Best Lir Poems
The Wild Hunt
by Michael R. Burch
(King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table have been reported as ghostly hunters, near Devon, around Halloween.)
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, Boston Poetry and Auldwicce. 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. Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, wild hunt, hunting, Halloween, England, London, Artur, Bedwyr, Valerin, Valynt, Gawain, Owain, Devon, Wales , romance, romantic, myth, mythology, legend, legends, night, sky
Nov huine i lost ungwe'eva
Tiro!
I ungol raea mi mor du'eva
Edro thalion heni a lir i lissi silme galiel i
Tenn'umbar i loy linant
dim ri'eva,
Thin na i lost ore mi
anca iaeva. A! I
ungol undulavant alag
amarth'esse.
__________________
The hollow gloom of the empty spider web
Watch!
The spider strays in the dark of night
open dauntless eyes and look toward the starlight
shining in the fell chill of the abyss.
Unto fate the years sing of dark days
Grey is the empty heart in the jaws of hell
Oh!
The spider drowns in rushing doom.
The Tale of Artuir mac Aedan; The light of the West.
In The Begining.
Behold my son this our home of Airer Goidell
in the land of Airer Goidell in Alba.
Far from our birthland of Ulaid across the sea,
a sea ruled by Manaanan Mac Lir
We came here following Gabran our clann chief,
in our wooden ships braving seas rough and wild,
Picts were here before us but they didnt flee,
took us in and became our friends indeed,
They were horsepeople of reknown,
gave us the skill without regret or redress,
all this began years gone past.
You my boy may not be a Ri here,
Perhaps a leader of warriors strong and skilled,
for i fear this land will be desired and fought over,
keeping it safe and secure like you would a lover,
Your still a babe who giggles and bubbles blow,
but Artair mac Aedan, you will not be slow,
to serve us well and a legend to grow.
andrew mcintyre. 11/01/2024.