secrets openly hidden

Pine cones leaning,
standing,
sitting buddha-like along the path —
monuments to beetles,
whole planets to fleas,
menorah-like jewels to my own eye.

I can’t get over how they wait.
So quiet here in the still woods.
On what secret do they attend?

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Slow Soft Flame of Autumn

Wind rolls through these leaves
in long exhalations
as Atlas labors at the wheel that
turns the seasons —

now from the last gleam of summer
into full autumn.

Leaves in maples reflect fires
in the furnace that fuels this
great onward rush

grasses, twigs, and vines
once succulent with the rising
springs of the vernal blush

now grow dry and thin
in the heated languid haste
as Cronos devours what was wrought.

Bees crowd the buds of honeysuckle
entwining the old pine,
collecting all they can carry;

hornets mob a dead bird’s carcass
ravenous before the urge
of their own inward clock;

and two squirrels argue
from opposite sides of the wood
as they bustle through the mass
of detritus, caching winter stores

or up the boles of oaks with
loads of pine-straw to build
with haste a stout shelter

to stand against the coming
autumn winds and winter
hail and rain.

I find myself dizzy
with the intoxication
of aging detritus and orchard fruits

the dazzling kaleidoscopic pin-wheels of
wind-spun autumn leaves

and I feel too far behind in all that must
be done to even begin — so

I wander the woods and the orchard
until a need appears and
with a smile I attend to it,

all the while imbibing the slow
dreams of all that fast approaches sleep.

Above these visions I float
like the moon above the water —
I taste but do not enter the feast.

That doorway has closed for me.

Instead I wander
with a song in silence
as behind me the path blooms
in slow soft flame.

Posted in Autumn, Poetry | 2 Comments

After Halloween

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Hallowed Moon

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March of the Wicked Demise

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John De Lancie Reads “The Raven”

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Samhain

Halloween, Samhain, the ancient rite
which alone on the calendar boldly sees the night
with all its hidden, suppressed and fearsome fright
and in ghoulish guise or sepulchral facade
sees and smiles at death’s inevitable bite.

Portals dark, shadowed cyprus, weathered tombstone, spectral glow,
flickering bat that flits and flees,
drooping trees in stilted breeze,
all dwell beneath what one claims to know —

the hidden realm immense and looming below,
the Id, the unconscious, the failed ideal,
all that luminous thought cannot reveal —
the endless descent,
the bewildering torment,
all the philosophers who fell unfulfilled
their thoughts like muddy rain running beneath the barrow hill,
sages and monks, and shamans and priests —
hungry ghosts upon their withered bones feast.
Kings and stars of beauty and power
haunt only empty halls, thankless and dour.

The majesty of the play of Samhain eve
is through merriment death’s burdens to relieve
and with sacred reflection to open and retrieve
immortality’s hidden power which no shuttered mind can conceive.

____________________________________

by Kevin Trammel

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Dance Macabre for Samhain

Listen to Dance Macabre, it really is a wonderful, evocative piece.

About the composition

Danse Macabre (by Camille Saint-Saëns)
Danse Macabre (the Poem)

On Youtube

Danse Macabre – Saint-Saëns
National Philharmonic Orchestra

An English translation of the poem upon which the piece is based

Zig, zig, zig, Death in cadence,
Striking a tomb with his heel,
Death at midnight plays a dance-tune,
Zig, zig, zag, on his violin.
The winter wind blows, and the night is dark;
Moans are heard in the linden trees.
White skeletons pass through the gloom,
Running and leaping in their shrouds.
Zig, zig, zig, each one is frisking,
You can hear the cracking of the bones of the dancers.
A lustful couple sits on the moss
So as to taste long lost delights.
Zig zig, zig, Death continues
The unending scraping on his instrument.
A veil has fallen! The dancer is naked.
Her partner grasps her amorously.
The lady, it’s said, is a marchioness or baroness
And her green gallant, a poor cartwright.
Horror! Look how she gives herself to him,
Like the rustic was a baron.
Zig, zig, zig. What a saraband!
They all hold hands and dance in circles.
Zig, zig, zag. You can see in the crowd
The king dancing among the peasants.
But hist! All of a sudden, they leave the dance,
They push forward, they fly; the cock has crowed.
Oh what a beautiful night for the poor world!
Long live death and equality!

-Henri Cazalis

Posted in Halloween (Samhain) | 2 Comments

Incantation of the Hollow Moon

The orange gourd rattles in a spectral sky
Shadowed shrouds of mist from icy fields fly
Heaven’s hollow dome coldly echoes a strange cry
Dreams once hopeful wingless by dark stones lie.

