2006 IMBOLC/LUGHNASADH SHORT POEM ENTRIES

[Crow]

Notice: Please post your short poems for the current Eisteddfod here. Short poems must be 30 lines or less:

[barmybam]

Entry
Now I'm Dead/Now I'm Alive
Part one:

Don't weep for me as you'll see me soon,
With your life ahead you could do anything,
Do what you want it may not be long before you're gone.

Don't weep for me you need to move on,
I've had my life so now it's your turn,
Fulfil your dreams you can have anything,
It's your choice but I have gone.

Don't weep for me I can't come back,
Give yourself the chance to be who you want,
I have gone so it's down to you!

Part two:

You may not realise it anymore,
I am here to love you like before,
You don’t know where I am,
But I am back in your heart,
Now I am alive again.

Your life me be confusing now,
Me saying all this mustn’t help at all,
But you know I just want to help you in life,
You don’t know who I am since I died,
But now I am alive again.

I can watch you grow up but I missed your childhood,
Hopefully I will get to see you grow old,
I didn’t get the chance for that but now I do,
I’m glad to be here now I’m alive.

We both have the chance to do what we want to,
It’s more important for you to move on,
I’m here to make amends, you’re here to have fun,
Now I’m alive we can both carry on!

[barmybam]

Entry
The Solstice Dragon
Discretely moving through the paling dawn,
The solstice dragon keeps watch.
Trees blossoming in the fields,
Flowers wilting in the heat.

The beating of the drum breaking the silence,
The solstice dragon travelling in the air.
As the sun begins to rise above the horizon,
The sleepy dragon goes to hide…
‘Till the next solstice comes back for the dragon to come back alive.

[Silver Owl]

My Soul Touches the Moon

In this wild beautiful, haunting sacred place
The night wind caresses my body bathed in moonlight
“My goddess I love you always and forever”,
I hear your whisper of true beauty
My soul touches the moon!
As I worship, in eternal love we entwine
Within our lingering dream
My desire holding me cherished in his gaze

[barmybam]

Entry
Merry Christmas My Arse

It’s Christmas Eve and the phone doesn’t stop ringing,
People call to say merry Christmas for the coming day,
All day long we try to be polite,
In the evening we think ‘sod this being polite wont shut the phone up’,
So from now on when someone calls up to say merry Christmas for the coming day
Our response should be ‘merry Christmas my arse!’
Perhaps then we’ll get some peace & quiet

[Donegal]

When the heart died on the road



When the heart died on the road
To windy vales and soaked trees
When the heart died on the road
Sleepy night fell in the dark

When the body bewildered
Felt the shadows of the land
When this body bewildered
Silently sang of the sun

When the rain falling gently
Filled the eyes with tears of joy
And the rain falling slowly
Watered the stem of each plant

When the heart died on the road
The hand did not clutch in grief
For the heart died on the road
Only to be born again

[salmoncat]

EntryLost and Found

For as long as she could remember,
Longer than her years,
She was in discomfort by the end of October.
Her family, her world, deemed her crazy,
That's what they all said.
Depression setting in,
As the length of the nights grew longer.
Always alone, ever lonely.
Feeling as if some thing,
Some one had left her,
Searching in vain in the ever lengthening darkness.
Holidays meant nothing,
At least not the ones her family knew.
Hers were of a different sort,
‘though never formally introduced.
The longest night brought relief,
From the fear and the loneliness.
The feeling of abandonment lessens,
She is on the right path,
A path that was chosen before she began.
She celebrates the Sons return.
Soon the warmth, the flowers, will too.
Years go by, the cycles repeat,
Suffering and celebrating alone.
Until one day, heart rejoicing,
She is welcomed, she is understood.
She is Bard, she is Ovate, she is Druid, she.........

IS LOVED

[Llynn]

Entry

why?

december daisies
bloom in midwinter sunshine
but there are no bees

[Avidubituonix]

And a poem in french. I tryed to make a translation but I come only with very bad ones because my english if not good enough. If someone as enough time to make a better one I will be very happy and i will add it here...


Rêve...

Moi qui toujours sur mon chemin, ai peint des tableaux de mes mots.
Je me lance avant d’être demain, et mélange mes mots dans mon dos
Comme le ferait un magicien, avec ces cartes et son chapeau.

Le trois étant le chiffre sacré, j’écris ce poème en triade.
Dans le rythme qu’ainsi je crée, les phrases me viennent par myriades
Et sans me laisser inquiéter, je mets les mots en enfilade.

Je fait le vide et puis j’écris, ces doux sons qui dansent et qui chantent
Et le plaisir vient comme un cri, quand les vers qui sortent me hantent
Je rêve, je danse et puis je ris, chatouillé par un verbe qui chante.

Par moment la source faibli, le flux des mots se fait moins fort
Et là je reprends mes esprits, je me relis et je m’endors
Bercé par les vers que je lis, je part pour un grand rêve d’or.

Dans mon rêve l’inspiration, sous forme d’un grand loup solitaire
Qui attire mon attention, me guidant jusqu’à son repaire
Ce loup se prénomme Intuition et il habite six pieds sous terre.

