Imbolc 2023: A Praise Poem for the Goddess Brigid

If there’s one contemporary Pagan group that does online/Zoom rituals well, it’s Chicago’s own Wild Onion Grove of the ADF, an international Druid group. A lovely Imbolc ritual / devotional to the Celtic Goddess of Smithcraft, Poetry, and Healing—the Goddesss Brigid—just concluded a short while ago this afternoon. An hour prior to the 2 p.m. CST start time, the Lady of Awen came a-knockin’ on my noggin, and the following praise poem spilled out of me—longhand—and onto the pages of my legal writing pad.

I delivered the poem during the ritual as my chief offering to Her. Here it is:

Án Mórrígan: My Praise Poem/Ritual Invocation to the Great Irish Goddess of War and Prophecy, Samhain 2022

This is the most spiritually significant time of the year for me, Samhaintide. For many weeks I’ve been pondering the overlap in calendrical calculations of seasonal shifts as well as cultural customs between the ancient Celts and the Slavs. Any Celtic linguist as well as any modern Witch will tell you that the Gaelic Samhain denotes “Summer’s End,” and the time to honor the dead and prepare for the trying season of Winter occurs in early November.

“Proud to be a Virgo”: A Poem

“Alchemical Auras”

Happy Friday! We’re in the final week of National Poetry Month, and I wanted to share this little ditty I just wrote as I gear up for a tedious morning of client legal reviews (Zoom fatigue, anyone?) of my latest ad campaign. Here’s my poem; enjoy!

Hymn to Hekate

“Hymn to Hekate”

(c) A. Applegate 2017

 

We give greetings to fair Hekate,

Mighty monogenes--sole child of starry Asteria and the Son of Eurybia.

Titaness of the Threefold Realm of Earth, Sea, and Sky,

Revered above all the Ancient Powers by Olympos-dwelling Zeus Himself.

With pleasing eyes, accept our sacrifice

Hekate Khthonia,

Mistress of the Underworld surrounded by swarms of spirits,

And open the ways to the dreaded realm of Thy majesty,

O Brimo,

That we may claim our rightful power in service to Thee.

 

With pleasing eyes, accept our sacrifice

Hekate Krataiis,

Strong One of the Wine-Dark Sea,

Who birthed death-dealing Skylla,

And open the ways beneath the waves,

O She-Wolf, O Sea Wolf,

That we may draw into the depths of our being

Unending praise of Thee.

 

With pleasing eyes, accept our sacrifice

Hekate Soteira,

Queen of Angels, Savior of the World-Soul,

And open our ears to receive Thy counsel in the Music of the Spheres.

Hidden Hekate, fair of face,

Mighty Hekate, Lady of Power,

Lead us through the crossroads at the behest of Thy grace,

In our magical endeavors,

Help our workings to flower.

In heartfelt devotion,

We kneel before Thee,

Goddess Incomparable!

Io, Hekate!

My Hekate altar is the heart of my temple space. Photo (c) A. Applegate 2017.

Hymn to Hermes

“Hymn to Hermes”

(c) A. Applegate 2017

 

We give greetings to Hermes,

Clever Son of Zeus and Maia,

Wanderer of all the worlds

God of great cunning

Who, on His very first day of drawing breath,

Proved Himself a maker of music and mischief,

Strummer of the lyre,

Thief of the cattle of Apollon

The One Who achieves fame amongst the Gods by His deeds

The Prowler by night Who lurks in the street before the gates.

 

We hail holy Hermes

Who wards all wayfarers

Whether travelers for pleasure or commercial pursuits,

or those seized by thanatos

Who wend their way into dark caverns to be seated as guests

in Hades’ great, gilded halls

 

We hail Hermes Psychopompos,

His most sacred charge

Serve as our unerring Guide, our Companion, O Khthonios,

May Your lamps reveal the Mysteries

Glory gleaned in gloomy depths

To those ready to receive the Light of Your Wisdom

 

Hermes of Arkadia’s dawn

Hermes by Persephone’s shade

Be here with us as our magic is made!

 

Io, Hermes!

A Friday Invocation to Freyja

Note: A former coven mate of mine shared this with me–hence the British spelling and the Gardnerian references to scourging and the like. I cannot speak to this work’s true origins. 

“Tremors”

Published in the just-released Autumn issue of Isis-Seshat, whose theme is “Dark Nights of the Soul,” this poem of mine is also something I wanted to share here on my blog.

“Tremors”

 

I disassociated all the way home

 

Can’t stop shaking

Persephone’s Rising

By way of editorial comment: This poem of mine was published in Datura (2010), an anthology of Pagan poetry and essays by U.K.-based occult/esoterica powerhouse Scarlet Imprint.

*********

Persephone’s Rising

If the Ides of March are past

whence comes this heaviness of heart?

 

He said it would be like this

in the silver half-light

the chariot steeds splashed across the waves

of Acheron

then I tumbled headlong into Lethe

 

No forgetfulness, though,

for She Who Never Slumbers Above

yet she caused the earth to slumber

her own body to be ravaged by winter’s withering

force

Golden poppy tresses

trembling with rage

as I found a new half-life for myself

fructifying

the dead populace

and my beloved drank deeply

smeared himself

with my pomegranate juices

nectar more precious than wine, he said

 

Everything cavernous

cadaverous eye sockets

the mask of white loveliness

frozen onto my face like the folds of

the himation molded to my breasts

The pillars of this place

gleaming with the hope

of untold dreaming

the quiet denizens of this murk-world gape and shuffle towards me

arms outstretched

Mother

Queen

The curve of the sickle

Warm lap of abundance

Fertile in fallowness

Gaze not with the imperium of the Judge

but as an unconquerable Protectress

Hypnosis Naturalis

Restorative contact

Made in the refashioning of a wintry spell

A glimpse of reptilian hide

Beneath the dull gleam of the non-waves

Photo (c) by my friend Jovan Radakovich, http://www.countrad.blogspot.com

Forest hush interrupted

By startled stork wings

A white blur in treetops pricked by

Budding sensations

And why not delight

Despite the overhead cling of gray expanse

Unpenetrated by shaft of sun?

 

Why not delight

Despite the din of debris and

Slicked ghost swirls of stains

Upon the land’s liquid mirror?

 

Why not delight

In the midst of this yawning grave,

This unthinking hum of collective

Motion to nowhere?

 

Now here

is treasured medicine,

Spun by untold minds at dreaming’s dawn

 

Now here

is quickened lifeblood

Splashed against the haze of infinite crossroads

 

The gazes of gods guide my stumbling footsteps aloft.

 

Now.

 

Here.