
and reconnected to the thingamabob.
But the gizmo thingy oh what's-its-name,
was still going round and round just the same.
So I pulled the little Thingamajig out,
stuffed it in the whojar and gave it a clout.
But the thingamabob was going very slow,
perhaps its that downloading gadget, d'oh!
So I opened up the thingummy app,
Got the download thingy to take a nap.
But did the paraphernalia go,
correctly to the recipient, d'oh!
So I clicked on the email whojimaflip,
and checked the gubbins box on the side strip.
The widget was in the draft contraption box,
so its back to the beginning, oh pocks!
Copyright Andrew Rea Candlemas 2021
On the dry heath, people frolic and play,
laughing and lively shouting.
Plenty of movement, much running about,
the children's kite outing.
Gently walking down, to the fairy gate,
the wind drops in the glade.
Approaching the gap, in the spellbound hedge,
the sound begins to fade.
Entering the hedge, haunted leaves above,
an eerie silence to share.
Half a step further, in fairy abode,
a chill hangs in the air.
In charmed centre, of the hidden portal,
dark moister all around.
A tingle running, creeping down the spine,
quiet chill silent sound.
Tiptoeing over, magic causeway path,
fairy power in the air.
The portal across, to the other side,
fairy footpath shady dare.
Slowly stepping out, of fairy portal,
folk are quietly sitting.
Balmy air on cheek, the light breeze returns,
peacefulness permitting.
Copyright Andrew Rea January 2021
Introduction
This poem is written about a Fairy Gate that I found on Hampstead Heath a few years ago and describes what I and others have experienced walking through the portal on a summers day. All the effects seem to be real, changes in wind, sound, temperature, humidity and light. On the other side people are seen to be calmer.
Now most of this can be put down to simple geological science, but for me it's a Fairy Gate.
