Gorsedh Ynyswitrin

These are the lyrics to the song “Twilight Zone” which we played at the Gorsedh Final night. It is about how, as children, we think we can communicate telepathically with our closest friends and/or loved ones. Do we unlearn this sort of ability or did we never really have it in the first place? I have seen enough in my life to believe that children are psychic and receptive to extraordinary stimuli in ways that most adults never are…:

Even as I sit here

Yes, I hear, I hear you call

And even though I wonder why

It feels so wonderful;

Even though it sounds strange

I almost see the invisible

And even though we’re far apart

It’s not so impossible…

Chorus

SCREAM AND SHOUT -

JUST LET IT OUT -

I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW!

SHOUT AND SCREAM

AND I WILL SEE YOU

IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE;

WE TOUCHED WHERE NO-ONE EVER TOUCHED BEFORE

AND NOW I KNOW

NO MATTER WHERE WE ARE,

WE’LL TOUCH THE STARS,

I’LL MEET YOU

IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE…

Even as we tumble

No-one else can hear us fall

And even though we’re screaming

We’re still barely audible;

Even if we’re dreaming

It’s still unexplainable

And even as we breathe

We share the unbelievable…

© Tony Atkinson

In response to Tim’s request, i am posting this in the correct place!

My piece on this year’s theme, ”12 Giants: The Glastonbury Zodiac”. The first half is poetry, the second half (beginning ”The Babe in the Boat…”) is a song.

The whole thing is called:

“The Wheel of the Year”

I stand before you as a Poet, first,
A Bard deform-ed through an eversion, not aversion, to verse,
I’m not the world’s worst!
And I’m bursting with discursive inner-healing for the hurts –
I have a feeling that it works…

It’s starting to dawn on me
What I’ve achieved
And even though part of me’s fairly relieved
The Fifth Bard of Glasstonb’ry’s
To be believed

The Western Star of Hesperus
Glows Golden Apples in Eve of Venus
The Fisher King’s Salmon Wisdom
Sprung forth from Ceridwen’s Cauldron

Sunlight on a Winter’s day
Crisply foretells that we’re well on the way
Starlight o’er a Blue Moon Tor
Lights up the night till it’s May once more
The Holly Queen and the Green Man
See Wheels turning, still, they stand
And the next revolution counts
Each to their own in equal amounts

The Bardic year of Ynys Witrin
Spanning two St. Dunstan’s Days
Harmonising Ancient Rhythms
In both new invention and paraphrase

Then my own personal journey
From the Isle of Death to the Isle of the Dead
Seascaped Thanet to Glastonbury’s Promontory
Finding Heartfelt Harmony and Healing for the Head

Am now become an Elder Bard!
And today – JUST TODAY! – am only half
Of the Current Chair
Am aware that there (somewhere!)
Is the next incumbent
Waiting to be chosen
But for now this moment
In time is frozen

So here at the end
Which is also the start
Both Silver and Gold
We are Bards of the Year of the Hallmark!
And whichever way we look, we know
That the Wheel of the Year is on show…

The Babe in the Boat
Holds the Key to the Temple
And Augurs the Return
Of the Once and Future King
Sail across the Moat
To the land of the Templar
Lessons can be learned
So drink it in

WHEN THE TIDE’S IN
THE STARS ARE REFLECTED
AS ABOVE, SO BELOW
WHEN THE TIDE’S OUT
THE MAP CAN BE INSPECTED
THE WHEEL OF THE YEAR IS ON SHOW

The Lady of the Lake
Reflects the constellations
Mapping out the stars
On the earth for all to see
Arthur on the wake
Well-read in incantations
Taliesin’s Words
In Company

Arianrhod’s Maze
Which contains the pilgrim’s Path
Hides the Silver Thread
So the Seeker finds they’re lost
Lapping are the Waves
Round the Measure of Math
The Isle of the Dead
Is starcrossed.

© Tony Atkinson 2011

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.)

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

Yesterday I went back over a little bit of the Phoenix poem that was a part of my entry for this year’s contest for the Chair. This is the whole, new text.

P

Phosphorus:
the lightbearer,
Luciferan element;
glows when exposed to the air -

combusts so readily
it can only be found on Earth consumed
in its own ashes.
It makes fireworks, explosives and matches.

pH

We can measure the acidity and baseness of solutions
with Universal Indicator Paper.
Soaked in a chemical it comes on all chameleon:
Acid mixes turn it crimson red;
Alkalines, Tyrian purple.
The scale is called the potential of Hydrogen -
pH.

Here are two great examples of the potential of Hydrogen:

the Sun,
(which can light fires from a distance
of 100 million miles and eight minutes)
is two thirds Hydrogen;

the Quencher
is two thirds Hydrogen.

H2O

Eternal rebirth.
The ocean is eternally reborn from the rivers.
The rivers are eternally reborn from the rain.
The rain is eternally reborn from the clouds.
The clouds are eternally reborn from the ocean.

