~The Upright Dead~

Their mouths move, but nothing gets said
I can see them now, the upright but dead

Giggling and giddy, filled with heavenly cheer
Offering to pray for everyone here

Look in their eyes and shocked you will be
For there is no soul in there to see~

They’re occupied, or missing, or bloodlessly gone
All I can feel is the ground that I walk upon~

The sun on my face, the bird on a limb,
The rabbit, the raven, the brown winged wren

So~ evermore life goes on
The stars will burn, the earth will turn~

While everyone is dizzy busy and swell
Zombies all pining for heaven~while living in hell~


~The Ole Witch~

Tis not easy being a witch
So many want you to scratch their itch

Woe is me, for I work nights
Riding my broom at lofty heights

Women all want a love true spell
Men tell me I’ll go to hell

Herbs and magick, one two three
It’s not that easy to be me

Dashing around here and there
Pluck and gather with such care

Light the candles, burn the herb
Ringing phones cannot disturb

Dog and cats and cawing crows
Ask the ole crone, to see if she knows

The Spell Of Grandmothering~ )O(

For decades I slept or rushed through multitudes of splendid golden sunrises, I was unresponsive to the delicate dew kissed bird music of dawn and I overlooked a million enchanted glitter-spun moon beams.
Having a Grandchild made me magickal again~

The Crone’s Door )O(

The crone’s door is open
Night and Day
The crone’s heart is open
All the way

Oak tree legs and mossy hair
Fat soft arms that hug with care
She dances deep within the night
She sings and conjures till the light

Silver charms upon her weeping tree
Roots and tinctures all for thee
The Crone lives deep within the grove
Stirring her cauldron and firing her stove

Bread and soup and sweet corn cake
Love and hate~ we all shall make
Turning wheels and ticking clocks
Forests, Springs, and tumbling rocks

Fire and rain, want and pain
The hill crone sings of loss and gain
Candles lit, all’s said and done
Moon will rise and then the sun~

The Summer Crone~ )O(

The merry ole crone is out for the day
Broom propped “straw up” while she is away.
Her skirts are cotton, she smells of a rose.
By her violet door, herbs and flowers now grow.
Sage and Rosemary sizzle there in the sun
The labors of summer, yet to be done

In her heart, she conjures the death of it all,
The sacred bend of harvest and fall
She walks~ clutching the call of a dove
The wheel ever turns~ below and above

The Naked Crone )O(

The Naked Crone
Knows too much
Cares and Cannot care
A cape of fog
Dropped in delight
She leaps naked~above and below
Licking the flames
Bells on her fingers and toes
Cauldron Bellied
Star Eyed
Warm wand hands
Fired up
Twisting, bending
Glowing, knowing, teaching
learning and growing~

From The Hill~ A Witchy Poem~

I am calling from the hill
Feel me now, and feel me real

Take my hand and come my way
Know my heart by night and day

Save your body and save your soul
Save yourself, so you’ll grow old

Feel Her rain and feel Her heat
In your head and in your feet

Feel Her Love and run to Her
Feel Her power within you stir

Know Her well and Know Her deep
Hear Her singing you to sleep

Come to me and sing my song
Love me sweet and love me long

Come see the moon, we’ll gaze at stars
Light the candles, stoke the fires

Stir the cauldron, ring the bell
Close the book and wish all well

From the hill I’ve called you dear
Come to me, I want you near~

~Love Magick~ (A Poetic Incantation)

The candle burns
So mote it be
Fire in him
Flames in me

Ever burning
Popping bright
Our sighs together slash the night
He takes me in his arms to see
What his love has done to me

When he does
I want it all
His blood, his seed
His lust, his need

Earth and Rain
He keeps me sane
All his pleasure
I shall be
Ever Always
Three times three

Fiery hair and eyes of blue
My every wish
He DID come true

Nine Knots~

I have recently fulfilled a nine knot spell. The matter or the intention of the spell is of little importance, as are the details of the spell. However, the glorious side effects of the “casting” of the spell are what I am going to focus on in this posting.

