2006 IMBOLC/LUGHNASADH LONG POEM ENTRIES

[Crow]

Notice: Please post your long poems for the current Eisteddfod here. Long poems must be over 30 lines:

[Mike]

The Fugative

Crouched in a ditch beside the road,
Sleet and rain seeping through sodden coat,
Cold knives stabbing to the marrow,
Hunger clawing deep in the belly,
Fatigue constantly threatening.

Light flashing past and roaring engine,
Fear detracting from the task in hand,
Wound to shoulder a throbbing mess,
Aching limbs fast losing power,
Thirst cruelly quenching.

Darkness hiding menacing terrors,
Instincts and senses numbed by the elements,
Will to go on sapping away,
Energies all but spent,
Resolve for life buckling.

Breathing becoming fraught with effort,
Vital organs starting to close down,
Past memories coming to the fore,
Existence now a struggle,
Higher powers calling.

Suddenly aware of another's movement,
From afar the sound of Vixen calling,
Snap out of it, snap out,
Musn't, can't, give in to the danger,
Others still in needing.

One last effort, one last hunt for life,
Determined spirit now returning,
Grace and beauty of wild recalled,
Fire re-lit in soul and mind,
Nerves now quivering.

Suddenly Bobtail is in my vision,
Adrenalin kicking in at last,
Fear gone, pain pushed down deep,
All antennae now re-activated,
Survival is beckoning.

Last reserve of energy summoned,
Final chance at life is offered,
Must succeed, must not fail,
Leap, snarl, grab and gnarl - him or me,
Flopsy is screaming.

Survive or die the division so slim,
This time I am back from the brink,
So close, so near lies ever the threat,
Each day a life or death struggle,
Natural world living.

Trot home now to wife and kids,
Spoils closely guarded,
Warm den and loving kin,
It could have been so different,
Clan of Sionnach feeding.

Mike (Nov 05)
/|\

[Mike]

Sylvan
(A tribute to my beloved New Forest)

Forest of Pine and Oak and Beech,
Place that gave me birth,
Close to Southern pebbled beach,
A most beloved hearth.

Forest of Fox and rutting Stag,
Place of awesome beauty,
Living under England's flag,
Filled with Bel's rich bounty.

Forest of o'er one thousand years,
Place they still call new,
With you I share my hopes and fears,
As I absorb the view.

Forest of Willow and Hazel and Birch,
Place that formed my life,
From you there is no to search,
For dreams devoid of strife.

Forest of Badger and running Hare,
Place of peace and tranquil,
Far, far from a city's glare,
Yet never do you stand still.

Forest of living, moving time,
Place of awesome history,
Each day you offer further sign,
Of an ever deeper mystery.

Forest of Yew and Ash and Redwood,
Place of natural rapture,
If you could speak I know you could,
Tell tales of long lost culture.

Forest of Trout and leaping Frog,
Place in Bridget's county,
Your secrets hiding in a fog,
Well hidden from the doubty.

Forest that gave life to Wicca,
Place of ancient wisdom,
Today you still lend succour,
To those of Lugh's religion.

Forest of Poplar and Elm and Apple,
Place of babbling brook,
Within your bounds I will stay happy,
Until the day I'm took.

Forest of Horse and rambling Pony,
Place kissed by Taranis,
Within your bounds there is nought phoney,
Your power will never vanish.

Forest by which I am inspired,
Place that lends me tome,
With you my being closely wired,
My life, my love, my HOME!

Mike (Nov 05)
/|\

[Dair Ciúin]

That Gold Harp
By Dair Ciúin

The wheel quickly turns,
Our next festival nears,
And traditions continue,
As they have done for years,

Like a canine herald, Rancid appears with a Woof,
Before sharing the news, sounding scary and rough,
The patrons all listen, just as they should,
To learn the dates and rules of that ol' Eisteddfod,

Yes that time, it has come,
Our Bards, they all gather,
Announcements are made,
Above usual Pub banter,

Entries are made from all ends of the Earth,
Seems like some have been waitin' ever since birth,
But I enter this wee jig on a bit of a lark,
While everyone's chasin' that bloody gold harp,

Billy Joe Bob thinks he'll win, he just has that feelin'
And poor Crow's stress levels go through the ceilin',
Thanks to Amethyst and Kat, order's maintained,
But Hawky sounds doubtful, "Oh Gods, not again!"

