You are browsing the archive for Poetry.

Open Gorsedh 2007

June 1, 2011 in Events, Nine Maidens

2007′s Open Gorsedd was organised in conjunction with the “Megalithomania” conference, which was also being held on the same weekend at the Assembly Rooms. Our thanks go to the Megalithomania team for helping to promote the Open Gorsedd along with the conference. It was with the greatest of sadness that this year’s proceedings had to be conducted without the presence of Tim Sebastion, former Archdruid of Caer Baddon and prime catalyst in the re-establishment of the Bardic Chairs of Albion, who died earlier in the year. This event became quite a moving memorial to his vision.

Nine Maidens

With the theme having been announced by Tim Hall , residing Bard of Glastonbury 05-07, as “Nine Maidens”, the competition was opened to ten contestants each performing for up to fifteen minutes and being judged on the following qualities : Inspiration; originality; working with the audience; presence; emotive appeal; spontaneity; artistry/craft; wisdom and/or foolishness and of course, relevance to the theme.

These qualities certainly were in evidence on Tuesday night, creating quite a task for the five judges, Tony Thomson, Denny Michell, Oshia Drury, Thalia Brown and Krishna Tim, who had to choose six finalists from amongst them for the final on Saturday night.

First to take the stage was Merlin of the Woods, with his beautiful nine part symphony of the Tale of Nine Maidens. As he spoke his story unfolded, he sang his words and played his lute, and the magic of the evening immediately came to life. A true minstrel and storyteller in our midst, really, one thought the evening couldn’t get much better.

Ezmerelda Sanger, an artist who entered the competition as a result of a broken arm, came up with a wonderful performance, the story beginning with the virgin Mary, who gives birth to hope, and then wended her magical way, to bring us up to date with the birth of her own daughter. Her impersonation of Margaret Thatcher being a particularly funny and unexpected note in this gem of a piece.

Craig presented a forthright interpretation of the nine-fold theme with his own brand of high performance poetry.

Marco Koppenhagen gave us a whimsical, bittersweet folksong and a rather humorous treatment of the theme.

Dearbhaile Bradley,who originally had thought the theme to be the number nine, had clearly researched her subject thoroughly and as a result brought to the Gorsedd a most thoughtful piece of poetry, “The Power of Nine,” full of power, stunningly written, and delivered with a passion that had the entire audience hooked.

David Reakes, the Fiddler; told his tale in the style of the Pied Piper, disturbing, original, brilliant. The tale of a wedding, the guests transfixed by a spell, they danced till they became stone. Unfinished was his tale on Tuesday, but still remarkable enough to get him through to the final, we had to wait in anticipation to hear the end of his story.

Tony Atkinson took the theme of Nine Maidens to a genuinely Bardic level, creating his poem “999” with nine verses, nine lines to each verse and nine syllables to each line. His tale of classical allusion was a remarkable structural achievement.

Michaela, a true Bard in the making, has clearly worked really hard on her performing skills since entering last year, and brought us a ballad of the maidens, alluringly sung and accompanied by Merlin, a beguiling performance.

John Johnson’s contribution seemed a little ill-prepared, although pleasant enough, it didn’t really touch on the given theme.

The evening of profound entertainment was wonderfully wrapped up for us by Rohini, who unfortunately had not realized there was a theme for the competition , but was still kind enough to entertain us with his talking drum and his beautiful words. He began with a Sanskrit invocation which then led into a song of three parts. The first part tells us how the sound of nature inspires the song writer, the second of the appreciation of mother earth and the nurturing and shelter she gives us, and finally in the third part talks of the spiritual world, that as we roam the physical world we are each making our personal journey to our spiritual world. This piece was possibly not quite what the judges were asking for, but nevertheless a fine reminder of what we were doing there and a fitting end to the evening.

We were back to the Assembly Rooms on Thursday for open mike night where artists who did not wish to enter the competition were invited to take to the stage. We were treated to a wealth of talent which included more from the fabulous Tim Hall, still the chaired Bard,performing alone as well as with the uber talented Oshia Drury, who also performed solo this evening. Beautiful guitar playing from Tony Thompson, bespoke guitar maker and chair of judges, the deeply haunting sounds of Brian’s vocal improvisation. Kevan, the third Bard of Bath, treated us to his version of the story if Taliesin’s birth. A memorable experience and an honour to be present.

