Tag Archive | poetry

Bi Ann

Bi Ann

Feb

21

Bí ann, bí liom

Bí gasta, bí cróga

Bí cliste, bí cinnte

Bí casta, bí glic

Bí grámhar, gealgáireach

Bí socair laistigh

Bí doimhin ach bí éadrom

Gan teannas ar bith

I do chorp, i do chroí

I do cheann, ins a tslí

Ina chuireann tú tú fhéin i láthair

I pé chomhluadar ina bhfuil tú

Bí ann liom

Bí láidir il-dána

Nuair a chasann an domhan

Bí ann dom

Agus buailfimid le chéile

Nuair a thagann an t-am

Be there, be with me

Be quick, be brave

Be clever, be sure

Be tricky, be sharp

Be loving, light-hearted

Be steady inside

And be deep but be light

With no tension inside

In your body, in your heart

In your head, __

In the way which you present yourself

In whatever company you happen to be

Be there for me

Be strong and be able

When the world takes a turn

Be there with me

And we will meet together

When the right time comes

-Kila-

T’was the night before Beltane – Poetry month

This is what happens when the system goes down at work. Never let a pagan’s brain roam.

                     )O(

T’was the night before Beltane

And all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Well, Brownies chasing a mouse.

The Maypole was hung in the garden

With care

In hopes that the coven soon would be there.

The people were nestled all snug in their tents

Some of them dreaming of bonfires immense

And I in my sleep shirt and she in much less

And just settled in to state of undress.

When out on the lawn arose such a clatter

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the doorway I flew like a fool

And promptly tripped over her mules.

The moon rose high over lawns green and dim

Gave luster to a man who was definitely not slim

Surrounded by Maenads it now did appear

That Beltane was going to be wilder this year.

With a great bowl of wine and a keg by his side

I knew that Sir Bacchus had now just arrived.

“To the Maypole, to the Maypole”, he cried

And I hoped that the cheeses and meat would survive.

The Maenads were dancing and making us dizzy

And I knew that the Priestesses would throw such a tizzy

They were being upstaged by the Maenads crazed dance

That only Radical Fairies even stood half a chance.

I feared for the children’s well dressing to last

The Maenads were sweeping along in the paths

The Maypole was leaning a bit to the south

While I just stood gaping with wide open mouth

He was dressed all in leaves, from head to his toe

With grape vines entwined thoughout, don cha know.

A keg on two legs was found at his heels

I could see that he hardly ever missed a few meals.

His face was so red and shined with a glow

The wreath on his head was tipping just so

He smiled with a smile just full of great glee

He was going to be our most favourite party crashee

He gathered us round and started the dance

We all then joined in for such a fine prance.

Morning came when the sun started to rise

He waved us goodbye from over the rise

“Drink plenty of wine!” He gave us his warning

“Happy Beltane to all and to all a great morning”.

By ElfKat ©2012

Poetry month – camp song

My favourite camp song: Birthright

We, who are born in country places,
Far from the city and shifting faces,
We have a birthright no man can sell
And a secret joy no man can tell

For we are kindred to lordly things
The white owl’s cry and the wild duck’s wing
Pike and salmon, bull and horse
The curlew’s cry and the smell of gorse.

Pride of tree and swiftness of stream
The magic of frost has shaped our dreams
No greater vision the spirit fills
Who walk by right on the naked hills.

Eiluned Lewis

Poetry month – Rudyard Kipling

Puck’s Song

See you the ferny ride that steals Into the oak-woods far?
O that was whence they hewed the keels
That rolled to Trafalgar.

And mark you where the ivy clings
To Bayham’s mouldering walls?
O there we cast the stout railings That stand around St. Paul’s.

See you the dimpled track that runs
All hollow through the wheat?
O that was where they hauled the guns
That smote King Philip’s fleet.

(Out of the Weald, the secret Weald,
Men sent in ancient years,
The horse-shoes red at Flodden Field,
The arrows at Poitiers!)
See you our little mill that clacks, So busy by the brook?

She has ground her corn and paid her Ever since Domesday Book.
See you our stilly woods of oak,
And the dread ditch beside?

O that was where the Saxons broke
On the day that Harold died.
See you the windy levels spread
About the gates of Rye?

O that was where the Northmen fled,
When Alfred’s ships came by.
See you our pastures wide and lone, Where the red oxen browse?

O there was aCity thronged and known,
Ere London boasted a house.

And see you after rain, the trace
Of mound and ditch and wall?
O that was a Legion’s camping-place,
When Caesar sailed from Gaul.

And see you marks that show and fade,
Like shadows on the Downs?
O they are the lines the Flint Men made,
To guard their wondrous towns.

Trackway and Camp and City lost,
Salt Marsh where now is corn–
Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,
And so was England born!

She is not any common
Earth, Water or wood or air,
But Merlin’s Isle of Gramarye, Where you and I will fare!

Poetry month – camp song

We’re a Rainbow Made of children
We’re an army Just singin our song
There’s no weapons That can stop us
Rainbow love is Much to strong

I was born in, Mississippi
Saying yes sir to all the men
But I found that it got me nowhere
So I’ll never say it again

We’re a rainbow made of children
We’re an army just singin our song
Theres no weapons that can stop us
Rainbow love is much to strong

I was taught that black was evil
I was taught that white was good
But when you become a rainbow
All the colors are understood

We’re a rainbow made of children
We’re an army just singin our song
Theres no weapons that can stop us
Rainbow love is much to strong

Poetry month – Catherine Madsen

Heretic Heart
Catherine Madsen

——————————————————————————–

I am a bold and a Pagan soul
A-ramblin’ through this land
I judge the world by my own lights
And I come by my own hand
And if you ask me where I learned
To live so recklessly

My skin, my bones, my Heretic heart
Are my authority

My mother was a singer of tales
My father a dreaming man
And I have swung from the dragon’s tongue
And danced on Holy Land
I’ve sung the seed up out of the ground
And the bird down from the tree

My skin, my bones, my Heretic heart
Are my authority

I once was found but now I’m gone
Away from the “Faithful Fold”
Of those who preach that holiness
Is to do as you are told
Though law and scripture, priest and prayer
Have all instructed me

My skin, my bones, my Heretic heart
Are my authority

Now they tell me Jesus loves me
But I think that he loves in vain
He must go unrequited
On me he has no claim
For the man who would command me must
(Alt: My Goddess is our Lady Moon)
Wear the horn and let me be
(Alt: Whose tides run deep in me)

My skin, my bones, my Heretic heart
Are my authority

And while I breathe this glorious air
An outlaw I’ll remain
My body will not be subdued
And I will not be “saved”
And if I cannot shout it loud
I’ll sing it secretly

My skin, my bones, my Heretic heart
Are my authority