Pagan Poetry

ArdRi79

We know from the Legends poets were a large part of Gaelic society and practitioners of Crane Magic amongst other things, so I think we as the literary genai that the Irish are should post a few poems related to paganism or tied to our Gaelic culture.

Here's one I wrote a while back, in defiant rage against the motorway being hacked into the archaeologically rich heritage site of the tara-Skryne valley by a government embarassed by our Culture and afraid of our past.

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The wieght of Celtic blood

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What is the wieght of Celtic blood now,
That our heart will be ripped out,
and few here rise to save that,
which the past has bled and fled for

Yet the celtic roar rings from mountaintops worldwide
for justice for the pockets being lined
for the cost is ours the right is ours
to decide we are by heritage defined

That's not to be sold for foriegn gold
but belongs to all our kind
those that fell those still to come
those that know the past's not gone

It lives on, in our hearts, in our DNA
and in our TaraSkryne

The future will remember us as the past
and they will judge our action right
And know when some sold their honor
that there was no going quietly into the night

For we fight so our heritage lives on, in our hearts, in our minds
and in our TaraSkryne.


By James Byrne.

Suaimhneach

I think it is great that you feel so impassioned that you would write a poem, but it seems a shame you wouldnt send that poem to a newspaper to create awareness and maybe enlighten people about the problem. But then I remember this quote from you:

ArdRi79 wrote:

we live in a backwater democracy and bertie is our Boss Hog if he wants to have his inbred cousins build a road theres nothing we can do about it accept show history it didnt go unopposed.

Also, just as a matter of misinformation, TaraSkyrne was the mailing list. It's the "Hill of Tara" and "Skyrne", and it is the "Gabhra Valley" [spellings on gabhra vary] that is under treath of TOLLroad.

I did like your poem though. I wrote one as well a good while back, in Irish. I'll type it up if I can find it.

Tá an cumhacht inar gcroithe,
Tá an cumhacht inar focaile
Agus ar gníomhaíochtaí,
Agus muid ag seasamh le chéile
Laidir agus brodúil,
Beidh ráth orainn,
Agus ar Talamh na hÉireann,
Thugann muid aitheantas don
Saoirse agus an grá
A bhfuil againn mar daoine na tíre seo,
Mar daoine don domhain seo,
Agus leis an cumhacht seo,
Agus leis an grá seo,
Fánfaidh Teamhair agus an talamh ar fád in Éireann mar a bhfuil sí anois,
Saor.

Jessica Ní Chonchúbhair


I know not everyone is a gaeilgeoir so here is a basic translation:

wrote:

The power is in our hearts,
The power is in our words and in our actions,
As we stand together, strong and proud,
We will suceed,
As will the Land of Ireland,
We give recognition to
The freedom and the love,
That we have as people of this nation
and as people of this world.
And with this power,
and with this love,
Tara and all of the land in Ireland will remain as she is now,
Free.

ArdRi79

I wrote The wieght of Celtic blood before every sane legal action had been taken, and before Tara-skryne imploded because of back biting and in-bitching. I never sent the poem to papers maybe I should have, but even if 100 people read it and became mad activists for Tara's cause it wouldnt have made a blind bit of difference to Boss Hog.

A successfull democracy requires the constant vigilance of the people not the lip service OUR people pay to the running of OUR country and THAT lack of that vigilance is why politicians can do as they please. If you're running a business for example and your employees come in late but you dont TELL them its a problem they will think its fine by you if they come in late everyday! leaving you no room to complain because its your own damn fault.

Standing up when Tara is threatened is too little too late, we need to protest every time our government does something unethical not just for the cause du jour.

I liked the ryhming sturcture you used, it gave your poem real dramatic impact, I like the way you broke form the meter in the last line, its rare to see a poem in Irish too, good stuff.

ArdRi79

The Longing of a decendant of Bran, son of Febal

Heavy granite skies opress me,
There's thunder in the air,
While I walk in the hard emerald garden,
And sapphirine eyes are Elsewhere

Elsewhere's a savage garden,
There every flower's a snare,
But in a bower of thorny black roses,
I dream of blue skies of Elsewhere

The wasting sickness of Oengus upon me,
Bright deeds done, a síde set to rout,
Then Sapphirine eyes in another disguise,
In my arms, mine beond doubt

Then all that is, was and will be,
Is consumned in emerald, the fire of my kind
Yet stiring the ashes what do I see,
But a pair, of Sapphirine eyes!

Still heavy granite skies opress me,
There's thunder in the air,
Still I lie in my thorny black bower,
To dream of blue skies elsewhere

Those Sapphirine eyes always haunt me,
The savage flowers have me snared,
And I know there's no peace for me,
'Till I return to the land of Elsewhere.

Explaining myself

This is one of my Favorite poems because I managed to capture the otherworldy feel of the legends in it and most importantly because its about my fiance and after october my wife, woohoo!

Canada is Elsewhere in this poem and the savage flowers and the savage garden are capitalism and the effect it has on people. While in Vancouver I saw people walk by a woman crying on her hands and knees because she was homeless, sickening. savages.

Mick86

I read a poem or perhaps a prayer on a Wicca website a while back which I forgot to bookmark and cannot find again. It was something about the wolf on the path. Any idea what it might be?

ArdRi79

I looked about for one, but I found nothing.
I wrote this afew years back its along the same lines

I was inspired to write this by Blakes poem of the same name, it is about social and more specifically christian hippocracy. Christian hippocracy in condemning the neo pagan religions while they embrace all faiths. dedicated to the memory of Michelle
Tyger Tyger (Sheep in the eye of a wolf)


Tyger Tyger burning bright
on a stake in the night
because she the tyger and you the sheep
the children at her feet do weep

As the ashes in the wind do whirl
Tyger to the mother does return
But Sheep speak not of love in lies
and burn the world in edens stagnant eye

For Tyger Tyger's brother wolf
Loves not, and would your flock engulf
For a wolf to nature must be true
and in wolf eyes Pray means you

supplicate and scorn world your creator made
then with gall pray for the end of days
For a time when the lion and lamb may lay
Know that wolf will remember Tygers name