The traditional open air Gorsedd ceremony was held at the Fairfields on Glastonbury Tor and four new Bards: Merlin of the Woods; Ezmerelda Sanger; Craig and Bryan Holder were given the Awen initiation and admitted to the order. We remembered Tim Sebastion and gave thanks for his life and closed with the cry for peace, then the newly initiated bards along with the Elder Bards and the judges made their way back to the Assembly Rooms for the final heat. We were again treated to the six finalists performing their entries, starting off with more wonderful songs from Tim on this, his final evening as chaired bard.

Guest performances included:

Ash Mandrake, Bard of Caer Baddon (Bath);

Kevan Manwaring;

Mark, Bard of Caer Wisca (Exeter);

and Bryan Holder, demonstrating the art of the Awenyddion.

After much deliberation the judges returned with the verdict being eloquently pronounced by the leader of the panel, Tony Thompson.

The Tim Sebastian Memorial Trophy was awarded to Stevie P. and received by Nathan Williams in his absence.

The Deputy Bard’s Crown was awarded to Merlin.

and Dearbhaile Bradley won the Chair


All hail the Bard!

Story: Jo Raphael
Photos: Barnaby J Hodges & Jo Raphael

Share

Open Gorsedh 2006

June 1, 2011 in Events, Gwyn ap Nudd

The Open Gorsedd of the Bards of Ynys Wytrin was held on Saint Dunstan’s Day, the 19th of May, with a preliminary round on the 17th. Entrants were invited to contest for the Chair with its current incumbent, Tim Hall. The theme specified was ‘Gwyn ap Nudd, the King of the Fairies’.

A panel of judges was recruited from the Glastonbury cultural Establishment, consisting of Jo Waterworth, Sonia Guinnessy, Oshia Drury, Tony Thompson and Matt Tweed. The Bardic Council is deeply obliged to the judges, who took on this onerous task generously and, in some cases, at short notice.

The Bardic Trials

The preliminary round was held at the Glastonbury Assembly Rooms, which provided both their usual high standard of informal comfort and two of their permanent staff, Paul Perry and Liz Gilbert, as MCs.

After an introductory song from Tim, the twelve candidates were invited to perform. Each was allowed fifteen minutes, at the end of which a timekeeper would, if necessary, sound a gong. The order of performance was determined by drawing names from a hat.

Jamuna, a well-known local bard, delivered a complex and carefully-timed recitation on the specified theme, its quietly hypnotic verse-forms accentuated by the accompaniment of his Mbira, a small Central African instrument resembling a hand-played musical box.

Tony Atkinson, new to the Gorsedd, introduced a note of classical rigour by reciting four sonnets of his own composition upon the theme, being one for each of the four Seasons, and, as a technical tour-de-force, each representing one of four classical sonnet forms (Tony adds the Wordsworthian form to the usual three).

Bryan Holder performed a most unusual (and untitled) work which he describes only as ‘sound and motion’; essentially a vocal tone-poem or song without words, in which his voice, interacting with the room acoustic as he moved slowly around the whole venue, produced quite unprecedented effects.

David Reakes recited a finely-crafted satirical ballad, using a carefully-chosen verse-form and contriving not only to follow the prescribed traditional theme but also to send up the whole Glastonbury magickal scene; his line ‘It makes all the people wear crystals, and purple’ reduced some of the audience to tears of laughter.

Michaela, by far the most gorgeously-attired bard of the evening, accompanied herself on a Native American medicine-drum and performed two quite different chant-sequences, demonstrating the potentials of her instrument, her voice and the dramatic language in which she works.

Brian Conquer, a bard of long standing, firmly maintained tradition by avoiding modern, experimental forms and delivering a ‘proper’ acoustic-guitar-accompanied, singer-songwriter’s ballad, his kindly voice and gently humorous lyrics providing a fine start to the proceedings.

Derabhaile Bradley performed an impassioned poem on the theme of the banishing of Gwyn ap Nudd and his courtiers from a hilltop by former Abbot of Glastonbury, St Collen. This poet did a fine job of showing how with early Christian myths like this there are ‘two sides to every story’.

