The Pictish Faeries

The Pictish Faeries by Michael R. Burch Smaller and darker than their closest kin, the faeries learned only too well never to dwell close to the villages of larger men. Only to dance in the starlight when the moon was full and men were afraid. Only to worship in the farthest glade, ever heeding the raven and the gull. These are Arthurian poems I have written that look back to the ancient Celtic myths that inspired and informed many of the later tales of King Arthur, Lancelot, Merlin, et al. Midsummer-Eve by Michael R. Burch What happened to the mysterious Tuatha De Danann, to the Ban Shee (from which we get the term “banshee”) and, eventually, to the druids? One might assume that with the passing of Merlyn, Morgause and their ilk, the time of myths and magic ended. This poem is an epitaph of sorts. In the ruins of the dreams and the schemes of men; when the moon begets the tide and the wide sea sighs; when a star appears in heaven and the raven cries; we will dance and we will revel in the devil’s fen... if nevermore again. Pellinore’s Fancy by Michael R. Burch King Pellinore was famous for hunting the Questing Beast, a rather odd, fantastical creature. Does its name suggest that the beast was dreamed up, or invented for the purpose of questing after it? Perhaps Pellinore simply didn’t want to stay home and needed a good (if farfetched) excuse to furnish his wife ... What do you do when your wife is a nag and has sworn you to hunt neither fish, fowl, nor stag? When the land is at peace, but at home you have none, Is that, perchance, when ... the Questing Beasts run? The Kiss of Ceridwen by Michael R. Burch The kiss of Ceridwen I have felt upon my brow, and the past and the future have appeared, an eerie vapor, mingling with the here and now. And Morrigan, the Raven, the messenger, has come, to tell us that the gods, unsung, will not last long when the druids’ harps grow dumb. The Wild Hunt by Michael R. Burch Few legends have inspired more poetry than those of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. These legends have their roots in a far older Celtic mythology than many realize. Here the names are ancient and compelling. Arthur becomes Artur or Artos, “the bear.” Bedivere becomes Bedwyr. Lancelot is Llenlleawc, Llwch Lleminiawg or Lluch Llauynnauc. Merlin is Myrddin. And there is an curious intermingling of Welsh and Irish names within these legends, indicating that some tales (and the names of the heroes and villains) were in all probability “borrowed” by one Celtic tribe from another. For instance, in the Welsh poem “Pa gur,” the Welsh Manawydan son of Llyr is clearly equivalent to the Irish Mannanan mac Lir. Near Devon, the hunters appear in the sky with Artur and Bedwyr sounding the call; and the others, laughing, go dashing by. They only appear when the moon is full: Valerin, the King of the Tangled Wood, and Valynt, the goodly King of Wales, Gawain and Owain and the hearty men who live on in many minstrels’ tales. They seek the white stag on a moonlit moor, or Torc Triath, the fabled boar, or Ysgithyrwyn, or Twrch Trwyth, the other mighty boars of myth. They appear, sometimes, on Halloween to chase the moon across the green, then fade into the shadowed hills where memory alone prevails. Published by Celtic Twilight, Celtic Lifestyles and Auldwicce Small Tales by Michael R. Burch According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend most of their free time drinking and puking . . . When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr were but scrawny lads they had many a boozy adventure in the still glades of Gwynedd. When the sun beat down like an oven upon the kiln-hot hills and the scorched shores of Carmarthen, they went searching and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr. They fought a day and a night with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten), rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer and told quite a talltale or two, till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true. And these have been passed down to me, and to you. Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, Arthurian, Camelot, round table, knights, England, stone, Excalibur, chivalry, Uther Pendragon, Druids, Banshee, Picts, Scots, Scottish, fairies, glade, raven, gull, Morgause, Merlin, Colgrim, Saxon, King Pellinore, questing beast, hunt, legend, myth, wife, nag, hag, Ceridwen, white, witch, enchantress, sorceress, crone, cauldron, awen, throne, Morfran, power, Wales, Welsh, Druids, Morgause, boy, boyhood, booze, drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Celt, Celtic, Cornwall, Tintagel