Bardic Offerings A-B

Abermaw

Upon the shore, I sit and feel,
The cool breeze upon my brow.
Where Land meets Sea,
And both greet the Sky,
I listen as the spirits dance,
To the songs of my ancestors.

Here the moon-driven sea,
Laps against her mothers feet,
And I sit nestled in her lap,
As pebbles that once were mountains,
Whisper to me of ancient heroes,
Of princes and the lost Cantrefs.

Where Bran watched the fleet,
Of proud Ireland’s King come,
To woo fair Branwen on the shores
Of Dyffren Ardudwy,
Where he gave her to Matholwch,
And sealed his own doom.

Where the last Prince of the free,
Gathered his men, a golden battle host,
To throw down the dark fortress,
Of the Saesneg lords.
Where for a bright moment,
We stood as men beneath this sky.

Here we began a song of hope,
To the heroes of Harlech,
That would carry proud Cymric warriors,
Through dark nights under African skies,
And bring Evans 152 back to his farm,
On the slopes of Cader Idris.

Here, on this shore, the songs go on,
Of Gruffydd, and Evans,
Jones and Glyndwr.
The ancestors stretch back behind me,
Into the golden mists of memory,
And I listen, that I might sing for my children.

Craig

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Acceptance

No certainty,
Nothing absolute,
Nature continues,
regardless,
no matter what ...

It can be exhilarating,
Sheer joy, ecstasy,
Magic moments,
Unexpected inspiration...

But then...
it can be unjust,
so fucking unfair,
beyond understanding,
but who am I to judge?
Nature continues, regardless ...

The pain of my fears leads to
the comfort of my acceptance,
to let go,
relinquish control,
unattached, free,
flowing with the tides of life,
for then ...
true peace comes from within,
My determination and courage,
winning through ...

And so ...
I surrender,
working with the force,
embracing it, gaining strength,
for I know in darkness,
inner peace can grow,
I see that now,
nature continues in its own way,
not mine.

Star
December 2003

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Admiration

Admire the one with a relentless desire
To explore, live and forget that tomorrow
Will come discreetly, to those who admire
One who will never another's life borrow

Admiration placed, misplaced, often engenders
A flat world where none are the wiser
Keeping souls and minds enticed to wonder
Why others can't see what they admire

In turn, to those not under that spell, I pray
That logic and questions rule your day
For if it wasn't in the search that you seek
You'll be lost, undesired and best among the meek

Admire flowers, trees, family and friends
Without being lost in certainty, without question
You'll wear the future in pride till it ends
As it never does, you'll rule your dominion

Frederic

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

AIR WAVES

I call to the spirits of the sky
Breathe into my thoughts if you will
May I ride the air waves
That invisible force of air.

I embrace my fear
Its toxic grip loosening
As I dare to let go and breathe...
Yes! thats right! I breathe in life
Allowing the unknown to kick right in
Exploding my mind beyond all reason.

Throwing my self open to vulnerability I trust
Feeling that ecstasy rush through every vein
As I fly higher than ever before
Outstretching my arms to the sky
I breathe...
Awakening my spirit to freedom.

Star

Go to Title Index

Autumn

All the world knows of your beauty
Your dazzling, firey shades
You burst into breathtaking brilliance
The further the sun dips and fades

Each complimenting the other
The three-quarter dance of the wheel
The sun and the Summer surrender
The Earth mysteries are revealed

I listen to sounds of this season
The leaves crackle through the cold air
The music has changed as the wind plays new tunes
Through branches increasingly bare

Elaine Bateman

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Autumn Equinox

Midges feebly knead yellow air.
Pignuts fatten; smoke drifts
From unseen fires, and under earth
The languid, silent seeping of grey filaments,
The almost-invisible hair of ghosts. Spores
flavour the heavy autumn air like saffron.

Here and there,
ear-fungi on elder branches prick up
to catch the trumpeting of sudden chanterelles,
and startle at the clatter of pigeons
Trundling home to roost,
smoky-feathered.

Here the honey of last light is sweetening decay.
Leaves freckle the skin of the sun,
and the sky covers her own face,
aching again for the caress of swallows.

