Poetry and Fiction

Poetry and Fiction

Author's note: Although technically a piece of satiric poetry, this was originally submitted as part of my storytelling work. Since I am now working on a Rindile (Satirist) concentration, too, I intend to re-submit it as such. Who knows? I might just put it to music and get credit for it four times! (Now if only you could dance to it!)

T'was the Eve before Yuletide and all through the Grove
Not a Druid was sleeping - we were wearing just Woad!

The cauldrons were hung on huge stones, standing still
In hopes that An Dagda, with Mead, them, would fill.

Summer Storm
By: Phoenix, Mugwort Grove

I love summer in the south, I miss it, I miss
that heat that calls me home
that sound, that pulsing sound of the insects
trilling in the background
like a Greek chorus wailing for free,
that heat that shimmers up from the red
packed earth in waves as the day heats up,
that smell like tea from the undulant green
simmering in the hot, heavy air.
When a summer storm is coming,
you can feel it.

The following poems were, like many of our creative works, inspired by our connection with the Gods, Ancestors, and Nature Spirits.

(Originally published in Oak Leaves #2)

Green child, come to me.
My arms are wide to hold you.
Green child, feel human warmth,
like sunlight my love will come to you.
You do not need to hide from me.
I hide no hate. You need no shame.
Green child, play in the light.
Hold my hand, and walk with me.

(Originally published in Oak Leaves #2)

by Richard MacKelley

The Queen Of Ravens walked with me
and showed me all that I might be
when I was slain She took me home
to rise again to flesh and bone.

The Queen of Battle sang with me
underneath the Sacred Tree;
told me the tale of my fate
that would come to me soon or late.

On the Field Of Heroes
She reaped the fallen like the grain
we sojourned in the Summerland
'til Aine sent us back again.

Before all there was the Frost
Wide and Deep, without end
Undifferentiated - the Chaos
Deep That frost was a Goddess
Domnu was her name, and she slept.
Into her sleep crept a dream,
A fleeting thought, a sudden spark
A Fire that caught and grew
And shone amidst the Frost.
That Shining was a God
His name was Bel, and he was awake.
Heat stirs the Frost
She moves in sleep.
She melts and flows.
Dornnu wakens by her lover Bel
So ancient frost made melt
Flows salt and starry, the First Sea,

She who brings forth water,
she who feeds the fire,
helps them live together,

Better than live together.
What is water in fire
or fire in water but us?

Each living cell a drop of water
burning inside, as do we all,
toward more than elemental grace.

Goddess who banks the fire,
goddess drawing from the Well,
goddess of holy fertility.

Farmers, poets, women birthing,
all people of craft living fire, living water,
owe homage to she who brings them together.

(Originally published in Oak Leaves #2)

This life is not my own
I see the forest through my eyes
I feel the breeze on my skin
But this life is not my own
I feel the pain of loss
I cry when the hurt is close
But this life is not my own
I smell the flowers that children bring
I hear the wonder of a child's laughter
But this life is not my own
The world is mine for the taking
Creation is all around
This life is borrowed for a time
This life is not my own.

(Originally published in Oak Leaves #2)

Maypole, flowers, Queen of the May
dance for us, dance for us, dance for the day

Weave ribbons and roses and daisies galore
round staffs, and young heads, then cover the floor.

The Lord, a young man, greets his lover in bloom
in fields and in forests, in every back room.

New life is sprouting in great singing bursts
the flowers, the beasties, the babies come first!

Romp in the green that nature's become
she's wearing her finest to court her dear sun.

(Originally published in Druid's Progress 11;
Repaganized from the Carmina Gadelica)

You go home this night to your home of Winter
To your home of Fall, of Spring, of Summer
You go home this night to the Turning house
To your pleasant rest in the plain of Joy

Rest you, rest, and away with sorrow
Rest this night in the Mother's Breast
Rest you, rest and away with sorrow
Rest, O Beloved, with the Mother's Kiss

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