Witchcraft is a joy for me. The practice of witchcraft is a discipline that involves some measure of personal study, creativity, abundant soulfulness and heartfelt concern for the outcome of the spell that one is casting. I’m afraid we witches are like all others; we talk more about the practices of our religion than we actually practice our religion. I have been guilty of this myself in a robust and shameful way I am afraid.
The truth is, a witch is only as crafty as she wants to be. Witchcraft is a craft and like all other crafts, it must be practiced, it must be polished, it must be refined. Spell casting for me, is an intimate endeavor. As a solitary witch, I pick and choose my own path, my own ways, and my own practices. I do what feels right for me. I don’t go “by the book” on anything. I don’t “buy” things to be used in my spells, I use what I have, and I make it work! The energy, that is what counts, this is heart work, if you cast a spell with your heart in the right place, with love and concern behind your intention….it doesn’t matter what color candles you burn.
When I am doing spell work, I am dancing, singing, praying (if you will) I am all consumed with my intention. You can imagine that a nine knot spell which involves nine nights of spell work is particularly rewarding.

There is much thought and preparation behind the scenes of a nine knot spell. There is planning, timing; general gathering of altar offerings in preparation, there is the crafting of the spell, the writing of the incantation. All of these things involve a great deal of energy and time.

The nine knot spell is a type of cord magick and is commonly used in love spells. I did not perform a love spell by the way. Cord spells can be used for nearly any intention. The idea is this, as one ties each knot, the energy of the spell increases; it’s as simple as that. Nine is a magickal number.

The side effect of nine nights of candle lit dancing, blissful chanting, singing, casting, and poetic incanting has left me filled with a peace that is deep and satisfying.
Today I feel like a witch and I have a song in my heart. Blessed Be.

Lil Ralphie~

My friend Lil Ralphie is back on the streets tonight. Here I sit listening to a sleeping house, I am unable to sleep. I am thinking of where Lil Ralphie might be sleeping, I am asking myself “is he safe, what might he be eating, is he hungry, how will he have coffee when he wakes, he loves his coffee so, and cigarettes, who will give him a smoke?” What will tomorrow bring? Will someone befriend him and offer him aide, is he really as street wise as he says he is? He’s awfully kind to be so tough.
Are stories and jokes and poems and rhymes dancing around in his head but he has no way to post them on his beloved portal, what will become of him now, will I hear from him soon, did he keep my number, what good would that do? I don’t even know for sure what country he is in, how could I not know this? I wonder, does he have good shoes, socks? Is he warm, Ralphie is a very thin man. I wonder if busy people pass Ralphie and even fathom what a gentle soul he is and how brilliant his mind is or what a kind heart he has? They cannot know that he’s funny one minute and deeply spiritual the next, they cannot know. I should have at least found out what country he is in now, why didn’t I ask? He’s always joking but sometimes he’s very serious, he has sadness but his whole joy in life is to make people laugh. I’ve been too busy lately, I’m sorry Lil Ralphie. I miss you already. Hugs and Care. Gran.

~Full Moon Rituals and Sister Witches~

I write on The Experience Project as well as here on Ralphie’s Portal. Our dear high one “Ralphie” has asked me to post this story here on the portal. I wanted to preface this story by clarifying what EP sisters are, (Experience Project sister witches and friends) Now, here you are~.

