Celtic Mysteries
Windblown moors,
lonely threshold
to nameless northern shore
where dark figures pondered in silence
while wandering uneven paths;
where once the wild men,
blue-eyed travelers,
approached and settled,
marrying to the culture of
redheads and brunettes
becoming part of the Celtic race.
Concealed Stonehenge,
yesterday's enigmas,
creations of mystery are
carved into history,
once part of civilization that
became cluttered in decadence
now crumbling in wearied infirmity.
Their many gods have become
one God, creator and eternal ruler,
adorned in pomp by those who would lead.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
