Journal Entries
A Song for Lugnasadh.
Posted Jul 31, 2003
Now is the eve of Lughnasadh, the time of the harvest when our mother earth releases her bounty upon us. It is the time when the gentle rays of our lord the Sun, our summer king, ripen the grain to full potency so to bring us bread and beer for the dark season to come.
As a bard I celebrate this time with song and dance, and this is my song for this golden season....
The Summer King.
Rising across the moor you dazzle me,
Strike the cool breath from my breast,
Setting this weary pilgrim’s spirit free,
Putting my worldly fears to rest.
Through the day you play with me,
Illuminating many, blinding some,
Dappling my grove’s leafy finery,
Fathering this, my soul’s wisdom.
Through day’s end you gently flow,
Showing more in the growing shadow,
Than a poor mortal should truly know,
About this world of hate and woe.
But in the depth of night’s ebon veil,
You light my sister’s silver reign,
A reminder that you will not fail,
To return and guide me again.
So I sing to you my summer king,
As a pilgrim at your great hall’s door,
Shine upon my thrice-sacred ring,
And let my spirit soar.
Hope, Love and Purpose,
Matholwch /|\.
Discuss this Journal entry [5]
Latest reply: Jul 31, 2003
Bridey’s Song.
Posted Jul 30, 2003
In the morning song I hear her,
Laughing by the water,
Every time she comes along,
She will sing a different song,
Which is why I’ve never caught her.
At the sunrise she is near me,
Whispering while I’m sleeping,
When I get out of my bed,
The poems have all fled,
Or strangely have no meaning.
Bridey, oh my Bridey!
Do you know what you do to me?
Thanks for all that you have said,
This golden fire in my head,
And for singing your song through me.
I am madden by her teasing,
Though I find it oh so pleasing,
I stumble and I break,
Throughout all the songs I make,
Yet her allure is unceasing.
Maybe one day she’ll reward me,
Near the end of this life’s journey,
Let me drink once from her grail,
Before my wit and reason fail,
And hear her song through clearly.
Bridey, oh my Bridey!
Do you know what you do to me?
Thanks for all that you have said,
The golden fire in my head,
And for singing your song through me.
Bardic blessings,
Matholwch /|\.
Discuss this Journal entry [6]
Latest reply: Jul 30, 2003
Happy Solstice!!
Posted Jun 20, 2003
Well, as you might expect, its going to be a busy weekend. So I will say to you all now Happy Solstice, and may the new year of the Sun bless you all and bring you much joy.
Let my joy, from the sky resound!
For I am alive, for I am alive.
Love I have lost, and love I have found.
Yet I am alive, and onwards I strive.
Amongst the giants of our age,
I walk as a child, I walk as a child,
I sit and listen to every sage,
I listen as a child, with a heart that’s wild.
In my life’s autumn, I shall reflect,
On my life’s path, on my life’s path.
And see naught that, I shall regret,
In my life’s path, in my life’s path.
But when I am done, and to earth returned,
My spirit will fly, my spirit will fly.
Freed of all cares, and from love spurned,
My spirit will fly, yet I shall not die.
My children will carry, on my life’s flame,
I’ll go on in them, I’ll go on in them.
And the songs I learnt, afore they came,
Will go on with them, will go on with them.
So as for the journey, that awaits me ahead,
I shall know no fear, I shall know fear.
The road holds nothing, that I need dread,
I know not fear, I know not fear.
Hope, love and purpose.
Matholwch, Resident Druid of this Parish /|\.
Discuss this Journal entry [5]
Latest reply: Jun 20, 2003
The Mystery.
Posted May 23, 2003
A conversation on a thread prompted me to dig this old piece of dodgy doggerel out and dust it off....
The Mystery.
Upon a dark, beshingled strand,
Where sea and sky meet with the land,
I stride across the moonlit sand,
And ponder upon the mystery.
All thoughts of sleep have long since fled,
As on the jewelled beach I tread,
The spirits roil about my head,
In endless, bright cacophony.
And as the waves lap round my feet,
The mistress-moon I do entreat,
My lady would you be so sweet,
To answer just one thing for me?
From what deep and benighted place,
Comes the curse of my mighty race,
A curse that I must daily face,
This hard, irrational fury?
The anger at all those who’d try,
To stick their snouts out of the sty,
Those who’d dare to wonder why,
Is there more that I could be?
Whether we’re Christian, Hindu or Jew,
Moslem, Buddhist and Pagan too,
We are treated as a dangerous few,
A dark and shadowed enemy.
Our craziness is plain to see,
As purveyors of sham and trickery,
Our faith ridiculed upon TV,
No depth to our spirituality.
Yet we do not fight against this lie,
We let it continue by and by,
As we drag each other down to die,
In self-defeating bigotry.
Is the time now not truly right,
For us to step out into the light,
Arm in arm in the spirit’s sight,
And declare an end to enmity.?
For the Moslem to embrace the Jew,
And Pagans embrace the Christians too,
Let our love be sure and true,
And set our hatreds free.
Then we may greet a golden age,
Where we’re released from the cage,
Of our own stupidity and rage,
To become all that we can be.
Carpe Luminem et Tenebrum,
Matholwch /|\.
Discuss this Journal entry [3]
Latest reply: May 23, 2003
Collateral Damage.
Posted May 6, 2003
A woman lies in an empty street,
Flies crawl over the rotting meat,
Her pretty smile no longer sweet,
She’s just collateral damage.
A young boy moans in a dusty ward,
His family’s gone so he’s ignored,
A shell fragment severed his spinal cord,
He’s just collateral damage.
The market’s empty, the people fled,
Just dog’s remain, and they’re well fed,
I still can’t get it into my head,
It’s just collateral damage.
A soldier stares at his burning tank,
It’s “blue on blue” he’s got to thank,
For Bill, for John, for Bob, for Frank,
But they’re just collateral damage.
An Imam cries in a roofless hall,
His God will not return his call,
His faith destroyed in the missile’s fall,
He’s just collateral damage.
The Torah, the Bible and the Koran,
All claim to reveal their God’s plan,
How can they justify to this man,
That he’s just collateral damage?
The truth lies buried in the sand,
Hidden there by the politician’s hand,
So we’ll never come to understand,
What’s really collateral damage.
That more will die from filthy water,
Than in the fiercest battle slaughter,
It’s not news, though it oughta,
It’s just collateral damage.
Across the sea, Bush basks in glory,
But he ain’t telling the whole story,
His electors don’t need to see the gory
Reality of collateral damage.
He is a man well satisfied,
He has restored his father’s pride,
No matter that so many died,
They’re just collateral damage.
Sadly,
Matholwch /|\.
Discuss this Journal entry [10]
Latest reply: May 6, 2003
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