Bardic Offerings C-D

Ceridwen

Morvran’s mother, grieving womb
Spawned grim fiend fit for the tomb,
Hidden in the deepest gloom.

Daughter like the dawn cool bright,
Shields her brother with star light,
Shadows grant but brief respite.

Croaking cormorant weeps rage,
Trapped within his fleshly cage.
No king he, but perhaps sage?

Upon the hearth the cauldron set,
Hope and wrath by moonlight met,
Magic wrought to meet the debt.

Tower empty, servants fled,
From bard’s hall, the music bled,
The Cauldron fires go unfed.

Morda blind, his faith still true,
Untouched he by that vile hue,
Scorns not infant Afaggdhu.

One old man to feed the flame,
Sad silent this hall of fame,
Help now sought to lift the shame.

The moon she calls far and near,
Gwion answers, knows no fear,
Stewards the hall once so dear.

Twelve tides turn on her quest
For Awen herbs rare and best,
For her son she takes no rest.

Gwion stirs and Morda tends,
Till at last the hour descends,
Then the mighty Cauldron rends.

Sweet Awen drops fly out Three
Past the raven from the sea,
On to Gwion, wisest he!

Knowledge floods within his vein,
Dark infant robbed howls with pain,
Mother turns with livid mein.

Gwion to his heels takes flight,
Seeks refuge in morning light,
Hot pursued by baying spite.

"Fleet of foot and fiery fair",
Shaped by thought, he now a hare,
Red streak flashes beyond care.

Blue skinned, sharp-fanged moon-led witch
Turns herself to howling bitch,
Snaps at hare’s tail, blood so rich.

“In that deep lake I could dive!”
Change again to stay alive,
Salmon now, on weed-bed writhe.

Greyhound savage now goes meek,
Shifts shape into otter sleek,
Hunts fish still in vengeful pique.

"Shelter false, oh for the skies!",
Salmon leaps, spreads wings and flies
Far from water-dog, he sighs.

Lake-sprite jumps and too takes wing,
Hawk-eye spots sparrow's ending,
Deadly flight the forests ring.

"Were I but a tiny grain!",
Hope to deed, he hides in vain,
One amongst a thousand lain.

Hawk upon the threshing floor,
Gulps a seed, then eats some more,
Now a hen in farmer's store.

Eyeless, earless, Gwion small
Hopes for rescue, little fool,
Black death finds him in farm hall.

Chicken clucks in triumph now,
So to end her bitter vow,
Turns to home as great white sow.

Nine lamps light the darksome night,
Her womb fills to fullest might,
A child born to make all right.

Wondrous boy, sister's brother,
Morvran's hate sure to smother,
Set afloat, tearful mother.

On the tides baby carried,
Till in salmon weir harried,
Found by prince, whilst he tarried.

Elphin looks into the bag,
"Radiant brow!" says the wag,
Taliesin named, son of the hag.

Robin Herne

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Collateral Damage

A woman lies in an empty street,
Flies crawl over the rotting meat,
Her pretty smile no longer sweet,
She’s just collateral damage.

A young boy moans in a dusty ward,
His family’s gone so he’s ignored,
A shell fragment severed his spinal cord,
He’s just collateral damage.

The market’s empty, the people fled,
Just dogs remain, and they’re well fed,
I still can’t get it into my head,
It’s just collateral damage.

A soldier stares at his burning tank,
It’s “blue on blue” he’s got to thank,
For Bill, for John, for Bob, for Frank,
But they’re just collateral damage.

An Imam cries in a roofless hall,
His God will not return his call,
His faith destroyed in the missile’s fall,
He’s just collateral damage.

The Torah, the Bible and the Koran,
All claim to reveal their God’s plan,
How can they justify to this man,
That he’s just collateral damage?

The truth lies buried in the sand,
Hidden there by the politician’s hand,
So we’ll never come to understand,
What’s really collateral damage.

That more will die from filthy water,
Than in the fiercest battle slaughter,
It’s not news, though it oughta,
It’s just collateral damage.

Across the sea, a man basks in glory,
But he ain’t telling the whole story,
His electors don’t need to see the gory
Reality of collateral damage.

He is a man well satisfied,
He has restored his father’s pride,
No matter that so many died,
They’re just collateral damage.

Craig

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Cool is my heart

Cool is my heart,
For like the petals I have no care
The sap within pushes, driving me
On, until blossom springs
With release in heady scent
And then:
Owl and Eagle are torn apart
Bloody feathers around Oak branches cast
There I find the exquisite freedom flight
Screeching into silent darkness

Screechowl

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Darkness' Delight and Despair

The day's sun falls to the horizon
and darkened clouds create streamline banks
between which the river skies flow.
The blood-rose, ruby-red sky gives the day away
to darkness' delight and the pre-night twilight
that reigns in its display.
Birds give song as they settle for the coming hours
in which they will rest for a new day.
Darkness falls,
night-time calls,
the silver slick moon shines bright,
millions of stars on drawn curtains of black.
How I love this sight!