It is one of the supreme delights of my life to dance unashamedly beneath the full moons glow. For me, there is exceptional magick in these moon dances, especially now that I know that my solitary dances are united in spirit with my exquisite EP sister witches near and far.
There is regeneration and splendid joy in my solitary worship for it is no longer solitary. It is a most highly wholesome feeling to be one small measure of this powerfully feminine circle of support and encouragement. We are a circle of knowing mothers and crones, we keep within our minds and bodies the secrets of life and of love and of nature. We are carnal, for we have lived and we have nurtured new life, we are consecrated for this same cause. Our spirits leap as our individual sacred flames burn within the moonlit midnight. As one sweet force we shall dance in wonder and awe.
We are most alive on these blissful full moon nights as we weave and sway together and alone from our scattered points upon the blessed earth, each single flame made brighter by the nearness of the next. The distance between us is elapsed as our shared ecstasy builds to a peak. Again on May 6th we will come together, linking hearts as we dance merrily in the spirit of sisterhood as beloved grateful daughters of the moon united.


~My Sunrise Incantation~

Birdsong and a fine black cat

Here I sit where I’m at

The trees are lit with glowing gold

Waiting stories that must be told

Coffee and cream held in my hand

Before me sunshine, mountains and land

Let me consider over this day

What tunes to hum~

What words to say?

Let me gather the glow

Let me study and know

Give me busy hands

That nourish and heal

Keep me young in spirit,

Allow me to feel~

May Day~Beltane~

On April 30 into May 1st we Pagan types celebrate Beltane.  Beltane is a fire festival honoring the return of the earth’s fertile phase. Beltane is most usually celebrated around the fiery fingers of a robust merry bon fire and dancing beneath a colorful maypole.  I have read that “back in the day” the fertility celebrations depending on one’s personal tradition could be rather lascivious, but I will leave all of that to the reader’s imagination.  Solitaries like me don’t often have the appropriate spot or space for such an event so this last evening, I held my own modest solitary ritual as I walked across the rolling hills and into the dimmed forest with my little dog.  This is the joy of being a solitary witch; one does things one’s own way and that is that. Some of us are… shall we say… independent thinkers?

There was a golden country sunset last evening; the green carpet of plush grass was soaked in the last soft amber hues of what was a perfect spring day. With the exception of my loyal little fur kid, I found myself all alone wandering across gentle green hills and leafy woods.  Where I go to walk is a magical place of rolling hills, a lively frog pond, and a leafy forest that could have been plucked from a fairy tale.

The land is set on a green expanse of hill highs that lord over our little community. It’s free to go walk there, and I am often in awe that no one but me seems to go there with any regularity.  I call this place “My Church.”

I did not light any bonfires; I did not even light a candle for I had the warm glow of the setting sun on my shoulder. As I walked, I thought of the earth, and I thought of the gifts she gives, I thought of the seasons, the planting time that is upon us, and I looked ahead to the harvest time, the time to gather, I mused over the divinity of it all.  I reminded myself that my very life source comes from the dear earth, my one true mother.

I stopped and lay down for a time and ran my fingers over the carpet of grass and pressing my heart nearer to the heart of my Mother. I rolled over then to watch the cotton candy clouds drifting above me. I was very moved, very grateful, very aware of the life forces that was were coursing above and below my body.

I stood up then, planting my feet flat on the earth and raising my hands to the sky.  I felt the spirit of May wash through me, sunshine, fertile earth, colorful blossoms, leafy trees, moon glow, I felt it all! I felt everything so intensely that I was what the Christians call “slain in the spirit” for a moment…rapt, joyful, and grateful beyond words.  So mote it ever be.

Have a blessed and merry May Day.


This little kitten was discovered in an old lawn building that belongs to one of my childhood friends. He was found in a cold dark corner alone, his nose was  raw from rooting in the dirt, his eyes were still tightly fused, his umbilical cord was still attached, he was clearly a new born, he was hungry, and he  had obviously been there for a while, but, he was alive.

I happened to call this old friend about two minutes after the kitten was discovered, at the very instant that she was reaching for the phone to call me, they do not enjoy cats (to say the least!)

We have been known to occasionally bottle feed orphan puppies and kittens at our little family pet rescue that we have here in our home in honor of our precious daughter Emmy’s life work and generous, constant dedication to animal welfare volunteerism. Emmy passed away in 2007. Her short life was one of inspirational compassion, she was selflessly dedicated to saving animals at risk from the time she was a toddler up until her passing at age twenty two from a sudden and devastating illness.

