The Gathering

The Gathering

Beaming Luna full and bright,
Parades forth in the starry night,
With garments silver and milky white,
Holding high her torch of pale moon light.

Young Puck decked in ivy green,
Gathers the wily ones unseen,
And with oaken wand summons the dream,
As he goes to meet the shining Queen.

And as the Queen draws near the glade,
The Dryad women awake to aide,
And begin their sweet serenade,
In beautiful flower garlands arrayed.

Puck flies through the woods and dales,
Drumming on trees and calls as he sails,
Awakening green men of the olden tales,
And swarthy satyrs from the hidden trails.

And the merry dancing party draws near,
The place of magic and mischief so dear,
The Queen and the dryads with singing clear,
The satyrs play pipes for all to hear.

Puck waves his oaken wand and laughs,
Revealing a circle of stones with his crafts
In the center a pile of woodsmen’s shafts,
Lit in a bonfire its green smoke wafts.

Then the satyrs upon their pipes chime,
Wilts green men on drum log keep time,
The dryad women with song and rhyme,
Celebrate Midsummers ever sublime,

Then pixie fearies from the pink lily,
And little elves dressed in coats so frilly,
The blue Nereids from the water chilly,
All dance to the fire and tune so silly,

Then the satyrs let the others play,
To reveal their gift for this special day,
The mead of joy from the buds of may,
That loosen lips and laughter so gay,

The small elves bring savory meats,
The pixies nectar and honeyed sweets,
The Dryads fresh baked breads and treats,
And all drink the mead and heartily eats.

As the evening star comes overhead,
The Queen says what must be said,
“Welcome all who partake of our bread,
To the gathering at Midsummer’s head!”



So this idea came to me a while back when I was talking to some friends about a Midsummer's Eve party. Later someone asked me what a Midsummer's Eve Party would look like and this was the first thought that came to mind, the classic Greco-Roman idea that was later incorproated into the Elizabethian and Victorian Eras.

Today on the bus I started writing it with the lines:

The serene queen of the night light,
The soon moon with her trail so pale.

And this led to me starting to play a poetry game. Its very simple, choose any two words then make a rhyme with as many words that rhyme with just the first word and end it with the last. NO USING A RHYME GUIDE!!!

eg: cursed blood

The cursed verse speaking words so tirs, though lips are persed for fear of the worst, if I dirs't call first the hurrying hurst and awaken the thirst of blood.

Its fun but hard too. Anyway, back to the poem. I'm thinking that this will be one of three poems set during this party. This is 'the gathering', when all the supernatural sprites arrive and set everything up. The next part would be 'the hunt', when the humans arrive and partake in the ancient ceremony of hunting the white stag. Not sure how it will end... human sacrifice comes to mind... maybe I need to stop reading all those Mayan mythological texts...

:D