O

O, O.
Old O.

First known in the Phoenician alphabet.
Ouroboros,
without beginning or end,

ever-beginning, ever ending,
Oxygen! That which makes sharp:
without apology to Elton John,
it is the Circle of Life.

Oe-

I used to think or assume or perhaps it is more accurate to say
‘fancy’
that there was some etymological kinship between the ‘oestr’ in ‘oestrogen’
and its homophone, the ‘Easter’ of the Christian calendar.

In fact, it seems, not only is this not the case,
but one of the reasons I thought the two were linked -
eggs -
has nothing to do with either word.

Easter from Ēostre from austrō; from the root word for “shine” in Proto-Indo-European.
She was an Old High German goddess of light.
Bonfires were lit for her in Spring.

Oestr-

From the Latin oestrus from the Greek οἶστρος:
frenzy, gadfly, breeze, sting, in heat.
The five-hundred-year itch.

Oeno
Great-granddaughter of wine-god Dionysus
she could give anything she liked a fresh life as that heady liquor
and herself was reborn as a bird.

Oeuf?
An egg, after all.

OE

For us (English speakers) these letters have a special meaning:
Old English
The ancestor of our tongue.
The Phoenix’s ears were burning, though, already when
Anglo-saxon stories
hot in Anglo-saxon mouths
were a thing of the far future.

n

In mathematics,
any number.

At some unrecorded time in the past,
one of our ancestors first told the story of the Phoenix.
At some indeterminate point in the future when we are long forgotten,
one of our descendants will tell it for the very last time.

At any point in between those two tales,
it is forever reborn in the minds  of the speaker and listener
from the ashes of the last time it was told.

This is the nth telling of the Phoenix.

i

The imaginary number -
the square root of minus one -
discovered by a man named Heron.

IX

Here stands, in Roman numerals -
an even older forebear of our language, and still, yet, another
unspoken and unheard until after the Phoenix
had lived, grown old, rebirthed many times -
here stands, in Roman numerals:
nine.

The spilling-over number.
The time is up.
The glass is full.
The nest is built.
Start again.

X

A mystery.

Hail the new Bard and, in fact, all those who took part in this most blessed of Gorsedds! You all did ruddy marvellously to distill such a twisty-turny theme into words, and I should know…

…because this is as far as I got. Four lines! They’re not bad, I’m quite proud of them, but four measly lines! MUST TRY HARDER.

Anyway, by way of a teaser, here they are. Tentative title:

Water Beats Fire

I live on the tip of a Phoenix wing,

Where unfurling feathers sever the turf.

Life on the edge of something so thrilling:

The mythical made physical on earth.

Let us extol the illustrious deeds
Of rough brow’d giants and knights on proud steeds
Questing the Grail.

Across the land named Summer they ride
To reach the shores of these twelve hides
That never paid Geld.

King Arviragus granted to Joseph,
Uncle of Jesus, freedom from sherriffs
And royal judges.

Arrogant Tudors took Somerset’s plums
And gave them to those with oversized thumbs;
Their loyal drudges.

Through aerial photos and recent research,
They’ve found some strange shapes in these ancient earthworks
And an old ditch.

Was it laid out in some mystical path
By Sumerian ancients? Well you may laugh …
But not too much.

Did light-line ley forces lay out the landscape
To form in courses of meaningful shape?
Or was it all planned?

It’s too good to be true, too big to be seen
And what on earth can all these pictures mean?
Who understands?

Castle of Wonders, if giants you seek
Then follow the hunter to where dragons sleep
And dreams are made.

Before the Briton with brave cultured hand
Albion’s giants this realm did command.
Not all were slain.

So listen while I tell you a story
Of giants and bean-stalks, the whole jack-a-nory
In the form of a song.

It won’t take a moment, well, maybe twelve minutes,
One for each giant and then we’ll be finished.
It won’t take long.

—

Came over the bridge from Ivythorn ridge
A beautiful deer, with no sound.
The white dogs of death all panting for breath
Burst through, red-eared, with one bound.
And now we begin, with the Nephilim,
As the Hooded One bends his bow.
He aims past the hounds and beyond the bounds
Of all we can be and know.

Breathe to become, newly burst through the boundaries.
Blazing brow be reborn, boldly blossom in the dawn!
Feel the bliss, be as one. Discipline wins the marathon.
She is bright as the moon, sweeps all bare with her broom.

The lady glides o’er the rippling sea
On the Polden’s western side.
The cradle wind blew the sea-chest of Lugh
And Taliesin’s hide.
The wind will whip King Solomon’s ship
That Pedrog and Bridget brought
Across the languid grey lagoon
To landfall at Dundon Fort.

Laugh for your life, let the wind be your lullaby,
Lilting over the lake, linger long in its wake.
Look, listen, leap, little gold do we ever keep;
Listen, learn, it’s your turn to leave more than you take.