This kitten has thrived and she has given me far more than she has taken~This morning she is two weeks old. She is lapping formula from a saucer now between her bottle feedings. Her weight has gone from 4.3 ounces to 9.5 ounces. She will be adopted to her forever home in mid May. She has a wonderful loving forever home waiting for her.

My Evening ~

My Evening


Bark pressed to my face

A solitary grace

An altar with deep roots

Far beneath my boots

My flesh is old I know

But still I need to grow

I’m ever filled with passions

These things get me through the night

I have no shame, for I know that I am right

I will light a bright red candle

I will wait to watch it burn

Then, when no one can hear me

I will scream and I will yearn

Still, I will trudge onward, by now, contented with my pain

Embracing all the trees and crying in the rain~


~Self Lovers~



I find that my favorite people are those that love themselves. They’re easy to be around, and I know that if they love themselves they have forgiven themselves, therefore, they are likely to forgive me when my humanity gets in the way of my good intentions.

A Common Witch

Here it comes, let go of the night

Choose a fresh path, welcome the light

Smile in the sun, give it a go

Bless all the weeds

For they too must grow

I am a witch as common as mud

I know of your secrets

They run through your blood

You’ll never fool me

Not in ways that matter

I read beyond words

I hear beyond chatter

~Wet Wind~

It is midnight, I raise my east window, to find that it is raining hard out there tonight. This witch’s home is filled with soft music and candle light, the dogs snore. My body is tired but my mind isn’t ready for sleep, my spirit is at peace.

An alert black cat named Salem just climbed onto the window seal to watch the rain and the darkness, he has golden eyes, and he loves the wet wind on his whiskers. We are sharing this night.

This is a magical old home at night, it’s well broken in, magnificently scarred up, it is humble and worthy to be called home. I wonder did I do this place justice when I was the young mother of a family here, when this place was buzzing with the desperate dizziness of youth and the dreams of a life to come, was I magical enough to be both inspirational and hopeful?  Was I fun and warm with my children, I hope so.

There are so many lives down beneath this mountain, down the road, across the hills, under the stars, over the seas. My life is here, I love it, but, I dream of other places, and other realms. I wonder sometimes why I was dropped here and not there.  Is there any reason or purpose to where I am and what I am doing?

I have this quote, I made it up. I don’t know if there are a million others that have claimed it before me? How could I know?  I tried to find out, I Googled it, I found no such quote, so for now, I am claiming it.  It goes like this. “It isn’t that I don’t believe in anything, it is that I believe in everything.”  This pretty much sums me up spiritually.

I claim to be a witch, but, I have been other things. Devout things, ridiculous things, funny things, vulgar things. I suppose you don’t care, that is fine, I don’t care either. I don’t think labels help one thing, we humans are so silly about such things.  I do know that my soul is quite the same soul that it was when I prayed the rosary or attended revival or studied Native American teachings or went dead spiritually, I have always been ME, and I fear  that I shall very likely remain this way for all of time.

