Burn the Betony

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Burn the betony and beat the Beltane drum
Let your lungs cry out and shout
There’s a mighty magic moot on the moor tonight
From the shadow take the staff and let it shine
Waft the wand and wake the wizard from his sleep
See how the shaking signal of the dowsing stick calls out for song
Bump start the broom, come join the band where you belong

Fan the flames to feel the heat from the festive fire
Wave the blazing torches in the evening air
Cast each component for the charm, be clear in your intent
Make a space within the bubble before the cauldron bursts
Hasten before you hear the hammer raise a summer storm
Perform your art, respect the craft, then watch the mountain move
Open wide the coven doors, for there’s a point to prove

Wind the spiral in and out, smile and lift the shroud
Beware the marshland morning mist when you tread the mystic maze
Take your lantern to the labyrinth, listen for the legend’s life
Gwyn ap Nudd is king tonight, Rhiannon rides between the worlds
Make a tryst, if you so wish, with the extended hand
Take the lifeline of the night-time, draw power from the moon
Yes, burn the betony, bump start the broom !

© David Hopcroft January 2002

A poem from my past.

Perspectives in Life

Perspectives in life

Olga could only see the street as boarded up doors

Through broken windows dust-covered carpets on floors

The people she rarely spoke to and described them as bores

They had coloured skin a strange language and different laws

Olga could only see the litter dropped on the street

Hated the corners where those in ragged clothes would meet

As far as she was concerned their lives she would delete

She wanted the glitter and glamour of the city light

The neon light the action of the clubs at night

Gifts of expensive dresses from men were her delight

She searched so hard for the man who might

Tanya saw the queue outside the chapel for the soup

She saw distress and volunteered for the kitchen group

Felt good when she helped a young child mend a hoop

Told the little girl in rags that she looked cute

She gave her time to help clear litter from the street

She was soon joined by others that she would meet

Helped with the construction of the old ones’ seat

Joined in to help the young form a club at night

Shared their music and saw joy and delight

One showed selfishness and the other sowed God’s seed

Where one felt only greed the other so clearly saw need

Copyright: David Hopcroft May 2024

Sometimes I am shocked to read or see posts that denigrate an area and do not see they spread discord and hate. Communities are built around love and care and we need to find that not run away from the need.

Just another needle in the arm

Just another needle in the arm

She loved her first shot the one that made her high

She danced away the night flying in the sky

She had no thoughts that the future could mean harm

She was celebrating her first needle in the arm

He’d offered her that first shot for free

Now she needs the needle to fulfil a destiny

She fails to see there is a reason for alarm

For it’s just another needle in the arm

Now she’ll do anything for anyone at any time

When she’s desperate and without a dime

Her brain is red and foggy without calm

As she seeks another needle in her arm

She’s addicted and she’s craving for the next fix

Another victim of the dealer’s sadistic tricks

She left the rehab unit then gave in to his charm

For just another needle in the arm

Her tortured life is now lived beyond the fringe

She’s married to the needle and the syringe

She’s walking up the road to the funny farm

Ever since she had that first needle in her arm

Life from her body now is slowly draining

With so little of her existence now remaining

A victim of addiction living in the dealer’s palm

On her headstone they carved a needle in her arm

Copyright: David Hopcroft April 2024