Druids emerge from their quiet woodland groves,
And flock to the message board in masses and droves,
There's Aussies and Kiwis, Brits and the Dutch,
Plus Ki No Ronin, brewin' spiced cider and such,

Yes that time, it has come,
Our Bards, they all gather,
Announcements are made,
Above usual Pub banter,

Entries are prepared from all ends of the Earth,
Seems like some have been waitin' ever since birth,
But I enter this wee jig on a bit of a lark,
While everyone's chasin' that bloody gold harp.

[Laurelin Tauregwaithalion]

Huntress Ruby

In the blinding white of the sun
Pale gravel crunching under her feet
Heat warms her shoulders
As she meticulously studies her target
Documenting in a split second its
Every move
The shift of his weight
His plodding footfall
The smell of his hide
Heat
Flesh
Bone
Sun
Dust
His skin
Grey crumpled notebook paper
Dampened and fastened on broad haunches
They say Elephants mourn their dead for days
That is no concern of hers
She is the huntress
The archer
The fierce predator
He is the prey
The provider of meat
The flesh
The hunted
Her speed will fell him
Her heart
Joyous and fierce
Her unquenchable spirit
Will devise a way
To fell a beast many times her size
She plans every footfall
Every turn
Every possible combination of evasion
He is done for
If only she could be relieved
Of her collar and leash
Loosed of the limitations of this realm
The hunt begins

--Laurelin Linrilwen Tauregwaithalion (3/29/05)

Win or no, this poem is written in honor of a delightful greyhound friend of mine, Ruby. She had an unbreakable spirit, a fierce will, and the most delightful sense of humor I've ever seen on a dog. She really did believe she could hunt that elephant. If you wish to see a lovely picture of her:

http://www.greyhoundsoffairhaven.org/memorial.php

For the full story of the Elephant hunt:

http://www.desertraven.com/greyhounds/elephant.php

We love you, Ruby.

--Laurelin Linrilwen Tauregwaithalion

P.S. I am also posting this one now because a friend of Ruby's (Cooper) is in rather poor health since he was attacked by another dog. His leg has sustained pretty major damage and I light him a candle every night. So, this is for the greyhounds...

http://www.greyhoundsoffairhaven.org/im ... cooper.jpg
--Laurelin

Note: Edited the title...

[barmybam]

Entry
What Is Life?

People come to me asking for the meaning of life,
I can’t answer them because how can anyone know it?
Some say it’s a number,
Others look blankly,
What can I say?
I am their source of knowledge,
I can’t let them down after all these years.

People ask me how the world began,
I tell them the truth but they question my knowledge,
They ask me why the Bible says it was created by God,
But science has a different explanation,
The Big Bang or a work of artistic creation?

People ask me when death will come to them,
But how should I know,
I may be the source of knowledge but I can’t know everything can I?
Only their God can control death,
Not to be predicted by some know-it-all.

People ask me why I know so much yet can’t answer all their questions,
Some think I am sick of answering them so often,
Others think I’m just stupid,
If they think I’m stupid why do they ask me questions?

People ask me why sex is to be kept within marriage,
I tell them that is just an opinion and it is up to them to believe it or not,
They just laugh at me,
If I lie then they won’t trust the knowledge I have been given,
If I tell the truth they laugh,
What else should I do?

The meaning of life?
What do you think it should be?
A definition?
A number?
The truth?
A lie?
What?

[Caileadair]

Avalon

The name of myth and legend,
Of story and of rhyme,
The place that ever beckoned,
With thoughts of life sublime
Is Avalon.

‘Twas there throughout the ages,
The heroes of the myth
Repaired, for grief assuages
And wounds are healed forthwith
In Avalon.

From now to world’s beginning
Through all the ages tell,
The fights were all worth winning
No matter what befell,
In Avalon.