To enter the gate of the royal estate
Needs knowledge of natures nine.
Mananan’s domain, the wind and the rain
And the infinite stormy brine.
The naked knight is called on to fight
And arms, once denied, are sought.
Mighty Titans this very night
Will feel the knife and sword.

Tree trunk align with the spine of the universe.
Roots drink deep from the earth, like starlight your leaves shine!
Hanging all in between what you do and you really mean
Are the keys to the Tree of Life’s great mystery.

Venerable Bran sheds a tear in the sun
For the raven whose fate is foresworn.
The foolish march hare flees to Somerton Fayre
As the fawn and calf are born.
Mountainous Bran, with a fleet on each arm,
Whose force-field would fail if disclosed.
Valiant Lugh, Fomorians slew,
With one stone was Balor deposed.

Float, flutter, fly, face the fear of the day you die.
Pierce the veil, break the gaol, to the victor the tale!
Vindication will come, though the vain may confuse the dumb,
follow fools, you will fall; trust your heart, you will rule them all.

The Wimble Toot witch lives just down the ditch
In a tumble-down past Teifi’s Bend.
She puts up a fight to our surly knight
But he overcomes her in the end.
The spider she spins and silver swans swim
As he studies her secret arts:
The right use of shield; to ride in the field;
And how to strike straight to the heart.

Set aside space for the sacred in everything,
The soothing of sorrows, the suffering’s done.
Sleep, sweet soul, soft the soil nourished for swelling.
Soon the seed that was sown will be grown in the spring-time sun!

Fair is Olwen ferch Yspaddaden
Our hero’s golden-haired prize.
From owl-borne dreams, her prince she has seen
With a raven’s wakeful eyes.
The greatest quest has yet to test
Our hero’s perfidious heart.
Sings the white dove of unselfish love
For without it you’d better not start.

High on a hill is the home of my family.
With hedgerows hemmed in, I am haunted by dreams.
I hear the harp playing heavenly harmonies.
You shall have honey to feed the haughty May Queen.

By Lydford Green, the lightning struck tree
Will point us to the Grail.
Mordred aggrieved did treachery lead
And double death did he deal.
Where Monarch’s Way cuts the Roman road through
The sacred barge set sail.
Pendragon was borne to Avalon’s shores
His damage for to heal.

Do you dare to dive in to the darkness so dizzying?
Deal with despair and the demons you bear?
Drink the nectar divine from the depths of imagining;
Make truth your devotion and open the door to your dreams!

Here’s a tale of two tribes who both knew the truth,
But told it to different tunes:
The one side would hum to the tone of the sun;
The other the timbre of moon.
The Baltonsborough team, in temper so mean,
Attacked the next terrified town.
This troublesome mob on sharp thistles trod
And tangled in thorns, turned around.

Let’s call a truce and take stock of life’s treasury,
temper the steel with the teachings we learn.
The straight and the thin only lead us to misery,
For the truth sometimes twists, but mostly it tends to turn.

On West Pennard Hill the cauldron is filled
And poetry’s nine senses made.
The salmon prevails in Avalon’s vale
Beneath the orchards’ shade.
The unicorn cools its feet in the pools
By the coppice on the shore.
Cocky Jack quick strikes out with his stick
And Cormoran is no more.

Take care to choose consciously like a King or Queen,
Concepts and knowledge in wisdom’s control.
For the cauldron cooks not for the cowardly warrior
But the chalice will serve those who serve the creator of all.

Out of the fog come Gog and Magog,
The gate-keepers of the mound.
The phoenix emerged from grammarye’s urge
And the magic of Merlin’s gown.
Peredur vanquished madness and might
To achieve this penultimate quest
And was that night with marvellous sight
In meditation blessed.

Merry meet, merry part, may you all mingle merrily,
Many mouths may you feed with your manna and mead.
As the moon shimmers down, silver crowning the meadow-fields
Man and woman embrace the impermanence of mortality.

As you may have guessed, there’s one final quest
Against a gargantuan hog.
The bristling boar with threatening roar
Is brought down by Greid’s grey dog.
Billy goats pitch on perilous bridge
And gore the hobgoblin full sore;
His body they throw to the quagmire below
Then shave off his head to be sure!

Gird your loins, take the stage, play the game, gracefully engage.
Though the struggle be grim, truth and goodness must win.
For the greedy will fail and the underdog will prevail
For only the guileless are within grasp of the Grail.

The owl and the goose return to the shore
Of Walton Hill once more,
To wait for the running of the deer
And the light of the mid-winter’s dawn.
Embattling trees encircle Caer Sidhe
For a reckoning of the score.
Some lingering thrall for the sea’s roaring call
Heralds the end of our tour.

Let the bells ring! Now it’s time for us all to sing
One final refrain to this riddling rhyme
And the reason for this astronomical journeying
Is to wait for the hunter to rise again over the ridge.

Oh Albion! What have we done?
To our daughters and noble sons?