Willow, a bard of great experience, delivered an intense and demanding dramatic recitation in a free-verse form, its force and power greatly enhanced by his voice, upon the theme; he then returned to a lighter note with a ballad, accompanying himself on the octave mandola.

John Johnson, possibly the youngest candidate, stuck to traditional ways and delivered a fine ballad, accompanying himself on the acoustic guitar, his style being refreshingly light and informal.

At this point the judges retired, to consider a short-list of six candidates who would proceed to the final. During their absence, a number of fine entertainers who, for various reasons, were unable to contest the Chair, generously gave of their time and talent.

Pok, the Bard of the Loyal Arthurian Warband, delivered an exquisite recitation in which he combined what seemed to be the verse-forms of Chaucerian Middle English with word-forms and phonetic values reminiscent of Anglo-Saxon or even Old Norse, without sacrificing for a moment the comprehensibility of the modern English in which, in fact, he works. This spectacular piece, which few but he could deliver, remains unpublished, though there are hopes that the artist may in the future allow publication.

Haylee, who is 10, and who had not, it seems, arrived with the intention of taking part, confidently took the floor to declaim a poem in eight parts, relating to the eight major Celtic festivals, which she had written entirely during the course of the evening. This impressive standard of creativity and drive surprised many older and more experienced bards.

Emma Harper, widely-known singer/songwriter, was able to find time in her busy schedule to perform several of her impassioned and heartfelt songs. Kev the Poet, of the LAW, and Singing Horse, who recites in the Lakota language and had travelled all the way from Oregon, also provided excellent entertainment.

On the judges’ return, it was announced that Willow, Dearbhaile Bradley, Michaela, David Reakes, Tony Atkinson and Jamuna were to be the six finalists.

The Open Gorsedd

The final round was held at the White Spring, the Guardians of which most generously allowed the use of this unique, and only recently restored, sacred space for this purpose. The Bardic Council, somewhat surprised at the numbers of people who attended, would like to thank the Guardians for their patience with and tolerance of a much larger audience than was expected, and to confirm that next year’s final will, in the light of this, be held at the Assembly Rooms in order to accommodate more people comfortably.

Before proceeding to the White Spring, a Gorsedd circle was held in the Fairfield (beneath the Tor). All of the candidate Bards, members of the Bardic Council and many of the audience attended. Dignitaries present included the Maenarch of Avalon, the Faerie Queene of the Glastonbury Outer Order of Druids, and Mr. Tim Sebastian, Archdruid of the Secular Order of Druids, present in his capacity of Elder Bard of Caer Badon. As part of this ceremony fourteen of the candidates and the Council accepted formal initiation by the Chaired Bard of Ynys Wytrin.

The artists appearing in the final did not alter their performances significantly from those given in the preliminary round, though it was clear that the latter had been substantially polished during the intervening days. Denny Price acted as MC, managing as well as did the performers the White Spring’s strongly ecclesiastical architecture and acoustic.

By the end of the finalists’ performances so many people had come to listen that there was nowhere left at the White Spring to which the judges could retire; accordingly they retired to a private house. The audience were then treated to a repetition of Pok’s fine recitation; Pixi, the famous Glastonbury singer/songwriter, arrived and, despite an unfamiliar guitar, produced a fine rendition of some of his memorable folk repertoire.

Sarah Curtis, lead singer with folk band Savernake, performed a beautiful song written specially for Mayday. Entitled ‘Bear and Swan’, the lyrics had no specific reference to the ‘King of the Faeries’, but the image of the banishing of the darkness by the light was perfect for the time of year.

Theo, from ‘Seize the Day’ sang one of the band’s more mystical numbers, ‘Child of the Universe’ and Nathan Williams, a local musician and teacher who also gave many hours of his professional time to the task of organising the Gorsedd, delivered in both Welsh and English ‘Propaganda’r Prydydd’, translated as ‘The Poet’s Propaganda’, by R.Williams Parry, a sonnet on the qualities of a true Bard, and sang ‘Woven are the Ways’, a song from Penmaenmawr; Merlin also performed a lengthy incantation to the Goddess Bridgit (or Brigit, or Bridie, or Her other names).