Nous discutons assis parterre, des mondes d’ici et d’ailleurs
Il me dis les secrets des pierres et que tout les mots sont des leurres
Il m’explique la prose et les vers, et je l’écoute pendant des heures

Car rêves et vers sont identiques en tout cas phonétiquement
Les hommes ont perdu l’authentique, le seul, le vrai, le grand serment
Le grand secret qui tous nous pique et nous démange énormément.

Tous les rêves ne sont que des mots et touts les mots ne sont que rêves
Musique, mots, rêves sont tous égaux dans la langue que parlait Eve
Do Ré Mi Fa Sol La Si Do et déjà mon rêve s’achève.

Je dors déjà depuis longtemps quand je me réveille en sursaut.
Je prends donc un beau papier blanc pour y coucher ces quelques mots.
Car l’oubli déjà je le sent, efface le paroles d’un tango.

Moderators note: Translation Thanks to Arashi for the wonderful help! Apologies for the delay.

Dream

Me who always in my path, painted picture of my word.
I throw myself before tomorrow, and mix my words in my back
Like a wizard with his cards and hat

Three being the sacred number, I wrote this poem in triad
In the rhythms that I created, the sentences come by myriad
And without being troubled, I make a thread of word.

I empty myself then I wrote, this sweet sound that dances and sing
And the pleasure come like a shout, when the verse whose exit haunts me
I dream, I dance then I laugh, tickled by a singing verb

Sometimes the spring fade out, flood of words become less powerful
And there I come around, I reread and I nod off
Cuddled by the verse I read, I leave for a great golden dream

In my dream the inspiration under a big solitary wolf shape
Who draws my attention, guiding me to his lair
This wolf is named Intuition and he lives six feet under

Seated on the floor we discuss, words from here and elsewhere
He tells me the secrets of the stone and that all word are deceptions
He explain to me the prose and the verses, and I listen to him for hours

Because dreams and verse are similar in anyway phonetically
Humans have lost the authentic, the unique, the true, the big truth
The big secret that stings and itches us enormously

All dreams are only words and all the words are dreams
Music, words, dream are all equals in the language that Eve spoke
Do Re Mi Fa Sol La Si Do and already my dream ends

I sleep for so long when I wake in a jolt
I take a nice white paper to put down these few words
Because I feel already Oblivion, erasing the lyric of a tango

[Caileadair]

Fae

In days of old, ‘mong mortal men
There walked the Elven Fae
But they have gone beyond our ken
And sadly sailed away.

In woodland, or in meadow green
Or river rushing by
Upon a time, the Elves were seen
If thou’d discerning eye.

Now some did call them angel bright,
Still others demon kin,
If chanced they on a revel light
In grove remote therein.

But like us are the Faery Folk,
Though not of mortal race;
Of good and bad, they both evoke,
Both love and fear, embrace.

Yet power flows within each vein
If such be in the Fae;
And Tir na N’Og be their domain
All sorrows thus allay.

So walk no more the Elven kith
Upon green grasses here.
In Tir na N’Og they dwell therewith
In bright celestial sphere.

Yet ever after mortal kind
Perchance should see them there,
Then Fae shall never leave behind
So Mortal child, take care.

[Caileadair]

Leaves

Sere, brown leaves upon the ground
Fellows of their brighter comrades above
Still tree-bestowed; yet with each passing
Wind, more join the race through the grass.

Hissing, crunching softly, they fly
Or whip gaily in the breeze, while still
Others find their way into the fencerow,
Dappling the boundary with bright mosaic.

Falling like confetti with the latest gust
They patter to the ground with a sound
Of raindrops; yet float along atop the stream
As tiny fairy boats, spinning and sailing.

The bramble catches them by hordes
Piling them along its verge, in great
Drifts of variegated brown. Here and there
A brilliant scarlet or gold flashes like wings.

In mere days, all will be brown. The leaves
Waving so merrily upon gnarled bough
Will be gone; the chill in the air proves it.
Naked limbs will reach to the skies.

But for now, the bright hues flash and bob
And fly upon the air. The hills wear cloaks
Of multicolor quilt, and rustling tree-hair
Learns to fly. Autumn is here.

[Caileadair]

The Door

‘Tis neither here nor there
‘Tis neither far nor near
‘Tis neither me nor you
‘Tis neither calm nor fear.

A gate betwixt, between
As summon all the Fae
And open up to mortal
Occur upon this day.

A time when light goes dark
When warmth gives way to cold
When walk upon the earth
The Elven Fae thus bold.

A door between two worlds
And pass through, those who see
Beyond the light of day
To dance upon the lea.

‘Mong those of mortal ken
The Faerie dance tonight
Upon the Sidhe-mound sere
By pale moon and starlight.

‘Tis rare enough to see
And rarer still, to do
But ever after, mind
The Sidhe will capture you…

[Gwilym Goch]

Entry:

The Office Profecy

We could not hold the sword
this day gone working hard in town,
the edge too clean,
the blade too white,
the shame too great to grasp.