Full Moon Musings

Someone is firing a gun


Someone is teasing the keys of a piano


Someone is writing a best seller


Someone is laughing


Someone is starving


Someone is scared


Someone is pushing a broom


Someone is playing


Nuns are sleeping


Rosaries tangled in their fingers

In their dreams

They give birth to



Practically Magical

We have many choices in life, we don’t think about this often, but, we truly do. From the moment we roll from bed, there are choices; diminutive details of our lives are all about our own choices, but, we fail to claim this as a truth, we fail to take personal responsibility and ownership of the details and this is how I believe that we lose touch with our personal magic.
Most of us can recall magical times in our childhoods, and we blame the loss of our childhood magic on growing up, it isn’t true, or at least it does not have to be true. We are the same souls we were then, true, our bodies have grown, and true, along with physical growth comes certain dark discoveries, our hearts do get broken, but, our spirits do not have to be slaughtered along the way. Heartbreak does not lessen ones magic unless one allows for this to happen, one must acquiesce to such a tremendous loss, and I am here to tell you, don’t do it, ~just don’t!
We can choose to be practical or magical or practically magical or we can practice practical magic. We can choose to take on a magical attitude about our life and times here on this planet. Certainly we have this choice, no one owns our thoughts as no one owns our bodies, we are each unique and we all came here to this planet with a uniquely magical purpose. When did we forget this?
This isn’t tricky, you don’t have to shove your nose into witch books and study hard, all you have to do is be flexible and free flowing for a time, just try it on for size. You don’t have to join a cult or call yourself a witch either, (contrary to the beliefs of some of my fellow human beings, you most certainly do not have to be an Atheist or practice the black arts)
Just calm down, settle in, and do not judge yourself or anyone else. Begin to appreciate what is around you, above you, below you, be grateful, flow, open up, bloom, blossom, be hopeful, be positive, dance, move, sway, get happy and settle into your happier self. You are precious magic all in your own right, you don’t have to DO anything, except notice!
For a moment, if you can, forget everyone and everything, only consider yourself as a sacred being, have no other thought. Light up, glisten, glow, and be sacred for a moment. You are worthy, blessed, complex and simple, strong, miraculous, tender, raging, blissful, amazing, and grateful. You have choices, smile, own those choices, and feel empowered.
Employ your senses, go crazy, take your shoes off today and walk in the grass or in the mud with naked, appreciative feet. Do something outrageously natural and be unashamed to behave like a child. Sit in wonder, allow yourself to be awestruck. Get goose pimples, it is OK to be scared, don’t freeze up; empowerment can be a frightening thing if it is new and awkward for you. This is normal, smile and enjoy the sensations.
If it is possible, make love today, sexuality is a most powerful life force, if this is not physically possible, create art, this is making love… in its own way, this is pure magic and yet another very spiritual life giving act. Project magic with your mind, your body, your spirit, do not be afraid, it’s free, you do not have to have money to be magical! Inhale, exhale….and do it with intention and you are magical!
Dress for magic, wear something that moves as you move, we weave magic as we pass by in flowing clothing, it never hurts to use everything that you can to create your magical ways.

Say something kind to someone, anyone, this is magic, watch their face change, watch their energy rearrange itself, you are a magician. You have powers that you don’t harness, don’t you see? Just give away some kindness, this isn’t a dark art, this is a holy act, pure, selfless, and nurturing. Be kind. Plant roots of kindness, they will grow to bless you.
Embrace your practical magic, walk with it, sleep with it, wake with it. You will be happier and freer for it. Blessed Be!