Eventually the judges returned, looking somewhat worn, and amid a frenzy of excitement it was announced that Tim Hall’s tenure as Chaired Bard of Ynys Wytrin was to continue; none of the candidates were judged to have exceeded the standard of Tim’s winning performance.

The formal Chairing then took place. Denny Price and Oshia Drury robed the re-Chaired Bard then the Silver Branch was presented by Shamus Joy as Honorary Grand Bard on behalf of the late Richie Bond and representing the lineage of Bards of Ynyswitrin, Tim Sebastien then completed Tim’s formal initiation as Grand Bard with the presentation and recitation of the Qualification of the Bards, following which Tim played the winning song, ‘The Ravens‘, as an encore.

The event being officially over, the informal entertainers once again took the floor, Pixi forming an impromptu duo with Helen Tucker, a fine local folk violinist; the entertainment did not stop until the venue finally closed.

The Bardic Council are deeply gratified with the response to the Open Gorsedd and once again would like to thank everyone whose time, effort and talent went into making it such a fine event. We all look forward to next year’s Gorsedd, which we hope will be even bigger and even better.

Presenting the Bards of Ynys Witrin

Thanks to the industry of Nathan Lewis Williams we have audio recorings of many of the contenders and performers available.

  1. The Ravens – tim hall
  2. Loom of the Thirteen Moons – Willow
  3. Stonehenge Chant – Mikhaela
  4. Gwynn ap Nudd – Bryan Holder
  5. Gwynn ap Nudd and St Collen – Dearbhaile Bradley
  6. Tor Story – David Reakes
  7. Roots and Leaves – Emma Harper
  8. Gwyn ap N*dd – Pok
  9. To Infinity and Beyond – Kev the Poet
  10. Explication
  11. Home AgainPixi
  12. Wheel of the Year – Hayley
  13. Bear and Swan – Sarah Curtis
  14. Gwyn’s Song – Dreow Bennet
  15. Woven are the Ways – Nathan Lewis Williams
  16. Propaganda’r Prydydd – Nathan Lewis Williams
  17. Why have a king at all? – Pok
  18. Child of the Universe – Theo
  19. Song for Bridie – Merlin (dedicated to Tim Sebastian)
  20. Poem 1 – Pixi
  21. Poem 2 – Pixi

 

Share

Nantosuelta

May 31, 2011 in Poetry

Here’s my tongue-in-cheek response to Wes ‘ ‘Sucellus’ which made me wonder what it would be like to be Sucellus’ partner, Nantosuelta.  Sooo… A Celtic God and Goddess go on a first date -

Nantosuelta 

When Sucellus first came to me, a mighty hammer hefted he
“Your symbol is a pallusy” I quipped, “unless you wield it expertly.”
He winked, I blinked. He stripped: bare as butter with a beard.
“Drink?” My patera, being wet, I proffered nicely, when shyly
he paused, “You’ll have to put down the bees,” he breathed.

“Why?” Queried I, “For my honey-drizzled hive provides remedy
for happenstances occurred by the raven ‘neath my left knee.”
He blinked, I winked. He bit his lip: bold as barley’s grizzled ears
“I have been down below, before!” He scored, ‘My olla stores my seed!”
Wildly he splashed his chest, libation, lubrication, all of mead
- and so wildly did we do the deed, that from us each rose galaxies.

 

********

patera -  ‘a broad, shallow dish used for drinking, primarily in a ritual context such as a libation’

olla  -  ‘a round pot’

 

Share

The lost children

May 27, 2011 in Poetry

Set yourself free,

Now,this moment,

You are becoming who you wish to be!

 

You are the wildness of nature,

The sun,rain,wild wood,

Ever-transforming,becoming the ‘heart of good.’

 

We are ‘the Now tribe’,

Seeking to understand…..

 

Transmute emotions,

Kindle your light,

Show cosmic devotion,shine your inner-bright…..

 

Find that which ignites your joy,

Drop burdens ,

Let your inner- wisdom guide you…….

 

In truth and love may we stand,

‘Heart to heart and hand in hand.’

 

Let inflated ego dissolve

So in peace and understanding evolve

Into someone brighter,lighter….

At this time of the un-sacred absurd

Heed the words of the wise,

Let them be heard!