The hero of the story,
No matter what the name,
Achievéd thus their glory,
Their stature and their fame,
In Avalon.

The Tuatha de Danaan,
King Arthur, and his ilk,
And hobbits’ hearts be gladden’
Where flows the honeyed milk
In Avalon.

Tis thus, the place immortal
Where time hath not held sway
A land with secret portal
Bereft of rust, decay
Is Avalon.

So thus, when battle’s over
And endeth all your strife
To rest in lush green clover
And so to make your life
In Avalon.

For if, in life courageous,
You choose to make a stand,
May be, throughout the Ages
You’ll dwell in fabled land –
In Avalon.

[Caileadair]

Lore-Master

On edge of Night there strode a bard
Lo many and many long years ago;
And such as held in high regard
By princes, kings, and wizards so.

Great talent had he, and great gift
'Twas ever truly said of him.
His wit was large, and tongue most swift,
His throat did issue nature’s hymn.

Yet more he sought, to give him due,
'Twas never satisfied to know;
Base ignorance he did eschew,
So Wisdom’s songs he would bestow.

Then set he out from marbled halls
To find the Source where Wisdom sat.
In forest, meadow, whitest walls
And sought the wisdom found thereat.

In all these places found him then
Embedded deep in local lore,
Some bit of knowledge in his ken,
Though oft from ancient days of yore.

And knew he then what he must do
Through all the long years circled round;
His journey great did thus ensue,
His wisdom great did thus abound.

Through all the Ages, down through time
He kept him knowledge ‘round about
His wisdom grew as knowledge climb’
All unenlightenment to rout.

'Twas ever thus he sought to gain
The lore of all the ages past,
And thereby thought he to attain
Abundant store of wisdom vast.

His travels took him far and wide
As under beech and oaken leaf
He wandered, turning oft aside
In search of yet-unknown belief.

So ever and anon he came
By ruined town of long-dead kings.
He took note of their once high fame;
So anonymity death brings.

And ofttimes in his travels watched
While some small child cavorted there
In innocence no whit debauched
With flowers twinéd in her hair.

He saw the bride and groom plight troth
In bower white and fragrant bloom.
Took note the vagrant worker’s sloth,
His wage the bottle thus consume.

Saw agéd couple cross the path
In slow, entwinéd arm embrace
Old heart of love each darling hath,
With wrinkled smile upon each face.

So in his travels, as he passed
And saw the lands about him age
He ‘scovered some truths stand steadfast
Still other truths they then presage.

And thus he came, by path of night
Sore full of age, yet seem’d not so;
In wisdom large, and great insight
He trod the path trod long ago

And came again to marble halls
From whence he parted, ages hence
And walked again within the halls
Where long ago his path commenced.

But there no longer sat his liege
Whom ever long he used to know
A young lord, ‘namored of prestige
Replaced the sire of long ago.

A smile most wry doth twist his lips
As ‘pon the bard he brazen gaze’;
Brash sarcasm from young mouth drips
And arrogance the youth displays.

A knowing smile did grace the bard
He turned him from the crownéd head
His wisdom from this house debarred
Return would he to road instead.

But lo! In corner dark there sat
Soft echo of the bard’s own youth
And wondered he if there begat
A spirit-son, him birthed of truth.

A gesture thence was all it need
For son of heart and spirit leap’d
To follow him; the boy accede’
Full wisdom so from knowledge reap’d.

Then walked they into morning light
The bard beside his spirit-son
And left behind in hall of night
Bright wisdom there bequeath’d to none.

But to his son the bard began
Expounding all that he had seen,
As on the road before them ran,
With all the wisdom he could glean.

Far on into the west they walked
Far from the realm around them thence
And ever and anon they talked
'Til never other saw them hence.

Until they reached the coast of Sea,
Where ever over waves there flew
The gulls, who cry eternally,
While ocean breezes there them blew.

The bard to young boy smiled him then
And took his hand, and turned to go,
And westward walked his feet again
Out ‘cross the waves that ebb and flow.

Departed they from off this shore
Where ever after mortals dwell;
Whose leaders wisdom oft deplore,
Whose ignorance do not dispel.