And slowly, slowly...
Summer shoulders his leaf-burden,
Patient, drowsy, and picks his way
slight and spindle-legged,
off through the darkening wood.

Mark Wiliams

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

BEAUTY

Ah! beauty in all its forms,
surrounds me
engulfs me,
lime coloured leaves fill blackest sky,
growing from roots and corms,
that fight with life - bursting.

This is my God and Goddess.

And this beauty fills me with dismay,
sorrow in my heart this day,
for how can I see beauty,
when there's fighting in the streets,
their treats and booty are gold taps
and appliances with holes and gaps.

Is this their eastern promise?
from western voice in khaki crease,
white teeth flash in darkened face
women stay at home and bake,
on stoves flat bread not cake.

Puny in my existence,
I try to make true sense,
of till receipts and heated comfort,
office politics and written warnings,
stupid battles, almost comic.

The guy that cleans my windows,
calls for his bit of money,
and tells his story.......
beaten in the streets,
kicked by booted feet,
his eyes are blackened hollow,
wallet stolen, fiver gone.

I see clearly through washed glass,
blackbird hops for worms in grass,
and flowers nod, I say hello,
insanity is pushed away,
it tries to steal this inner peace.

For beauty is all uncertainty,
within, without humanity,
it surrounds, overwhelms and comforts me,
Ah! beauty is a strange and lovely beast.

Trish Fraser
April 2003

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Becoming

I am not yet born

But if I were a flower
I would be a lily
Blazing fuchsia
My perfume permeating heaven

And if I were a bird
I would be two ravens
Fearless shadows against the sky
Flying back to my one-eyed lord

If I were a word
I would be "wonderful"
Open to invitation, reliant on imagination
Defined by the one who pronounced me

And if I were a story
I'd be the tale of Taliesin
Casual inspiration and endless change
Pursed by an almighty Goddess

Sandra Guy
February 2001
1 bis Avenue de Paris, 94300 Vincennes, France

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Bedd Branwen (Branwen’s Grave)

A dodi ucheneit uawr, a thorri y chalon ar hynny.
A gwneuthur bed petrual idi, a'e chladu yno yglan Alaw.

And she heaved a great sigh, and with that broke her heart. And a four-sided grave was made for her, and she was buried there on the bank of the Alaw.

Branwen uerch Lyr - Branwen daughter of Llyr - Second Branch of the Mabinogi.
(trans. Gwyn Jones & Thomas Jones.)

Glan Alaw
green flowing
onward going
blowing sowing
future seeds.

Here a legend lies
told turn again
ageless yet new
with every telling
swelling upwelling
tears sadly crying.

Young she was
and beautiful
pledged to a foreign king
her brother hated
baited frustrated
and in his hatred
destroyed his house
his lord his country
and only seven
came from the isle of death
only seven in Prydwen sailed
to tell the tale.

And the maiden
mother torn from child
rejected by her husband
her family slaughtered
rescued at such a cost
no rescue to despair
spare to share
hollow victory
her heart broken
death claimed her.

Her grave four-square
by Alaw’s bank
marked by a stone
in twain split
as her heart
a place of water
and slaughter
and cauldron’s fire
fit memorial for such as she
so shall it be
and it will be
to all eternity
a sign to show
that hate and war
brings bitter harvest
death breeds death
and ever will.

Life breeds life
green flowing
onward going
blowing sowing
future seeds…

Kestrel (Angela Grant)
December 2004

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Beltane Meditation

As time immoral begins,
See only the darkness of night,
Grayness becomes visible,
See the great pyres, staked tall and waiting,
The sun peeks above the horizon,
The great fires spring to life,
Feel the heat, smell the smoke.
The fires of need are kindled,
The Earth Mothers gift complete,
All day, powered by our vigilance, shall these fires burn.
As time immoral passes, so shall we,
Only to be born again and rekindle the sacred fires.

Bard of the Triple Spiral Grove,
Emrys Glastenen

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Beneath the Mists

The nymphs dance in a round
Their skin pure and milky white.
Their hair flowing,
Glowing red like smoldering embers.
They move as though lighter than the air
They sing as though more beautiful than the spring.

Lying still in the mists of the night
Is the body of the shrouded warrior
The bodhran beating like the lifeblood
Which once flowed through his veins
The bags are wheezing haunting melodies
As though mourning their old friend.