 

May we,’the lost children’ once again be found,

To a place of clear insight upon sacred ground…

 

(Written on 29/5/11)

Share

My first ever poem

May 26, 2011 in My first poem, Poetry

This is my first ever poem, it was written when I was seven years old, in felt tip pen, on one page of an adventure gamebook called ‘Grail Quest: The Castle of Darkness’. This was the first book I ever bought for myself, it’s the kind of book where you role dice and fight monsters.

My justification for posting it here? Well, the books (they are a series) are set in a rather idiosyncratic version of Camelot and have more ‘Grail questing’ in them than I realised at the time;  for example, although even back then I recognised Merlin, who is the reader’s guide to the magic world of the books, one of the recurring characters is Pellinore… In this particular book he’s encountered on the way in and out of the Castle in question. You carry a sword called Excalibur Junior, and your character lives just a couple of miles outside of Glastonbury. More about them here.

The recurring character who’s important here, though, is the Poetic Fiend. The Poetic Fiend is a friendly vampire who writes doggerel, and encourages ‘Pip’ (that’s the name you take as the quester) to write himself. A blank page headed “Pip’s Poem for the Fiend” gives the space to do it.

Anyway – with apologies for my faltering junior school spelling – here’s what I, as Pip, wrote for the Fiend; my first ever poem, written in a magical reworking of Camelot, under the watchful eye of a friendly vampire. Those who’ve seen my performances at the Open Gorsedds will note I appear to have been obsessed with birds from the start.

PIP’S POEM FOR THE FIEND

All my poems
I forgot
I could tell you
Cwite a lot

When I go
I’ll sae goodby
I’ll come back
When I see a bird fly.

 

For my efforts, the Fiend rewarded me with one gold coin, and told me to “spend it wisely, on some foolishness”.

Share

Brides Of Beltane

May 26, 2011 in Poetry

Brides of Beltane

 

Rhiannon, blood-red Rhiannon

says she’ll carry you between the worlds

on her white mare of the sea

but none may pass between the worlds

who does not pass through me

and I am emptiness

 

The call of magic birds

twined in yonder apple tree.

In kissing blossom,

feather-breasted caress for all to see

but none may meet the heart of love

who does not pass through me

and I am emptiness

 

The hollow beneath the hill,

hidden catacombs,

plumming depths of red raw love

the blood of wounded wombs.

She who dares to pass beneath

tames the inner beast,

yet not maid may set

her sexual centre free

who does not pass through me

and I am emptiness

 

Beltane hands her shy north maids

to the sonorous southern waters;

Rhiannon’s wild spring fire

to the earthy rust of autumn.

Matrimonial mother;

celebrante of her daughters.

Toast Mead!  Rejoice!  Revere 

these symbols of false unity -

yet, none may enter heaven

who will not marry me…

Earth is of age

and I am shivas ling

impregnate seed of eternity

and I am emptiness

 

So come sweet Brides of Beltane

turn petal lips to the setting sun and

cheeks to the dew dropping east,

wear your veil of frost and lace like

lambs to the throat of the beast.

Surrender tender maidenhead

to the dark heart of uncertainty.

Like willing sacrifces leap

in love’s abandoned totality

thine self to honour and obey -

self-cherishing; replete.

This bridehood needs no apparell, no white mare and no

dove-feathered trickery.

This marriage is the final vow

with no empty oath of husbandry.

The emptiness of which I boast

is your amazed eternity.

In this guilded mirror – this silent lake,

see one sacred face, ever surrendered,

lily pale, in union’s still beauty.

As all the Gods of all the ages

bows to honour thee.

Share

These Immortal Dreamers.

May 25, 2011 in Poetry, Twelve Giants

I was made from a zodiac

embodied upon this earth,

from the mounds,contours,rivers and roads

giving birth to this ‘Caer Sidhe,’

‘The Logres’,'The Land of Faerie’.

From this isle of Avalon, a living stella sanctuary,a timeless Sumarian mystery…

From this glad haven of perpetual Summer bliss was I made,

From these giants longings amongst the everglade.

 

From the roots of the earth to the furthest star,

from 12 Immortal dreamers dreaming from afar,

From valley and curve and slope so fine,

From the heartfelt whisper of the divine.