No more from them has aught been heard
Since westward then they turned to go;
For never yet has come the word,
Though they departed long ago.

And yet, 'tis said, throughout the land
On moonlit nights along the road,
A bard and son walk hand in hand
And take each path and small byroad.

[Caileadair]

Afterwar

The day is o’er, the battle won,
A hard-fought war o’er homes and kin,
Victorious we, in setting sun
All quiet now, where once was din.

Our fallen comrades now we care
To heal or bury as is best.
Medic the ones that fate did spare
While dead depart to Utter West.

I sit about the fireside
And stare into the flaming brands
And think of friends who yet abide
And stare down at my bloodstained hands.

But then anon my thoughts do turn
To hearth and home and one who waits
And then! Oh, how my heart doth yearn
And longing comes, and not abates.

The wind blows chill around the camp
And falling are the leaves of trees
The night is low’ring, cold and damp
Yet soldiers sit and lounge at ease.

And so what good have we done here?
This evil vanquished now, ‘tis true
Yet world of evil never clear
In hearts of each, some evil rue.

I ponder on this concept vast
And wonder what accomplisheth
When all our strife doth not outcast
And blood there lie upon the heath.

Yet be it not for me to tell
What good may sometime come of it
When sings some bard of what befell
And nod approve’, as it befit.

Sore weary, to my bedroll I
To rest, and sleep what dreams may be.
On morrow, homeward turns my eye
And walk I through the meadows free.

[Cradlehag]

Great Spirit

I am a dream in the heart of creation,
a soul-spark kindled in the hearth of the land,
a joy song for all our relations,
star-dust formed in Great Mystery’s hand.

I am the watcher of all souls passing,
foundation to the earthly door,
breath bringer to reanimate each path’s return,
to tread on the spirit road once more.

I am potential bound within,
the acorn that lies at the foot of the tree,
a waking dreamer domed within,
this great guardian’s next nativity.

I am the power courses down
in the raindrops, to nourish old decaying bones,
to rent new life, not cut asunder,
wisdom old as standing stones.

I am the reaper of all tides crashing,
a din of music upon your shore,
I sing my song from deep within
the mysteries behind the hidden door.

Seek me out within the forest,
dance to my song upon the great plains,
kindle me within the hearth of your heart,
and you shall reap in joy again,

Of harvests seeded in the blackness
by ancestors deep within the mound,
bright wisdom handed down the ages,
to cloak you now, a spirit found

and boiled deep within the cauldron,
help within the heart flame’s span,
centuries yawns cannot deter
the patterns of Great Mystery’s plan

[mawnanian]

Wheel of the Year

As the darkening year calls waiting winter nigh
And Samhain’s dance is to the Cailleach’s tune
Her Veil cast down from sodden sky
To soak black oak in leaden gloom
The scattered rooks go tumbling by
On joyous wind they call and head for home
Frail Sun retreats before the season’s cry
And summers woodland stands stripped to the bone

Yet life’s own spark lies waiting underground
With solstice passed the earth stirs once again
Green shoots that once within chill earth were bound
Slip from winters grasp to greet the rain
Fair Bride anoints the land, her Imbolc blessing handed down
To bid the world awake and greet the lengthening day
Seeds sown in furrows, freshly ploughed
Nurtured by the dark maternal clay

To grow strong, weaned from natures tender breast
From equinox the Green is king once more
Fires percolate the night to east and west
Like midnight stars they stretch from shore to shore
To merry Beltanes wanton tune,
between the flames, beneath the Moon,
through labyrinth on flowers strewn
folk dance the antic hay to summers door

And passing through they come to balmy days
With buzz of honey ‘neath the bronzing sun
Midsummers peak a rich productive haze
Promises of gold brown harvest home
Lughnasadh comes, to put an end to reverie
For now the time has come to pluck the fruit of Imbolc’s seed
Past Mabon night draws in to claim ascendancy
The wheel is spun full circle; the year is drawn once more to hallows eve

[Seeker]

The Journey

Almost there…almost here…
Feel it close…feel it near.
Lights play tricks…air gets thick,
Motion stops…traveling starts!

