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 Mar 2011
jeremy wyatt
Rhian took her best milk cow
two sheep skins
and her healthy sow
to Olwen in the woods
of green to plead
for her to intercede..

"Olwen help me if you can
i've just a wee daughter
and a fading man
the sun makes him crawl
when he tries to plough
he never does fall
I don't know how

My daughter is pretty
and her hands are soft
she dreams of spirits
and gazes aloft
her eyes are far sighted
gentle and grey
she is my sweet
and I'll keep her that way

Please send me a boy
to work the land
so my girl can keep
that soft wee hand
before my good man
leaves us all
I need a child
please hear our call"

"Listen Rhian of Pont Erwyd
nothing from me ever is hid
you sit and keep your gifts so kind
sit and listen as I speak my mind

Put your girl into the field,
teach her to farm and tools to wield
she will come to love the work of her hands
as much as any worthy man
Your husband may be hurt inside
I healed his wound when he nearly died
don't worry Rhian oh my dear
He won't leave you for many a year

Send the girl to the Leri for my special grey clay
she must bring it back by the next day
I will throw a *** of ancient form
then work it till the clay is warm
next bring your barley your seeds and leaves
into the *** then these we will weave
I'll fire it and as they burn off in smoke
my timeless words will be soft spoke
they will carry the spell into the air
far out to the goddess strong and fair
a bargain she will make  for you
think on this her word is true

Rhian tell your Daughter Nef
to think and hold a moments breath
what she can have for her long life
does she want to be a wife

Rhian a boy will come to you soon
lie with your man on the next full moon
and if your Nef then makes a choice
she will speak with the Goddess' voice

No girl of quiet soft and neat
Woman of spirit rough hands and feet
striding over the hills and vales
One more Great Woman for the Gaels"

" Olwen you are so right to see
the truth and what will come to be
but keep you  my gifts I'll gladly part
for the words you give and your warm heart"
More work time sneaky poems....will get the sack......shhhhh
 Mar 2011
jeremy wyatt
On a clear day
The sun shines true
i feel its touch
warmth breaking through
but there is so much
I still cannot see
places I will never go
something I'm scared to be
On a clear dayI can see
almost to forever
but I can't find my way to you
 Mar 2011
jeremy wyatt
Springtime is coming from the south
I smell it taste it in my mouth
Calming dreams and precious talks
carrying you in my thoughts
and now there is a warmth and light
that grows a little every night
as I hear the sound of fingers drumming
"wake up soon the spring is coming!"
 Mar 2011
jeremy wyatt
My lady of the darkness
weaving pictures in my head
using night-times gentle quietness
and moonbeams as your thread
the stories that we wonder at
the tales I dream of still
here beneath your loom I'm sat
each thread you weave a thrill
 Mar 2011
jeremy wyatt
My sweet come sleep in the evening sun
now all day's labours and trials are done
lay till the sun fades from the sky
and silver moonlight touches your eyes
bringing dreams of love and mystery
past lives and ancient history
dream of a love that is pure and true
while I sit watching over you
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
We can write of battles and sing of wars
count the dead and keep the scores
but the tragedies hidden in history
the poor wee stories we rarely see

Mothers mourning absent sons
children cold in front of guns
waiting women for the pain
of knowledge that their men are slain

Women make up half the world
give birth to all like flowers unfurled
but history seems to look past them
and cram our books with such great men

In ancient distant Celtic days
the women wise in every way
would help and march beside the men
to guide and heal and be with them

Christian laws came to make them weak
took away their power to speak
stopped the midwife and nature's nurse
said they were witches with a curse

So men at most are children wild
so rarely fit for life great trials
and as a care worn  specimen
my love  is strained for fellow men

The world does change and we can grow
now women heal and use life's glow
to challenge in a subtle way
all of men's damage done today

Easier to take life than create
and to vilify love and strive to hate
but if we stop and count the score
how many women started a war?
Naive I know
a little sad
I don't know
if good or bad
thinking on
men's selfish strife
my woman friends
brought back my life
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
Marred fair in the tower so high
sitting cold and waiting to die
daughters locked way so hard
dragged here from the land of the bard