 

I was the wisest of Druids gaining star knowledge

from a great observatory; that of the Tor of Glastonbury,

amidst a sacred precinct wher strong energies flow,

in and out of the earth they go,

as dragon lines flow like star paths link constellations,

for heaven ad earth are bound by such interrelations.

Betwixt the starry realm of spirit and this earthly prison am I,

Spinning, whirling above the Caer Sidhe so high.

 

I was made from this lyrical landscape of Avalons fair Isle,

from the sword of Arthur,from Guinevere’s smile,

from a place where the holy islands lie,

reflecting the Plough,the Bear in the sky.

from the sacred lore sof this sacred place,

here primal energies interlace.

(This Isle of Glass is indeed an illuminating space.)

 

I was born of the earth star and simultaneously the pole star.

As above ,so below,

from Taurus to Scorpio,

this earthly paradise I do know.

 

Here,indeed is a place of initiation and transformation,

these immortal dreamers of the Zodiac,

twelve unique terra- constellations.

 

Pisces, the leaping salmon of wisdom of Wearyall Hill,

The virgin Virgo at Babcary, serene and still.

Capricorn of West Pennard stirs the cauldron of inspiration,

this goat and God Pan stretch through all time and evolution.

The dove of the Awen in Barton,Libra, of draco and diva

shines three rays of light,

Her spirit like clear water is pure and bright.

At Compton Dundon, the Sumerstars are where Gemini the twins reside,

Aries of Street possesses great courage and pride.

I arose from the chaotic fire phoenix of Glastonbury Town,

where Aquarian star-seeds are sewn.

I have celestial knowledge from the beginning of time,

Ever walking this landscape, serene and sublime.

 

From all twelve signs of the Zodiac was I made,

Thirteen including the Girt dog of Langport (to whom attention is NOT always paid).

I was made from thse Giants rememberances,

From golden stardust embraces and misty interfaces.

I came from these giants breath upon the land,

from the forests, rivers,fields, clay and sand.

 

I have known the wit of the Bard,

ecstatic words spoken ,or flowing through the Ox pen,

Dancing eternally,to return again.

For all is one and we’re part of the one,

our Zodiac journey has only just begun..

 

For is it not they,’these immortal dreamers’ who dream us awake?

To call once again upon the Fisher king, The Lady of the Lake?

King Arthur’s table, the Glastonbury Zodiac remakes.

To drink again from the maiden keepers of the Wells

in a land of ‘living legend’

where the grail truly dwells…

 

(This poem  and small song was inspired by Taliesen’s the Nine elements,the energies of Avalon and the spirit of past,present and future Bards and Katherine Maltwood who was a visionary artist who dedicated most of her life to land mysteries.)

 

 

Share

Entry for 2011 competition

May 25, 2011 in Poetry, Twelve Giants

The twelve Giants of the Glastonbury Zodiac

On this magical Isle where we stand through time

Stand on the earth where the wind whispers her rhymes

Where our feet connect to this earth of hers

Hearing the call of nature in the songs of birds

Where standing now looking through the mists of time

It comes to me, how I need to tell this rhyme

 

That this magical Isle is but a place

Where what we see can be different in every face

Where one person may just see the face of the Tor

With morgen crows flying over land once more

Another may see levels stretching towards the sea

Animals grazing and birds flying free

Where others may notice the magical water that falls

Over this magical Isle that is this home of ours

 

But wait, just wait, a moment in time

Where a person saw twelve giants of rhyme

Twelve giants reaching out their magical hands

Twelve giants of the Glastonbury zodiac upon the land

 

Is the Tor we see our real or reality

Does the land really stretch towards the sea

And as we step upon the land

Are we putting our feet in twelve giants hands

Do they take us back through time

To reconnect with nature and her magical rhymes

Is what we see really there

Do twelve giants form a circle, earth to air

Each person will see a different view

Hear different music, see colours of different hues

 

If I open up all of me to what I see

What if feel and what I can be

I can fly on the wings, the wings of the air

Look on the land, see what is there

You can come along and fly with me

But it’s for you to discover the view you will see

 

written in Chalice Well meadow – 2 March
2011

 

Share

The Phoenix

May 25, 2011 in Poetry

~ The Phoenix ~

Firebird leaping from the flames
embrace our visions
in your incandescent wingspan

Born naked as flesh,
yet clothed in dreams
we stumble from our birth-fire
crying for innocence

Each wingbeat is a prayer
of iridescent consciousness
catching whispers cut in ash
and turning them to gold

Your song of transmutation
is the song of souls
wheeling on a path
across the arc of nights millennia

through the infinite depths of heaven
to settle at my door
- a hail of ash and murmurs

If I press my palms out
to feel the grainy textures -
can memory mirror to me
a deeper knowing beyond truth
beyond great mystery?