Cool still air breathes on my skin that I have exposed
to night and the moon so bright; this delight everyone can know.
Night draws on and the hour grows late,
houses fall dark everywhere.
People sleep,
night creeps,
the hours tick on to darkness' despair.
Nights life undercover, the creatures are awake!
The four legged prowl, winged ones fly,
each has its own things to do.
On each other they prey,
but everything dies,
and so will the night-time too.

By Mike Powell

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Death

The path was here a moment ago;
bright and wide,
a cleft in the old forest, easy to follow.
I hardly noticed when it began to close in.
Some hobblebush,
a bit of honeysuckle,
a gentle narrowing.
Now, across the trail,
a true barrier:
dark hedge of blackthorn,
gnarled branches,
fierce briars,
unyielding.

Off to the left, on the side of the hill,
runs the larger stand
that has sent this arm out to block the way,
to declare,
"You shall not pass!"

To the right,
signs of a marshy stream
buried in the general tangle of undergrowth.
It seems the journey ends here.
To stop, or retreat,
or fade into the forest -
the fate decreed.

The wind stirs.
"Look! Look here! Look at us!"
Away across the blackthorn hedge,
above, toward the sky,
a riot of silver-green
trembling in the breeze:
quaking aspen gathered,
chattering,
calling,
a pulsing beacon in the sun.
Watch the aspen!
Protector, guide, beyond the thorny fate!

Off into the tangled undergrowth,
wading the marsh,
leaving the path,
eyes always upward toward the trembling leaves.
Dark fears dissolve
as the thorns are passed,
aspen leaves showing the way back
to the path.

Here,
on the far side of fate,
the path goes on once more.
As the forest opens,
and the sunlight enters,
an amazing sign:
There, with nuits of wisdom laden,
in the bright light of day,
a hazel stands.

It was there all the time.

OakWyse
Schroon Lake, New York
28 July 2000

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Discordant Flat

I've had this chorus from a Green Day song (Grouch) spinning in my head for days... Anyway, I just woke up with this creation leaking out of my ear. A kind of Discordant Flat. Odd, but here it is.

Chorus:
I was once a young boy with plans,
now I'm just a shitty old man.
I once knew what I had to do,
now I'm just as confused as you.

I was told to go make my mark,
now I've gone and misplaced my spark.
My father said I should get off my arse,
now he's dead and it's soon my time to pass.
Do I tell him I upheld his words?
Or do I say that my life was a curse?
Will he tell me he lost the receipt?
Or will he tell me it was 'sposed to be a treat?

Chorus:

When I was young I would laugh with glee,
but then routine made a slave of me.
Then a young man, I developed a plan,
only five years, it still went down the pan.
At middle age I resigned to my ways,
I piddled all my money on strays.
Now I've wrinkles and my back really aches.
You'd think I'd have gotten used to the stakes.

Chorus:

Maybe I should buck-up my ideas,
while there's time still to pay some arrears.
'Praps I should just throw in the towel,
and waste this gift but I don't know how.
It seems a shame 'cos I've gotten this far,
Maybe I could make a new start?
I think I need a role that's a little more fun,
Something that means I'll get out in the sun.

Chorus:

Yibble

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Dream Sense Drifting

Dream sense drifting;
Drifting high
Across the dark moors,
Where ancient figures,
Shift and merge with the mists of time past;
Not known to me.
And you, my beloved,
With eyes so dark, mysterious and deep
(Windows to the star-born universe)
You with Your jet black, night black hair
Falling wildly about Your shoulders, like a storm.
Consume my very being.
Oh earthy excitement!
Loins meeting loins;
Always the Eternal Virgin
Consummating the Inner Darkness with light.
And always the invitation
Echoing in my ears.
And I seek You,
Where ancient stones
Stand in bleak circles
Solemnly dancing in starlight silence.
And I seek You
In the leafy glades
Of the sun-dappled
Temple of the forest,
Beneath the branching spread of Sacred Trees.
And I seek You,
Where the timeless sea
Tumbles jagged rocks into smooth pebbles.
And there in the dark cleft of a cave,
Where crystalline walls
Glitter and shimmer in the moonlight,
I find You waiting.
Trembling, I approach Your Holy Shrine:
To embrace the “Gateway”.
Flesh dissolving into flesh;
Union into ecstasy;
All dissolving into pure Spirit.
The Priestess and I no more,
Just the knowing;
The infinite knowing!