Your man is fighting in the hills
battling iron with love and will
but his war and love are all for you
spirit strong and spirit true

One day you'll rise and stand beside
and view the woods and mountainside
your children sitting at your feet
your love death never can defeat
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
Sitting outside in righteous cold
no fearful visions to behold
shaking and suffering by my choice
no fear or dread to choke my voice

For all those souls who dwell in fear
I wish that I could hold you near
all the dreadful  uncertainty
please try and send it on to me
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
What do you see on the shore of the sea
is it faces of those who are gone?
Or just the grey skies and powerful lies
and the terrible deeds that were done

What do you hear on the shore of the sea
memories of injustice and wrongs?
Carried away by the spume and the spray
now just echoes of their final song

I stand at the shore of the grey heaving sea
hearing the words of the past
amongst the cold waves I can see distant graves
of the ones who stayed true to the last
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
How far do you have to fall to hide from all this world of pain
down into grieving souls our tears confusing mist
you  struggle with the days and nights where storms of anguish reign
and waver on the edge of choice just trying to  exist

who hears me
who sees me
fear nears me
set me free

Where can you run and who can you tell in this our selfish world
battered by emotion and dread the sadness hammered in
so hard to raise the passion to fly flags of love unfurled
when so much despair is still held inside can you ever win

you must believe
the light you weave
know if you leave
we fade and grieve
Felt some sadness on H P from folk lately in their poems, hope you all feel better soon x
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
Phelisa was a fairy child
of bluebell stock so meek and mild
but in her heart burned flames and fire
fly into danger her desire

once old enough to learn her trade
an uneasy truce with her queen was made
ten years of duty then she is free
to choose her own true destiny

Phelisa born with eyes of fire
outflies the wind no bird flies higher
bravest of all none can compare
Phelisa you must have a care

Be careful watch your little ones
take every day just as it comes
one day the call will come to you
till then protect as we all do

Sweet human children in their beds
hover at their little heads
watching waiting keep them safe
every little human waif

What dreams a Fairy keeps within her flower-soul
and when a warrior small but splendid fair
does not hold watching weans a noble goal
spends hours adding feathers to her hair
so when she flies to battle forces grim
her visage such a terrifying sight
her countenance conveys the chances slim
that any evil will survive the fight

Phelisa where do you go?

Dreams on noble strife and deeds
draw you away to the woods,
but the child you watch is threatened
by a man who means no good


Phelisa drifted to the nursery window, tired from swinging her wee silver sword all day.
Practising her craft with the agile birds and fencing with her friends the falcons.
She was puzzled at the windows edge, she could not understand why the cot was tumbled to the floor, and why the dog howled so.
Then she smelled them, baby cries in the air, hot and sweet and frightened.
And something else Mother was cold afraid.
She cast desperately around the cottage, no sight or sound, but the smell led into the summer evening, mixed with car-smell.
Follow then, if you can little one and help you wee charge.

"I get what I want, or the baby gets hurt..."
Evil swine, all these years hiding and he found her still,
dragged them to the little Austin Seven and drove them to the middle of nowhere.
A quiet wood where noone will disturb them.
Stood there now, screaming baby in his foul fists, eyes full of lust and excitement.
He pulled them towards a small cliff, do what He wants and the child may live, all she could think off, don't and he throws the baby over the edge.
He runs on with them, but frowning, what is this at his feet,the  brown of animals, small warm things keeping pace?
As they run they crush in, making him stumble, making him afraid.
He quickens his pace, strikes out, God they are everywhere get away!
He drops the child and throws the mother to the ground.
Running for his life now, running as  hares and rabbits and foxes swarm around his legs and make him fall over the drop, to his death.