The spirit trail
has no signposts visible
except the Phoenix of our lifetimes
and the key to the door is love
the key to the door is love

Share

All that glitters is not gold

May 25, 2011 in All that Glisters, Poetry

Have you heard of the tales of ‘glamourie’?

Long since practiced by ‘the sidhe’ and still practiced by ‘he’ or ‘she’

In this fair town of Glastonbury?

 

Beware the ‘glamourie’!

Gwynn up Nudd invited a Christian monk to see

His faerie halls and banquets of great revelry

But holy water he did throw upon Gwynns parade of pomp and show,

Left Gwynn abandoned on the Tor through wind and snow.

 

Strange masked face at the ball,

For nothing is ever at all what you think you see,

Watch out for ‘pixie trickery!’

 

Glastonbury draws ‘cosmic cadets,’

‘kaleidoscopic travellers,’

pagan princesses’ and ‘psychadelic faeries ‘(to name but a few).

 

Let us not forget to live in honour by stone,sea,leaf and tree..

What glitters most dances upon the sea,

In a droplet of dew lives aworld of endless possibility,

What glitters most are the waves of your soul,

Beating against your heart-shore to make you whole…

 

So do not be bought by these trinkets of a false spirituality,

Watch the mindless beaurocracy fall,

Replace it with something more beautiful,more natural,more magical.……

 

Share the ‘nectar of inspiration,’

Smoke that ‘pipe of peace,’

May the greed and destruction come to cease!

For you see all that glitters isn’t truly gold…

 

Be warned of ‘the glamourie’,

Don’t get burnt like the moth travelling to the light,

Be ,instead in your gold of pure delight..

Reach, ever-reaching back to stone, sea, leaf and tree..

Go beyond, far beyond ‘the glamourie’.

 

Dive into this moment, it’s already here!

Live a life of freedom, without the fear,

(Say the wise ones of today and yesteryear.)

 

Fill yourself with that golden light of you

In your own golden light be true.

To be me is far beyond ‘the glamourie’.

 

For we are the harmony, the harmony  is us,

It lives in the lovers first and last embrace,

In our most silent ‘heart space’.

For you do not need ‘the glamourie,’

just ….

b r e a t h e ….

For the gold…

the real gold….

the true gold is …..

to have a heart of gold…..

 

(Finalist  poem in 2009 Bardic Finals of YnisWitren)

Share

The Power of Nine

May 24, 2011 in Nine Maidens, Poetry

Oh you maidens, numbered nine,
Who dance your way cross
Land and time: witches, sisters,
Oracles, shape-shifters.
What’s your wisdom?
What can you teach us?

Nine skerry-brides powered the mill,
Ground out the world
From the ice giant’s bones.
Nine sisters were nine mothers
To the hero Hiemidalir.
Nine Valkerie bring the brave to Valhalla,
As nine Morgana guide Arthur to Avalon.
There’s nine maiden mountains
And nine maiden wells,
Nine maidens painted on a cave in Cogal,
Nine witches of Caer Lyow,
Nine sisters of Mont Dol,
Nine ladies of Stanton Moor,
Nine maiden circles at Maldron,
Boskaden, Tregaseal, Waldron,
Nine druidesses of the Isle of Sien,
Nine who dance the Full Moon Rites,
Nine maenads and nine muses,
And then, with Cerridwen,
There’s nine whose breath kindles the fire
That heats the potion with the power to inspire
With Wisdom, Knowledge and Prophesy,
The initiate, willing to risk
All that they are in the name of truth.

In time, out of time, by time, through time,
Everywhere you look, you find them.
Thrice times three, trinity of trinities,
Over and again in myth and legend
These nine maidens weave their enchantment.
What’s their secret? What’s the mystery?
What do we learn from nine maidens’ histories?

