Posts Tagged ‘spells’


Here are some flashing, slippery shoals of words trawled from scrawled diaries. They come from the same period, around 2007, but are in my mind as we have just returned from a teaching trip to Japan. The world has moved on: media feeding on juicier, more ephemeral pastures, people tired of the same terror, the same politics. But there, they live with invisible threats of death, unknown forces foisted, though accepted, by those whose microscopic arrogance allows the possibility of endless rot to infest all future histories. Plutonium is not an “acceptible risk”…….

Spells are songs that sink below the surface to the deepest tides of Mind. If nothing else they bring strength and succour. The only thing we may possibly, ultimately control is our own orientation, our own perspective. Hope is a self-replicating energy. Language is its vehicle. Please use these words if you need to raise your energy integrity.

As usual, most of the charms and spells flow from the English and British traditions of pagan Celt and Anglo-Saxon. They flow from the bardic perception of the weaving of words is equivalent to the weaving of worlds. Resonance that leaps off one tongue into listening, nodding minds. Resonant because it carries the echoes of numberless generations of ancestors and forebears….



Listen the way is
Cold. It burns, in
darkness, the treasure
Hid in secret.

Advice to act according
To Nature’s law.
Revealed to memory,

Ask the way.
The unexpected
Can be seen, treasure

Hold steady,
Will bring completion.

Words (spells) and actions
Break down rigidities.
Fire brings light
To see what is yours (true treasure)
Can be uncovered.


Thorn to throne:
What hinders hides.
Hard turns haven, harbour,
Well-woven, wrought right.
The road ready,
Naught stays,
Sleek, slender, slides safely.

Before stands day’s door:
A way.
Sunlight’s splendour,
Storm’s silence.

Giant becomes stone
Stone becomes ice
Ice melts to water
Water sinks to earth
Seed stirs strong
Green shoot of life.

Snake sloughs skin.
River of sunlight:
Golden road
Glory road.
Sun’s shaft
Breaks cloud.


Song called shield.
Three times cast,
Three times it falls short:
No way through.
The song called shield
Is strong as rock,
Strong as air,
Strong as water,
Strong as fire,
Will not break
Will not shatter.
Shielding safe:
Strong shelter
Breath of life,
Never faltering.
Blood of life,
Never stilling.
Heart of life,
Never stilling.
Heart of life,
Strong and safe.
Singing the song called shield.
The earth is my witness,
Never shall it fail.



From here our souls reach out
From here our spirits reach out
From here our hands reach out
From here our voices reach out.
We are the star protectors
Present within the smallest dust of life,
In the moment of dissolution,
In the second of creation,
In the breath between breathing
Regardless of time
Regardless of space
The well of light
Sustains all
Look up
Look in
Look out
Insistent dwellers of forever,
From here we begin.



No words
No thoughts
Breathing in
Breathing out.
Stars, songs,
Memories, feelings.
Not choosing
But life flows through me.
Not choosing
But power flows through me.
Not choosing
I am sustained.
Not choosing
But all dissonances
Fall away.
Not choosing
But falling into harmony.
Not choosing
Not moving
Not deciding
Not thinking
Not speaking.
Breathing time,
Breathing light,
Breathing stars.



Sky is blind eyes
Earth is cold bones
Night birds
Night birds
Cold wind crumples leaves.



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Some scribblings and scratchings from a little while ago. The style is somewhat influenced by Old English herb charms and medieval Scottish /Celtic Church prayers. In the old days a spell and a prayer were the same thing, except that one had the backing of the Church and the other was regarded as ‘work o’ the De’el’. Just a matter of attitude really. A spell derives from the Germanic root meaning to sing, charm, enchant.

Poets and bards aim to enchant their listeners – putting their own thoughts, emotions and pictures in other people’s heads. A skill worthy of honour and gold in the old days. The druids’ little ditties could overthrow kings, raise armies, placate wrath, wither with shame, heal, bless and drive away sorrow. Art with function, or, the function of art.

Much of the old style verse was oblique, referring to tales everyone knew, associations that were obvious, taking words from sacred texts and using them directly or paraphrasing in a knowing way. To us they may seem archaic, episodic, sketchy but their creators knew the language of the deep mind, how to create resonance and emotion that evaded the smartass conscious mind, stirring things on the edges of sight, the boudaries between memory and dream.

Most of the words that flow into my head, do so of their own accord, and stay or leave, of their own accord. Sometimes we are able to be quiet enough to listen to what the world is singing, the spells that maintain, polish and exalt creation.

We are the dust that sings,
That is what we do best….


The Pleasurable Joy of Insignificance.

A seed on the breeze
Safe, floating
Away from reach

So small
In the hands of the world

So safe
Amidst the cloak of stars

So small
So safe
No threat

Floating free
Insignificant joy
Sparkle of bliss.




Bright warriors,
As birds at dawn
Flying across the sun;
Sparks across the water –
Stars in daylight.

Alders by the ford
Birches on the mountainside
Oaks holding the green valley.

Bright warriors,
Upholding the sky
Feeling the turning world
Achieving balance
Famed for illuminated brows
Standing in the right place
Invincible as sunlight.




Two ravens
Flying out of the sunset.

Nothing special,
But lingering resonance.

Thoughts and memories carried on light wings
Nothing special
But emergent patterns.

The end of the day, the long fade to night
Nothing special
Emergent patterns
Subsiding cadence
Nothing special.

Tasting life flowing
From here to there
Flying out of the sunset
Into the night.


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