The beacon rages
On the open mountain side
Bran pays attendance
Black as the night itself
He carries the soul to another world
To be reborn - a little wiser than before.

As the dawn starts breaking
The fire now exhausted, barley glowing
A village far away hears a cry.
A new breath is taken with the new day
The child once again sees the dancing nymphs
And smiles at his old friends.

Ceinach /|\

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Blackthorn

Upon the hill, beneath the brow,
Glowers an ancient Blackthorn Tree.
Just Shrike dare sit upon its bough,
And use its thorns for their butchery.

Through summers long, and winter’s chills,
It’s weathered snow, and gale and rain.
Come spring its crown with blossom fills,
To start the Goddess’s song again.

Its head in sky, its roots in stone,
A stream about its feet doth course.
It stands upon its heights alone,
A dark, foreboding, watching force.

Its watched man grow from savage child,
To reach the moon, in one short age.
From friend of Sidhe with voice so mild,
To bringer of poison, death and rage.

It reflects upon man’s great endeavour,
And wonders at the kingdom.
Who yet could be so fine and clever,
With not a drop of wisdom.

But the Norns’ hands move upon the loom,
Where fate is bound and myth revealed,
And the Blackthorn knows that man’s doom,
Is, by his own hand, now sealed.

For peoples come, and peoples go,
And who remembers the Firbolg’s roar?
To live you must with the Goddess flow,
Or be cast down, from loom to floor.

The Blackthorn knows naught of human pride,
Or thoughts of greed and glory.
It has always been on the Goddess’s side,
In the telling of the story.

So mighty man, in your declining years,
Regard the Blackthorn Tree with awe.
And learn at its feet, despite your fears,
The path to another door.

For between the Blackthorn's tangled feet,
Lies the gate to a shining land.
But a final challenge must you meet,
To pass, you must first understand.

The earth cannot be owned by one,
Its wealth and lands to plunder.
A steward’s place is yours my son,
Or all will be rent asunder.

The Blackthorn has seen the dark face,
Of the Goddess in her anger.
And felt the cold earth’s dark embrace,
Of those who would defy her.

Beneath the hills, beneath the stone,
Lie the bones of those lost races.
Who thought like man, that they alone,
Were the masters of all places.

An ancient, sturdy Blackthorn stands,
Upon the hills, beneath the brow.
It sings out at the empty lands,
‘Ozymandias, where are you now?’

Craig

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Blodeuwedd

Let your sap rise up in greeting
Of the tender light so fleeting,
Bright the blossoms of the broom, sweep fresh joy,
Golden boy, future groom.

Old Math’s words the earth does waken,
Flowers from their slumber shaken,
Winter’s brittle tomb cracks with painful sigh,
Butterfly starts her reign.

Time does youth its bright colours fleece,
From the Gods we our rainbow lease,
Unfurl your petals whilst the sky can see
Such beauty ~ be not shy.

Decaying winter exorcise
With rich perfumes and lover’s sighs,
Nodding heads of flowers beat life’s rhythm
With them languid bees meet.

Honeyed love blooms beneath the sun,
Yet wilts without its chosen one.
Growing free she is savoured best of all,
What fool plucks her in jest?

When the light is gone, what remains?
Bloodless spectral white, shadow stains
The bower through which the ghostly owl sails,
Wails in the night, pale host.

Cavort with her whilst she is here,
Treasure blossoms like jewels dear,
When all is grey and the white owl swoops low,
Know that the dawn brings light.

Slàinte, Robin

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Blood Moon

Light seeped through frosted glass.
shadows danced upon the walls.
The blood moon stole upon me,
when I ventured out too far one night.

She cast her single red and swollen eye
over my naked landscape.
Untied the knot that guarded my heart.
Showed me a dream-
where truth was naught but a tangled web,
where knowledge rides an elephant over wisdom.

Her red glow penetrated the ghettos of my soul
unmasked every anguish
I'd been harbouring as a friend.

I wished I'd stayed at home
a shadow dancing on the wall.