Nine is the number of initiation.
Nine is the number of endings and beginnings.
Nine is the number of inspiration.
Nine is the number of transformation.
Nine moons to bring forth a babe.
Nine planets spinning round.
Nine dimensions to time.
Nine is the centre of all things.
Nine is the still point in the wind.
Eternally reoccurring,
Thrice time triple, nine-fold magical,
The power of three by the power of three
Can bind the world to our will.

Oh, you maidens who ever weave
In and out the fabric
Of time and place and story,
You nine whose sacred breath
Warms the cauldron of Cerridwen,
I stand before you now
Calling on your power.
I am a willing initiate
And I would drink
Of the cauldron of inspiration,
Of the potion of truth,
Open to the wisdom
Of those who’ve gone before.
I would know the nature of Awen,
Flowing of spirit,
Essence of life in motion.
Speak to me now.
Speak through me now.
Speak with the true voice of prophesy.
However we have called on you before
We have never needed you more.

“You have chosen this incarnation
To be part of the transformation
Of this sick ‘civilisation’,
Of an end to waste
And an end to greed
And the dawning understanding
Of what you truly need.
Listen to your hearts
Find the truth that’s beating there.
Open to your longing
For right living in the world.
Know that it is possible
For the point of power is now.

These are the most important things:
Hold your vision. Love with passion.
Speak your truth, and also listen.
Open to the dreams that call you
To a truer manifestation
Of the spirit of creation
And honouring of sacredness.”

It is time to own your power.
Heed the maidens’ message.
Eternally reoccurring,
Thrice times triple, nine-fold magical
The power of three by the power of three
Can bind the world to your will.

Share

9° = 2° Magus

May 23, 2011 in All that Glisters, Poetry

one of eleven pieces from my entry for the 2009 gorsedh (deputy bard year!) double acrostic in golden triads of olde english bang-bang-bang-crash style

9° = 2° Magus

THE CATACLYSMIC CROW’S ORIGINS
OUTLAST OLDER, OUTMODED NONPAREIL
NATURAL NESTLINGS’ NECROMANTIC TREMBLE

YAWNINGLY YOUTHFUL, THEY YEARN FOR AMORE
AS SYMMETRICAL SWAN SWEETHEARTS TRIP
THE LIGHT LAMPTASTIC, LUMINATING, YELLOW

KINGFISHER, KITSCH KIPPERTIE, IGUANA
INTIMATE INCANDESCENCE, ILLUMINATORY NAVEL
NOW PEACOCKS’ PATTERN PUZZLE’S GIVEN A KICK

SINCE UNIONS, AS UNICORNS, ARE UNIQUE IN EACH OUTCOME
OR CO-ADEPTS CAN CRYSTALLISE NONGENDER
NEEDLINGS, THOUGH, MUST NURTURE THE NUANCES OF THE SCARAB

CRIMSONLY, THE CONCUBUS CLIMBS DOWN FROM HIS REGALIA
REAUDITING THE AURICLE, THE AUGURAL ”HE ART” AND ”E AR”
AS PELICANS PLUNDER THEIR OWN PLUMAGE FOR THEIR CHILD

BE A PHAROS TO THE PHAOROAH OF REPHOENIXED EGO
EMBRYO ENHALOES THE ERSTWHILE ALOOF
AS SHAPESHIFTERS SHUN RETRIBU-SHUN! BEAMINGLY

RECALCITRANT CERRIDWEN’S CAULDRON FOR TALIESIN
TWINNED TEMERITY TO THE TWICEBORN’S HUMILITY
HOW THE SHININGBROW SHIMMERS AS SHOWTIME RESOUNDS

MY OWN MONKEY MISCHIEF IN ITS OVERFLOW
OUTWHEELS THE OUROBORUS, AS ONENESS TO ALL NUCLEI -
NON-SEQUITURS’ NONSENSICAL NON-ENTITY IS MISS-MAINTENANT

KEY TO THE KINGDOM OF KINDOM IS THE ELIXIR
EACH GOLDHAWK IS GOADING HOW GOLDEN’S THEIR YOGI
YIELDING FROM THE YOKING OF YINYANG, BECAME! (KNOWN)

© Tony Atkinson

 

Share