Lack of sound…loss of breath…
Out of time…out of step.
Drumbeats start… heartbeats race…
Dance begins…shadows pace!

Walk on air…swim on thunder…
Fly with lightening…float in wonder.
Through a cave…ride the winds…
Top a hill…the snows begin!

Spirits speak…you can’t ignore…
Rush of knowing…time to soar.
Rattles start…singing drones,
Emotions felt…within your bones!

Spirits cry…sweat won’t die…
Pounding pulse…tears arrive.
Words of ages…times gone by…
Tribes of voices…collective sigh!

Heart to heart…breath to breath…
Wisdom walks…do not forget.
Send the smoke…sing the songs…
Respect the ways…it’s been too long!

Gasping air…knees on floor…
Endless thirst…find the door.
Weak of heart…head is screaming…
Can’t turn off…this way of dreaming!

Time to walk…time to go…
Down the road…the way is slow.
Lonely times…lay up ahead…
The choice is made…be prepared!

[Stefan]

Oh, Sacred Grove


Light of Moon, shining white horn
a light beneath a thousand dreams born
Where magic lives in our Sacred Groves
Where fairies play in twilight glow

Oh Sacred Grove of peace and rest
unclothes me of society's stress
for the world is our foster mother
giving us jobs, and bills and deaths to smother
memories of where once we dwelled
and drank of love from the Divine's sweet well

Lost this earth beneath our feet
the concrete cold as a corpse's sheet
Lost are the stars upon the night
faded from the city's bright lights

Fret passed events and things to come
no moments peace for we have to run
Never we stop to live in the now
where grass is cool and skies have clouds

Prisoned within walls slaving to make money
we pay the rent but we lose the honey
the sweetest scents, the gentle breeze
of nature's beauty we never see

Rejoice! Our Sacred Grove still thrives!
where time stands still in a place sublime
Where the Divine like sweet music heard
in melodies sounded from unfrightened birds

I give you this gift in poetry and prose
For your Sacred Grove wherever you go
When stripped and blinded of the Divine's Love
Take these gifts fly, fly as a free hawk above

I give to you the white honeysuckles
the sweet smells and taste as well
I give to you the giant oaks
where beneath the red poppies dwell

I give to you the purple highlands
the winding rivers and silver Lochs
I give to you the softest peat moss
and mushrooms with speckled dots

I give you bliss a moment still
To savor life's sweet wine
What jubilation so joyous a thrill
To reunite with the Divine.

The Divine from which we were born
The Divine from which we return
The Divine that lives within us
The Divine we always yearn

Stefan
Dec. 30, 2005

[DaRC]

Beastie
I. Vampyre
Drained – financially, emotionally and physically.
You bled me for years
Until, at the end there were no tears
Only exhaustion
From fighting to keep my family and fortune
Together

Together – you Bela Lugosi turned my strength into weakness.
Family and friends thought you cynical
I believe that you were just natural.
Or is that a spark
That there are feelings down there in the dark
Of my heart?

Heart – corrupted by that green bug-eyed jealousy.
Once so innocent is that all gone?
It is not trusting and feels all wrong
Dark valleys
From a night-club’s flashing alleys
And songs.

Songs – like a Siren you sang.
Not knowing I needed an ambulance.
Stabbed with your lance
I stumbled around
Constantly, stupidly giving ground
To you.

You – loved-up is all I can call it.
Six months for seven years is no bargain.
You bowled me over like a train.
Now gone
I find pieces of my whole self washed upon
A shore.

Shore – beached or was that ran aground?
No magical, mystical island of Avalon
But stark, clear reality of one
Alone.
Sucked and used, stripped to the bone
By a Vampyre.

II. Wraith
Sunna shines; a frosted glow,
that leaves this shade without shadow.

A shade without shadow.
A tree without trunk,
memory without remembering,
thinking without reason,
a shadow without shade,
caught by the bright Apollo.

I ran to the dark, far from the stark,
into the gulley, far from the holy.

Anoooooo, anooooo, anoooooo.

It seems night's seagull cry
gave voice to the silent,
embarrassed the bloodless,
featured the featureless,
a fish out of water caught
in the hook of a seagull's sound.