Yet shimm'ring is the giftmaker -
this water's always new;
sweet songs are lapping on the sand,
the blade is breaking through.

We have no strength
to do this right,
with pensions all to pay;
the summer's gone
and keeping books
has kept us from the day.

But slipping swift on upstream
and toned to leap the sun
the lovemaker is wet with joy,
the deed as good as done.

We mock ourselves
with pointless dreams -
these can't be ours today.
Things to do -
we must get on,
important things to say!

The bell is hanging in the cave,
the clapper poised to fall,
when these dreams have blossomed, friends,
we'll be following the call.

[EarthWard]

Prayer upon the Pyre

Into the fire I stare
Ambers burning deep
Smoke rises in wafts
Aroma of heat swells
Fighting back the chill night air
The shadows dance upon the pyre
Ancestors stir in the lighted dark
But I feel treacherous among their deep haunted stares
Not worthy of the spark they struggled to bare
Armies of former lives
And I'm the accumulation of their tears
The sword tempered from the forge
The living fruit of their buried roots

Into the fire I stare
Portal of time glares
Whisper I a prayer for forgiveness
A testament of my wrongs
A gift I gave
And a gift I received
But as eyes open
I was not forgiven
For the Ancestors give no such boon
Only strength
Strength to carry the burden that we all have to bare
The struggles of life that we all must share

Into the fire I stare
And the fire stares back
For one day I shall be fire
Strength I will give
When the living pray upon the pyre
And the fire chases the dark away

[Mike]

Druid

Druid is,
As Druid was,
As Druid e'er shall be.

And so it was,
And so it is,
And still it works for me.

Mike (Dec 05)
/|\

[mawnanian]

Doggerel!!
(The poor relation of poetry)

Laura Lumpfish, denizen of the deep
Led an unassuming life, eat, swim and sleep
Then one day she was told she was a star
Because her roe was similar to caviar

Thrilled, she sought a different social class
Consorting with sardines, mackerel and bass
Shoaling with the sliver flanked and sleek finned clan
She forgot her friends among the also-swams

Alongside those most popular of fishes
She was close to the ingredients of a plethora of dishes
Spied by a famous seafood chef from Bergen
Looking for a substitute for Sturgeon

Attracted by this promise of grandeur
She swam willingly towards his sparkling lure
He drew her to him and with cheap distain
Took what he would then threw her back again

Poor Laura, gutted, filleted and sad
Thrown overboard, food for the gulls and crabs
Unwanted, save for her private parts
Had worked her roe out for the culinary arts

[Laurelin Tauregwaithalion]

Falls & Breaks

A sunset is not gold, orange, red, and blue,
It is the color of the robin’s breast as it sits on its eggs.
The mingling of sea blue and fire orange.
It smells like the dust settling, like the nightshade blooming.
Its sound is an owl’s wings in flight.
Deadly silent.
It is.
It is dark.
Night falls and crushes the sun.
It is buried in a casket of black.
Almost. The casket is old and broken, chipped by wear, time, age,
and you can see the light shine through
like a thousand tiny colored orbs.
Sun will not die forever. The glare bursts through the holes,
wrenches the hinges apart, and shatters the casket.
Dawn breaks.

[Shywolf]

Entry: Boreal Alchemy

O' leaden clouds
Heavy with your purifying load,
How such quietude falls from your
Tumultuous darkness.

What change comes upon you?
With your luminous edge;
I see the likeness of your sable Mother
Dawning her silvery dress.

A nuptial gown?
Ah, but I see it now.
Hath all the grossness been burned away?
Here comes the groom.

Must I avert my gaze?
Such tenderness from one so terrible,
The red rises to its likeness;
How his gentle kiss makes me blush.

Am I changed?
Oh! He steals away again.
But how it lingers in me,
I feel I need to laugh and sing.

[Shywolf]

Entry: A Solstice Dream

I will cradle you
beloved,
Think not,
Of the darkness that surrounds us,
It is a hopeful void,
Holding an ageless promise.

Let go,
Let go,
Sink deep into its silent keep,
Forget yourself and grieve,
But first,
Let go.

This time is done,
The wheel is spun,
Burdened with the clods of worry and regret
Let go,
Let darkness dissolve the same.

Washed,
Laid deep in the liberating night,
Feel the pointed softness of relief,
Deep peace and profound darkness,
Pregnant with Light.

[Donegal]

Sean-nós.

To Gearóidín Bhreathnach, her music.


Green mould
Stone of the church
Roots plunging in the grass
The circle like crosses of marble still
Damp walls resounding by the organs mute
Shivering epitaphs
God in waiting
Of faith.


Raw grey
The coast diving
Earth sailing in the cold
Roads under the sea leading to nowhere
The guitar, and the whistle, the fiddle
All need reassurance
Warmth down the pub
Pour, wind.


Shining,
Telling stories,
People sit around her,
And in a tiny, light, accurate voice
She paints the smell of veiled froth and white weeds
Naive sleep of the heart
And tears of love
In song.