Tag Archive | death

Hail, oh, Builder of Storms

You take your throne as winter comes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Secrets rest as the Dead rise up,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We the Lost who few can see,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We hear your call of winter winds,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
A fire lit that once was cold,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
On winter winds you find your own,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The year grows nigh as time does stop,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The time has come for cold Misrule,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Gates of Life and Gates of Death,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Flutter open to part the Veil,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Speak to me, oh cold Cold One,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Whom once rode forth all teeth and eyes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Your time has come, the dice are cast,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Coils of ice and coils of snow,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Serpent form among the trees,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The moving sway of Serpent hips,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Ice Queen sits as Hallow’s Eve,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Finds its way to All Hallow’s,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Regent sits high in the North,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And know her time has come again,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Hail to you Keeper of the Lost,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Hail to you who brings the tears,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pale Blue Flame of Winter’s Night,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We know your face and Serpent’s Tongue,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The cold Black Altar in the Hall of Stone,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Cutter there before the Black Gates,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Her Black Knife raised to cut the threads,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And Death’s wings spread beside the Gates,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
To guide the Living and the Dead,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
For now the Veil is open wide,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Gates are open and swing both ways,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Mighty Dead we praise tonight,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Blessed Dead we call your names,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Bloodline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Loreline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The pulsing call of Fateline blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Blood does call, it calls to Blood,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Bones do wake and speak once more,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Memory sleeps in sleeping Bones,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And Blood awakens the sleeping Bones,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And quickens now what once was dead,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
On altar top and in the Halls,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We call you now to come to us,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
To breathe again the breath we breathe,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And speak this night and speak again,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And as the Darkness now recedes,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
The Darkling Twin awaits the Bright,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Misrule reigns and all is Öð,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Öð and odd, and Wyrd and weird,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And may the Hunt now pass us by,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Or may we ride the frightful ride,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
By Winter’s Night and crossroad light,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And ghost roads stretch into the night,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And troll roads strange and faerie roads,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
That lead out there between the worlds,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Guide our way with lantern bright,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
We are the Lost, you children tonight,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Toss your dice for us just right,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
And may the year we now head to,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
Find the dreams the Dreamer dreamed,
Hail, oh, Builder of Storms,
This year manifest this next.

~Hail, oh, Builder of Storms, a Hallow poem by Bethany “Lorekeeper” Davis, November 1, 2015

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Watching the Sunrise Fade

I sit here, watching the sunrise fade to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering,
Remembering my childhood in the twilight of the gods,
The Destroyer raging across the land,
Remembering my teenage years in afternoon of the world,
As the glory of man faded, threatening to go out,
Remembering my early adult years in at high noon,
When man’s empires spanned the world,
Rising and falling and rising again,
I remember by middle years in the morning of the world,
As man learned to walk, to run, to farm,
And here I sit an old man, as the sunrise fades to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering,
The evening darkness lit as the sun sank and dusk came,
Brighter and hotter it got, as high noon approached,
And colder again as the sun rose from dawn,
Bringing me back here, to the first light, fading to night,
The cold winter warming as leaves rose to the trees,
Then turned from brown to yellow to green,
The crops fading from golden to bright green,
As they grew downward back toward the ground,
And the summer heat fading into spring,
The plants shrinking to buds, then sprouts, then barren ground,
As spring fades now back into winter,
As I sit, watching the sunrise fade to night,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering.
~Muninn’s Kiss, January 21, 2014, with a nod to T.H. White and Luke Bryan

The Crossroads of Life and Death

I hap’ed to meet Death once,
Along the Shining road,
I was going up it,
And he back down again,
Top o’ the mornin’ to ya,
I cheerfully put forth,
And the rest of the day to thee,
Came his grim reply,
I asked him how his business went,
If it was going well,
He answered it was booming,
Almost too much for him to do,
He asked me about the gleaming courts,
And if life there was good,
And answered as good as ever,
Though few notice none,
We chatted a bit and gossiped,
Shared a drink of whiskey strong,
Then both went on upon our ways,
Him down and me on up.
~Muninn’s Kiss, January 2, 2014

The Hunter’s Lamb

The Hunter’s Lamb
A Poem of Samhain
By Muninn’s Kiss

On a black altar on All Soul’s Night,
The Wounded Serpent makes last call,
He will not go down without a fight,
But he knows not enough will be hid all,
He howls defiance to the coming night,
But the Gates are open, he can hear the call,
The Horned Child pauses, about to strike,
He wants this death, he wants this fight,
A raised high sword, like a lightning flash,
But he’s still too slow for he missed the point,
A female figure all dressed in black,
A blood red veil, and a living knife,
With one fell slash, she takes a life,
Who was once her groom, now a sacrifice,
Blue blood runs from the Serpent’s throat,
His time is down, it is time to rest,
And with a knife still wet and a heavy heart,
She takes the arm of the fair Horned Child,
She leads him off to be the light,
Through winter’s darkness and the coldest night,
And the Serpent rests far beneath the Well,
A fitful slumber of dreams of spring,
He’ll awake again, and swim the Well,
A groom once more to a fickle Bride,
But for now in darkness that is but a dream,
With the Horned Child the victor upon the throne,
Through winter’s blanket and the barren land,
The Lord of Beasts and the Hunter’s Lamb.

A Story Told

A Story Told
By Muninn’s Kiss (2012-08-17)
A figure stands in red and black,
Before a black stone altar.
She does not move, does not act,
Does not so much as stir.
The deed’s been done, the knife has dropped,
The thread is already cut.
A life is done, the story ends,
Her role has all been done.
A figure stands all in black,
Dark robes hide his face.
His bone white hands as cold as death,
Stretch forth to welcome home.
A book is open in one wraith hand,
Chained firmly to his wrist.
His wings outstretched as black as night,
As he reads the final words.
The knife is sheathed, the book is closed,
The cave quiet like the grave.
The traveler waits for she knows not what,
Before the Gates of Death.
A laughter comes from a blood red veil,
Joined from a pure black hood.
Skeletal hands reach out, pull wide,
The Gates that all must face.
Blinding light, brighter than the sun,
That blind the traveler.
Darkest dark, that can be felt,
Brings a chill to every bone.
First one step, and then another,
She walks toward the gap.
And slips on past to death’s embrace,
Where Light and Darkness merge.

If I Were to Die in Battle

If I Were to Die in Battle
By Munin’s Kiss

If I were to die in battle,
Who would invite me home?
Would it be Odin or would it be Freyja,
Whose hall I’d be taken to?

Would Odin want me,
Would I make the cut?
Am I the type he’d want,
To be fighting by his side?

Would Freyja have me,
Would I feast in her halls?
Would she find me worthy,
To lend her my sword?

The two they stand together,
Ready to make the choice,
Him with his initiator,
Her initiator with her.

As the Valkyries fly me closer,
I can’t help but think,
Is it them that make the decision,
Or was it always my choice.

Sub Rosa

Sub Rosa
By Muninn’s Kiss

Around the Altar, the roses lay,
Blood red pedals and black of night,
A black stone Altar, absorbing light,
Dark stone tower, a hollow cave,
Upon the Altar, they laid me down,
In black, black robes my hands are tied,
Head laid back, stretched out flat,
Two coins are placed upon my eyes,
Beneath the gold, in shadows black,
The Twins they dance and in my laugh,
She stands above me, her robes jet black,
Her veil of red so loosely hangs,
A dagger black she raises high,
Blackthorn rod it passes forth,
Down and down comes the blade,
My life it passed but was long long gone,
Upon the Altar where they had me lie,
Among the roses both black and red.