Mountain Mamma

I am a proud West Virginian. I grew up here and I live here. I have lived other places further north and further south. I’ve visited New York City; I’ve also visited the west coast. I’ve been around this country. I’ve seen a little bit of this and little bit of that, but West Virginia is home to me, my only home.
There is something about these hills that call you home if you stay gone for too long. These are parental hills, they never cease to nurture and comfort, and they bear offspring that they embrace from the cradle to the grave. Their cool moss and brushy pines get all the way down inside of us natives. We are forever blessed by the hardiness and heritage of our mountain ancestors. No one can explain it, but some, like myself, make meager attempts.
Most of us meander away in our twenties and thirties, but, many of us come home before long. I’ve heard many people try to explain why they had to come back, but, no one can say for sure exactly what it’s like. There is a gentle tugging, a pulling, a calling, “come home, come home” begins to be written on the wind in ghostly script, and across the sky, and in the stars, spelled out among the city lights, scripted in the headlights across lonely highways. It’s impossible not to feel it, and most difficult not to submit to it. When old beloved parents call their children home, their children come home. It’s like that. This place, these dark damp mountains, these wild green hills, and these sunny quiet valleys have a core that is both magnetic and magical.
Some say that we are an odd lot, clannish and untrusting; I won’t deny this in total. Perhaps if you are familiar with our history, you can understand why. We’ve been taken advantage of more than once by slick talking strangers from other places that we trusted only to be cheated and robbed. Our mountains have been raped, our people have been made the butt of many jokes, we have known great tragedies and heartaches, our feelings are hurt sometimes, our pride as well. We are human, and we have long memories. Contrary to what you might hear, we aren’t stupid!
We are humble and sincere folk, we are steeped in mountain culture, and we rather enjoy our colorful folklore and legends. We still rock on the front porch on summer evenings, and generations still gather at Grandmaw and Grandpaw’s for dinner regularly. Many of us still have family land that goes back several generations. We vote and we join the military service in high numbers. We are good people with big patriotic hearts.
Visit our mountains, enjoy some of our proud mountaineer spirit, we’re really very hospitable to curious folks. Take a bit of our folklore and legend with you when you go home. You’ll never forget our sparkling steams, our colorful foliage, our wildlife, our old fashioned cooking, our tender valleys, our gentle ways, we are a well kept secret, but, now that you know about us, make sure that you come and sit a spell.

Ostara-Spring Equinox

Bunnies and lambs frolic in the glen

Sunlit earth, turned once again

Shoots and buds show smiling faces

Native greens now take their places

Sparrows and Robins busy at their nests

The forest is alive with feathery chests

Warm the ground, bless the seed

Give us Goddess all we need

Dance and sweep

Chant and reap

Light our paths with silver moons

Plant and plow through golden noons

Mirth and merriment we shall know

Beneath the sun our seeds shall grow

The Lord and Lady hear our call

Fruit and flower bless us all!

I Know

When I awaken to the crooning of The Mother

I know that I am loved

When I am alone but not lonely

I know that I am loved

When a four legged friend sleeps in the hollow of my belly

I know that I am loved

When his tired eyes light up after my kisses

I know that I am loved

When I hear “I love you Granny”

I know that I am loved

When I pull the warm laundry from the dryer

I know that I am loved

When I stir the kettle and the house smells like dinner

I know that I am loved

When I trace the silver stretch marks across my abdomen

I know that I am loved

When I look at the wrinkles around my eyes and smile

I know that I am loved

When my silver hair shines like sparkling stars

I know that I am loved

When I remember the embrace of my father

I know that I am loved

Every time I hear the word “Mom”

I know that I am loved

In my life, there is no time for hate

For I know that I am loved






Awareness comes with age; this is yet another motivation to rejoice these mid-life years.  Mindfulness, consciousness, and responsiveness are discoveries that embrace me within the reassuring arms of perpetual renewal and daily amazement.

Every day I find myself pondering some novel state of being that I totally missed in my youth.  More than once a day, I seem to ask myself, “how did I miss this or that?”  How could I have wasted so much time on self-pity and drama, when all of nature is right here before me to explore and discover, how much time have I misused being perfectly silly?

It appears to me that at around age thirty-five, I began to drop one by one my many veils and see myself as a real and exquisite work of human art. At around age forty, I began to find that true compassion for others is the path to tolerance, understanding and serenity in life.

At around age fifty, I began to see all of nature and all of humanity as miraculous and courageous. I began to commiserate our common struggles and our fierce need for nurture and meaning. Around this age, I began to see myself as a student of this life experience, as a spirit wearing flesh. I began investigating explanations that I passionately desire to understand or at least somewhat comprehend.

The older I get, the less I understand, and yet, this knowledge has me reveling in innocent merriment.

Awareness leads me into a powerful romance within the sincerest gossamer realms of my spirit. Awareness leads me toward a deeper intimacy to a keen awareness of the joys of living a life of purposefulness upon the planet.

Awareness allows me to see the world with fresh eyes and to fall victim to its beauty and wonder with each dawn.