Phelisa comes as the Austin drives  away
Too late to help her features pale and grey
She understands the debt she owes this wood
And makes a vow for its eternal good

Whatever good you did today
I will a thousand times repay
nothing will enter in this wood
that does not come with dreams of good

No beasts each other here will slay
tooth and claw you each will stay
within the confines of these trees
all will live in care and ease

And I will stay with you all here
keep you free from strife and fear
to guard you for the deed of grace
when I was slow and failed the chase

In the rocks at the foot of the drop
evil dwelt
torn faced weasel, twisted and old
Mad man's spirit drawn inside
growing together in their poisoned hate
the loathing of life and love pure
biding its time

For nigh-on thirty years or more
peace reigned upon the woodland floor
beasts walked in fearless glades and rides
no need from tooth and claw to hide
but on one spring day all was fear
Phelisa why are you not near?
Flying out too far this day
following falcons she wants to play
The evil weasel it takes its chance
will lead phelisa a hellish dance

Running into the wood so sweet
pattering horde of weasel feet
heading to hunt and drag away
something small and sweet today
a baby hare they corner at last
he tries to run but cant get past
The Beast with relish starts to whet
his appetite on this leveret
Carry him back then to your lair
frightened meat will taste so fair
down with us among the stones
all we leave will be his bones

Our fairy comes and sees the scene
the fright and fear where they have been
Her vow she has to still uphold
or die as she tries it to uphold

Racing to the weasel's den
at the dark place of the glen
sees the last one running in
sees the hatred and their sin

But at the entrance of the burrow
her fire eyes dim and smooth brows furrow
the weasel entrance is so slim
her Fairy wings won't let her in
But in her burns a fire so bright
nothing will deter her fight
so kneeling in pain she softly sings
as mother -hare bits off her wings

In the deep dark dread is there
terror of the little hare
evil circles all around
forcing it down to the ground
but as the teeth are reaching out
hear the smallest hero shout

"No blood will spill of this sweet thing
my spear and sword and heart I bring
I gladly give my life today
to see this young hare run away"

srtiking silver blade of light
held with all her strength and might
Arthur himself or Great Glyndwr
would not have swung their blades the truer
battles hard and battles dread
blood and bites and screeching dead
all the time she fights them back
not one gets past with its attack
then only one is waiting still
the evil spirit hard to ****
her fairy blood runs down her hair
blurs the fairy face so fair
" You tire and I will **** you soon,"
the weasel spoke an evil tune
But fairy strength is hard judge
and this wee one did bear a grudge
"You took my baby in the past
I failed to reach him flying fast
was not enough but creatures here
they rescued him from pain and fear.
Now I repay them with this life
and cut you with my silver knife
my spear of dandelion form
I plunge into your deadly form
my wings I lost to pay this debt
the ****** back I feel the wet
The pain I carry will all pale
as your foul heart I do impale!"

Her deed was done her battle won
returned the frightened hare's wee son
so proud and fierce a Fairy Queen
The bravest one the world has seen

Epilogue

The terrier and the Rotteweiler were in a frenzy
running wild, tearing at the sheep in a passion of hate
Then the scent of fresh young blood a child
racing over towards the sleeping parents and the wandering baby
the terrier got ahead straining for first blood
Then whispering voices
Tumbling sky flowers pain and blood stillness
Puzzled as it died fairies small and winged crowded its corpse
Blood dripped from their spears.
The Rottweiler drew close, ready to tear them all apart.
Behind them was a hare, armoured with wood and gold, spikes of silver armour, a Fairy Queens gift.
Astride it, scarred-faced and wingless, the old wise fairy sat smiling.
" Stand aside ladies, this one is mine...."
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
Warm child whispers in my mind
singing of quiet safe sleep womb held
wistful quiet too young for words
red glow of inside carried soft
awaiting futures undreamed
new trauma of light and birth
some so precious fade and fail
but we cherish their wee heartbeats still
Another illicit work poem, got to get them out x
 Feb 2011
jeremy wyatt
Calling all the Angels
beckoning them down
asking them to fly to you
worried by your frown
wrap their wings around you
like your mother holding tight
love amongst the grief of loss
you dwell in Angel's sight
I wrote this hiding in work, wrote several today, shhh.
posting them exactly as they are later , warts and all x
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