#druids
Stonehenge
by Michael R. Burch
Here where the wind imbues life within stone,
I once stood
and watched as the tempest made monuments groan
as if blood
boiled within them.
Here where the Druids stood charting the stars
I can tell
they longed for the heavens ... perhaps because
hell
boiled beneath them?
Keywords/Tags: Stonehenge, standing, stones, sarcens, bluestones, Druids, star, charts, charting, blood, heaven, hell
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 1:35 AM UTC
Midsummer-Eve: the Flight of the Faeries
by Michael R. Burch
What happened to the mysterious Tuatha De Danann, to the Ban Shee (from which we get the term “banshee”) and, eventually, to the druids? One might assume that with the passing of Merlyn, Morgause and their ilk, the time of myths and magic ended. This poem is an epitaph of sorts.
In the ruins
of the dreams
and the schemes
of men;
when the moon
begets the tide
and the wide
sea sighs;
when a star
appears in heaven
and the raven
cries;
we will dance
and we will revel
in the devil’s
fen . . .
if nevermore again.
Keywords/Tags: Druids, Banshee, Picts, Scots, Scottish, fairies, glade, raven, gull, King Arthur, Arthurian, Morgause, Merlin, round table, knights, England, stone, Excalibur, chivalry, Camelot, Uther Pendragon, Colgrim, Saxon
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 10:09 PM UTC
.
Frozen in rains, cloistering,
So severe in the dark of day,
Is the walled clutch of garden,
No one escapes, a gilded reaper,
Born of fears, promises beyond,
Of joys on the oak nailed pews.
Above the lost naves, who stand
In worship to a ghost, bones bent,
There are cast arches of old sorrows,
Veiling the lighted eyes of the cosmos,
Shutting out even mercies, heavenly
Lights duly smoked of incense.
And slated roof, so statuary cold,
Of aged rock and moss under spire,
That even the doves, as they coo
Are grounded, up muted hollows,
Chimes that merely echo guilts,
By shadows of faithless pride.
.
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 4:08 PM UTC
Tree
The tree of the ancients has stood for millennia in this grove;
So vast is its foliage that no other can grow in its vicinity.
With its strong wooden branches and roots hard as steel, below;
Unseen, but vital, it has risen and it will stand for eternity.
The tree of ages has become eternal and spiritual.
The tree of knowledge has Druids kneeling at its feet.
They dance in the sunlight and contemplate at late night vigils.
The life of the forest entices them naturally.
Their way of life is ruled by the law of nature.
The wind in the air is their voice, through their veins runs clear water.
With words of wisdom they teach all those who are around.
The people who grow with them
And those who are going from town to town.
The noble tree is proudly served.
Its leaves kept as gifts;
From the air to the Earth.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
Frozen in rains, cloistering,
So severe in the dark of day,
Is the walled clutch of garden,
No one escapes, a gilded reaper,
Born of fears, promises beyond,
Of joys on the oak nailed pews.
Above the lost naves, who stand
In worship to a ghost, bones bent,
There are cast arches of old sorrows,
Veiling the lighted eyes of the cosmos,
Shutting out even mercies, heavenly
Lights duly smoked of incense.
And slated roof, so statuary cold,
Of aged rock and moss under spire,
That even the doves, as they coo
Are grounded, up muted hollows,
Chimes that merely echo guilts,
By shadows of faithless pride.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC
THE GIFTS THE DRUIDS FORGOT...
The gifts the Druids forgot,
Imagination or a load of rot?
Envisioning future along the track,
Looking forward, not looking back.
Miracles and prophet's dreams,
Mystic lands blessed by moonbeams,
Heroes and inspiring queens,
Appearing in transit, sight unseen,
Imagination or a load of rot?
The gifts the Druids forgot....
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 3:30 AM UTC