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Herne's Huntsmen
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A group for those who are followers of the Horned Lord (Cernunnos, Herne, Hu Gadarn)
Members: 47
Latest Activity: Dec 5, 2021
by Herne 12/09/08
I hear the throbbing drums
I feel the cool grass beneath my feet
I smell the smoke and feel the wind caress my naked body
I hear the call of the Horned One, bellowing from the woods
My soul leaps within me to hear it
My feet begin to stamp out the heart-beat rythym
Of the thump-thump-thumping of the drums
I call back to my God, bellowing out my praises to Him
Around the fire I dance, head thrown back
Primal cries ripping from my throat
Then I hear Him coming
Sense the presence of my God as He joins the dance beside me
His hooves stomping out the rythym of the drums
Wtih my God by my side I whirl and leap around the fire
In trance I invite Him to enter me
And am surprised when I feel His Spirit enter my mortal shell
Together we dance the dance of life, of death
We step the steps of the hunter, the hunted
For a time that seems ages we two become one
Lost in the Dance of the Hunt
When the dance is complete, and the drumming slows,
We part company and I weep to feel Him leave
I collapse to the ground in ecstasy
And release
Discussion Forum
what is up
Started by THE BITCH FROM HELL. Last reply by Sylva Calaelen Dec 19, 2008. 1 Reply 0 Likes
How Do you Invision Cernunnos/Herne?
Started by Taliesin Soladraig. Last reply by Herne Dec 16, 2008. 2 Replies 0 Likes
The Master of the Hunt:A Look at Cernunnos as the Lord of Death
Started by Taliesin Soladraig. Last reply by jaymacfee ~ WhiteBear Dec 14, 2008. 4 Replies 0 Likes
Comment Wall
Comment
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Comment by Taliesin Soladraig on December 20, 2008 at 8:33am
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THE BATTLE FOR THE--WINTER
The misty dawn has broken on this shortest day.
The Holly King, in winter's green, is ready for the fray.
For half a year the leafy crown has rested on his brow.
To take the crown and cut him down is his brother's vow.
For six long months he ruled within his forest hold.
Throughout his reign, the foliate king, felt himself grow old.
The crown of leaves grew heavy still, the end was in his sight.
His weapons honed and armor shone, he readied for the fight.
The younger king was born, to issue challenge bold.
And take his place, with youthful grace, his brow to wear the gold.
His battle skills sharpened, the verdant crown, is his by right.
With shield of yew and sword new he went forth to show his might.
Twin brothers take the field, to battle for the crown.
The steal blades sing, they fight to bring each other to the ground.
With fatal strike the crown of green falls from his regal head.
He's proved his worth, the blood pours forth, his brother lies there dead.
The misty dawn has broken on this longest day.
The Oaken King, in summer's green, is ready for the fray.
For half a year the leafy crown has rested on his brow.
To take the crown and cut him down is his brother's vow.
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Comment by Stagsinger on December 19, 2008 at 1:51pm
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Herne, I love the poem above. May I paste it onto my page as well?
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Comment by JackotheGreen on December 19, 2008 at 3:47am
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Looks like the group has the potential for a really wild hunt for knowledge. I'll look forward to the discussions.
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Comment by Brian on December 17, 2008 at 6:02pm
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Thank you for the invite.
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Comment by Ray on December 9, 2008 at 4:20pm
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Thanks for the invite Herne!
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Greetings. I have followed Cernunnos nor for almost 25 years. Would like to join the discussion group please.
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