Upon a beach; Sunna bleached
them bones can't quite be reached.

I ran, it ran, we ran.
I ran from it, it ran from me
until under the shadeless sun
we had nowhere else to run.
I caught it, it caught me
and in them bones we finally breached.

"AyiouckHaa", breath ha!
It ends with a quiet "Waaa".

III. Zombie
"I thought I'd killed it!" yet here it's back again
shuffling through the dull dark, nights where time is lost
in the peripheral, stares like a cat, feral
deadly determined to drag one spirit mind
into a smothering well, torturous hell.

The slow moaning groan of a demon ungown'd
scarily naked, deadly grey and wicked
it's grabbing my coat, so wriggle like a stoat,
and the stench reeks foul, so smell like an owl,
held by a dull dead grey thing, escaped like a grayling...

to run; fly, skim the water as hooked by fly on river's run.
STOP and turn around, cycle to the bardic sound,
stare that zombie in the eye, let the curse fly;
"To the goddess be humble, stop that groan and grumble,
back to earth must you stumble and after me no longer bumble!"

[barmybam]

Entry
Oh, How To Be Free

Concealed in her mother the foetus yearns for freedom,
Oh, to be free, to run in the wind of the fall.
Freedom, oh, how fun it must be to be able to take control,
To have a life where you aren't tied up or attached to someone.
To watch your family love and cherish each other,
To grow up with the people you care about.
Oh, how lovely it must feel to be free!

Being free'd from this treacherous place is soo painful,
How do they expect us to cope with this feeling of pain,
And of suffering the moment we are free'd?
It is awful being put through this,
I presume it will be worth the hassle.
What if it's not?
Have I gone through all this for more pain and suffering?

My first few months of life are seem to be so boring,
I have little energy so I sleep,
When awake and I talk no-one seems to understand me, why?
It feels like I'm speaking another language altogether,
Myths say a new-born baby speaks the divine language,
If so why not everyone understand it?

I'm able to see things in my own way now,
The world is full of discrimination and pain,
What is happening at home is disgraceful,
Just think of how the poorer and less fortunate people cope
It must be very difficult for them,
Living in poverty with little food...
I would be tempted to kill myself.

I can't believe what school teaches you,
They expect you to be grateful for everything,
Should we be grateful for abuse?
Should we be grateful for death?

Death, would that lead us to the freedom we want?
Oh, to be free,
Will we ever be free?


Amber

[Belet]

The Stone
by: Linda Fields


It wasn't big, it wasn't small
it didn't look like much at all,
it didn't answer to my call,
it did nothing...nothing at all.

Oh what a bother to be sitting here
next to this...this...ugly thing!
It doesn't make me laugh,
it doesn't make me sing.

Out from the trees, Lord and Lady appeared.
They came to me and this thing laying here.
When they spoke my eyes grew wide
for they showed me life from a different side.

"You are not big," she said "you are not small.
You don't act like much at all.
You never answered to our call.
You did nothing...nothing at all."

The Lord shook his head...

"It was a pity, you sitting here,
next to this...this stone....I hold so dear...
a gift to make you laugh and make you sing
and yet you called it some ugly thing."

The tears rolled softly, I fell to my knees.
"Oh Lord and Lady, forgive me please."
But just as quickly they were gone...
I felt the pain of what I'd done.

As my tears fell upon the stone,
it began to hum a beautiful tune.
It wasn't big, it wasn't small,
it was just right and best of all...

It made me laugh and made me sing...
what a wonderful gift
the Lord and Lady did bring!

[Guardian]

Another one I wrote a while ago

Wolf Eyes
Tell me what you see, from behind those eyes
A soul, where a silent spirit cries,
Only to be heard in the dead of the night,
He cries to the moon, his only light,
What do you see, behind those eyes?

Tell me what you hear, when he cries in the dark,
When he sings to the stars, voice somber and stark,
He howls to the moon or the star filled sky,
Crying for battles with tears left behind,
What do you hear, when he cries in the dark?