 

_________________

by Kevin Trammel

Posted in Halloween (Samhain), Incantation | 2 Comments

Crème Du Halloween

A modest recipe for Halloween (from a previous post).

Crème Du Halloween
by Kevin Trammel

One gob pickled innards,
Ten drops black bat glop,
An ooze of dead men’s gizzards—
Stir, pour, and chop.

Add a pinch of spider’s eyes,
Garnish with false alibis,
Serve atop aged, rotting flesh.
Best when eaten fresh.

A note to the prudent host or hostess:
If your guests should hesitate,
And grimace, gasp, wax quite irate,
Bring out the severed fingers plate,
With chocolate sauce and sugar cake.

Bon Appetit!

Posted in Halloween (Samhain), Holiday, Poetry | 2 Comments

Incantation of a Dark Seduction

Long purple fingers of creeping mist
Black trees before an orange moon list
Warmth and light of day could not resist
Entranced all fall toward a shadow tryst.

 

____________________________
by Kevin Trammel

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Deathly Discourse

“Eat some candy– THINK OF DEATH.” -Caitlin Doughty

WEBSITE: http://www.orderofthegooddeath.com

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Lovely Ossuaries and Charnal Houses

Empire de la Mort

While you contemplate mortality, immortality, and wonder about ghosts and pretas, this Halloween, visit some of the world’s Beinhouses.

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Halloween Nap

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Halloween Feast

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Incantation of the Hallowed Reaping

Red demons by a roaring fire leap
Gathering power outside the sleeping town’s keep
Summoning Hell’s hounds from caverns deep
Readied now to scythe and reap.

 

______________________________
by Kevin Trammel

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Devil’s Due

Hallowe’en Rhapsody
by Kevin Trammel
Written while listening to Tartini’s Devil’s Trill

The Devil crouches low
in the dry moonless field
and watches with wide black eyes
the dim lights of the house in the wood.

Plucking foxtail from his wool
he slowly chews and spits and chuckles.
Twisting his beard absently he turns
to whisper orders to his messenger hellhound.

His voice rasps in the night
like a violin bow dragged dryly
over a rusting weather-cock − birds
startled fly from their leaf-wrapped night-beds.

Inside the house, laughter, reminiscences.
A drink of wine, a swallow of apple.
A fond story told of future days.
A memoriam chanted over hallowed ground.

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Samhain Fire-Dance

Art By Kevin Trammel

View other artwork by Kevin Trammel.

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The Devil’s Trill

Le_Songe_de_Tartini_par_Louis-Léopold_Boilly_1824.jpg

“One night, in the year 1713 I dreamed I had made a pact with the devil for my soul. Everything went as I wished: my new servant anticipated my every desire. Among other things, I gave him my violin to see if he could play. How great was my astonishment on hearing a sonata so wonderful and so beautiful, played with such great art and intelligence, as I had never even conceived in my boldest flights of fantasy. I felt enraptured, transported, enchanted: my breath failed me, and – I awoke. I immediately grasped my violin in order to retain, in part at least, the impression of my dream. In vain! The music which I at this time composed is indeed the best that I ever wrote, and I still call it the “Devil’s Trill”, but the difference between it and that which so moved me is so great that I would have destroyed my instrument and have said farewell to music forever if it had been possible for me to live without the enjoyment it affords me.” -Giuseppi Tartini

__________________

A truly entrancing, even bewitching, performance of the “Devil’s Trill” is here (in the above referenced wikipedia article about Tartini’s Devil’s Trill):  Performance of the Devil’s Trill Sonata by Caroline Goulding (violin) and Shuai Wang (harpsichord) from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in MP3 format (wikipedia article ibid.)

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Spirits Not Bargained For

Haunted Irish Pub in Seattle.

“Before Kells Irish Pub in Seattle became a charming family-run bar, it served as a waiting room for  the afterlife — a mortuary purpose-built to handle [a] flood of dead bodies produced by plague, mining accidents and violence in the early 1900s.

The owners of the bar say a piece of that dark history has clung to their humble establishment, meaning the haunted pub serves up a host of spirits, along with pints of beer.

Bartenders, patrons and ghost hunters all claim to have seen specters of ghosts at the pub late at night.”

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2120147/Haunted-Irish-pub-sits-site-1900s-Seattle-mortuary.html#ixzz1qRQTIc00

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