Did you know that it was on Pendle Hill that Fox had the vision that led
ultimately to the Society of Friends/ The Quakers. Strange linkage that; he
and the Pendle Witches. Arthur.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sally James" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, November 02, 2004 4:28 PM
Subject: Re: new sub Pointed hats (Arthue)
> Yes it's true. I love this area of Lancashire as it is steeped in history
> and it is also said to be half in fairy land and the other half in
> Lancashire. I camped on a farm in the late summer, early autumn. A bit
long
> in the tooth for camping I suppose but it was good fun watching the sunset
> and the moon rise with just sheep for company bw sally J
> >From: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
> >Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: [log in to unmask]
> >Subject: Re: new sub Pointed hats
> >Date: Tue, 2 Nov 2004 13:56:26 -0000
> >
> >Hi Sally. I pass Pendle Hil regularly and it seems always to loom black
and
> >dark, even on the sunniest days. I know the Hill itself had nothing to do
> >with the witches but it looms as a reminder of the place.
> >I have read the story, several different versions, of Chattox and Demdike
> >and their broods. The law hung them for all the wrong reasons. They were
> >poverty racked and feeble minded, as much a victim of the superstitions
> >they
> >believed in themselves. A nice oem for its time. Regards Arthur.
> >----- Original Message -----
> >From: "Sally James" <[log in to unmask]>
> >To: <[log in to unmask]>
> >Sent: Sunday, October 31, 2004 5:56 AM
> >Subject: new sub Pointed hats
> >
> >
> > > Pointed hats
> > >
> > > There are too many pointed hats
> > > too many black hats reaching for the stars.
> > > The almost full moon is asleep on a cloud
> > > and lights shine where a twig broom
> > > made holes in the umbrella night.
> > > A grovelling mist sweeps over the moors
> > > saunters like a crowd of ghosts
> > > across brown leafed roads and twisted lanes.
> > > Pendle is awake, her spirit sisters roam
> > > unleashed across shadowed grasses.
> > > Moonlit streams wake sleeping fish and
> > > old owls stare wide eye, from hollowed trees.
> > > Black cats smile from slated roofs
> > > creep from secret places.
> > > There is an age old mystery seeping underfoot
> > > it clings with dewy frost on soggy soles
> > > Yawning from the valley, a mystery of magic
> > > flashes like lightening, tingles rusted gates
> > > strikes the tremble of this hallowed eve.
> > >
> > >
> > > Sally James
> > >
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