Murray Barton
January 2003

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Blood Red Dripping

A breath
Inhaled
Held.
Spirit breath exhaled
Borne upon the dark, deep mysteries of the winds.
An icy breeze
Blown from the North.
Chill upon frozen skin
Whispering echoes of ancestral voices.
Spiralling in
Turning round and around.
Searching for the centre.
Down
Deep into the sacred well.
Threads connecting to the Wyrd.
Sensing all
Part of all gone before.
Transformation.
Shed skin falls away
Dissolving into the one.

Upon those ancient shores
Standing.
Black robes blown by salty unforgiving winds.
Hair
Wet
As knives slashing tear stained faces.
Bodies weary
Yet souls bound,
Fearing not our enemy.

Bound and tied.
Flames searing at innocent ankles.
Silent screams.
Suffocating flames of injustice wracked our bodies.
Cries cast out upon the winds
Heard only now.
Ears attuned
Coming home.

Hands grasping hands across the centuries
Slicing time.
Binding both ways.
Emotion
Transcending time.
To call together.
Still wanting “It”
Still riding the spirit path
‘ Twixt the worlds.
Together.

The Watchtowers cast their shadow upon our destiny.
The fat bellied moon is born once more.
Blood red dripping.
The screeching hare sees all
To become The Crone.

Moonwillow
12 May 2004

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Bloodberry Moon

The world was swirled in mist this morning,
My open window cool, inviting,
Naked and sparkle eyed with sleep,
My skin in the prickled dampness,
Of stranded cloud drops, cool and fresh.
My first breath like dream breath,
A lung full of water from under the sea.
Bloodberry moon is sailing in,
She shifts and drifts on tides of the mist,
Storm dragged free in summer's wake,
To brush the berries shades of west,
And churn the fields to deep rich depths.
Autumn pounds like the sound of a shell,
With my ear to the ground I can hear the earth sing.
The leaves start to curl with the colour of fire,
The burnt decay of a seasons sun,
Life spark blown ripe with juice so sharp,
And berries from flowers like ancestral lights,
Their small spindles wait to bead my blood,
In offering for a taste of sweet sacrifice.
With a flavour of darkness and a smell of the end,
Which pools on the earth and then seeps to the sea.

Red Griffiths-Haynes
September 2002

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

BOUND

Through my veins flows the blood
Of all who have gone before me
The Poet, The Healer, The Warrior, The Chieftain, The Slave.

Their stories hidden by time
Hidden by those who would corrupt the truth
Invaders who would wipe the Ancients from the pages of history

But, blood is the tie that binds

I found, in the darkness, a locked door
A rusted key, carelessly discarded on the ground, fit the lock and turned
With perseverance the door moved slowly on its hinges

Through the mists of memory
From an "Otherworld", veiled against perception,
I heard the Ancestors cry

For, blood is the tie that binds

I stepped into the void and there,
Suspended in the nothingness,
The Spear of Inspiration, The Sword of Truth, The Cauldron of Creation, The Stone of Knowledge

And in that place of beyond
"Life" was the magick emanating from the treasures
All spirits of Land, Sky, and Sea, All beings of this earth, ALL life,
Children of the Gods

Their blood is the tie that binds

Now I stand in a city the Old Ones could not have dreamed
Heart has abandoned the huddled masses
Mankind has fallen from grace, Divinity forgotten

I call to you, Brothers and Sisters
Join with me, that we might restore the glory of a time ages past
Rekindle the Sacred Fire. Forever to remember

Our blood is the tie that binds
You and I

Lee W 5-17-2005

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index

Bower of Birthing

High on a hill stands a circle of yew
The doorway is known by only a few
Taking hold of my hand
As gently she leads me
To the bower of birthing and a life to renew

The ancestors they came here
Shedding so many a tear
I feel them engulf me
Now holding me still
Working to bring calmness into my fear

I felt the hurt and the pain
Was I so completely insane
At what I destroyed
As my soul spoke its truth
Not only myself but another lay slain

It is dark and I’m frightened
Alone my soul nakedness tightened
With only a drum
To call priest or priestess
Protecting my journey that has now darkened

I am isolated and solitary and feel so alone
Nothing is left as I rot down to my bone
No-one can help me
I must do this myself
Until the seed of rebirth can be finally sown

Sue Bouvier
December 2004

Go to Title Index

Go to Author Index