Tell me what you feel, while he prowls the night,
Stalking his prey so far from sight,
He treks and tracks, following with care,
To ensure his prey unsuspecting and unaware,
What do you think, of his victorious night?

Tell me, do you ever feel that somethings not right,
And for no reason at all, awake in the night,
Only to hear nothing except empty air,
Feeling sick to your stomach, for nothing is there,
And the only howling you can hear now is the wind,
Reminding you how it once had been,
And now that you think of the howls you heard
When you were a child, the thought had occured,
Perhaps they were crying to warn us of some
Awful disaster that was certain to come,
And the only one who heard it all was the wind,
Who promised to come and remind us again,
That every time we awoke in the night,
The children of the moon, who sang in her light,
Were dead to the world, and none would have guessed
We'd miss a creature, so wonderfully blessed.
~Faol

[Dreoilin Conocht]

Coming to Terms
By
Dreoilín Cónocht
/|\

If everything means nothing
Than from no-where everything comes
If matter is energy
And reality is an illusion
Forced from form to forge
Brings spirit to science
Than there can be no substitution

That from the central point of being
All choices dictate
A life chose can be changed
From a thought
Time would have to exist
For you to be late

Parallel to here
Sitting right beside of you
Lies possibility of infinity
Only out side the concept of divinity

So that when you feel
Emotions may lead to action
Doing nothing is still something
For it’s a choice where exists a satisfaction

Be it the bounds of the brain
An organ of mechanics
Or the mind of the mental
A consciousness of semantics

Energy not lost
For the transcendence of living
Dispersed to else-where
Beyond physical being

So that,
Nothingness is everything
When everything is removed
Because when this is reality
Behind our eyes we see
That dreams our are salvation
For thoughts set us free

It’s not the end that is the goal
Traversing the wheel I think
Allows us to glimpse the heart
Of the humans undying soul
In between the spaces we blink

[Dreoilin Conocht]

A Satire
By
Dreoilín Cónocht
/|\

Woe to you oh small man of generous hospitality
It was by age you passed judgment upon me
You cared nothing for bonds
woven to time by deeds done
by a love of teaching

The insults you slander shall befall a kingdom to you
A people without a white king
and the Dragon reclaims a land to its own

The loss of your tradition to a people lost to the night
Not even a bale-fire shall guide you through troubles

Disrespect to an understanding
I wish the harshness of justice upon your deeds
By Root
By Tree
By Trunk
By Branch
By Seed to Stalk
I demand repayment
You have stolen away the goodness of a once and gentle land
Perverted it for your pleasures
Of a money lusting hand

Our fox in her camouflage shall trick you with her beauty
Our cat shall be your misfortune as you pass by your duties
A horse shall never provide a smoothness of travel
For the boar grants a chaos
while your dreams entangle you in the thicket
No longer the sweet song of the wren shall find you
as the owl never misses its target

So as a Raven of a Hunter proud people,
once was we to seek this justice to be faced

May you go head strong into twisted words
as your friends are no longer by your side
Only because of no compassion and the slander you spread

I wish you well on this journey
and hope that light shines in your eyes
to admit your wrongs
in the truth of an un-seele court.

[Dreoilin Conocht]

The Poets Process
By
Dreoilín Cónocht
/|\

By joy or by sorrow
The Poet pours out
A passion for persuasion
Having never a doubt

His cauldron spilt over
seeping into the ground
giving birth to the Hazel
where knowledge is found

A blossom of a fruit
falls far from this tree
A nut to a pool
where a Salmon will be

Craving for consumption
with haste he did swim
To taste for himself
this ancient wisdom

He had been caught to a bare hand
By what appeared to be a true man
lifted like a falling nut
as he struggled upon the sand

With his last breath he warned him
as he spit into his eye
there is always something more wiser
why don’t you give me a try

So with good intention
the man set to intake
a fishes words for redemption
hoping wisdom to partake

The flavor he found
like honey to a bee
found this true man a gift
of Bardic poetry

From knowledge to a nut
A fish did pass
the wisdom of the Trees
now a poet in the grass

For it was formed before it fell
to a seed spread by hesitation
By a Godhead who loves
To give men inspiration