upon the Rase a troublesome crone
who meddled in the Rasen folk
for she a witch!
a witch! their slant and well
she laid upon a cow a cursied blight
a cursied spell
and lo would not this neighbour’s cow
go to the milking parlour so
this neighbour’s daughter fraught and fair
to seek a wise man, she that hour
left in haste to hear of words
and met with him though quite by chance
for he appeared to her when needed
invited in somewhat expected
and knew did he of her unrest
as heating in the fireplace a red hot poker
readying
and stoked, enflamed the fire roared
and from by the Rase the witch was heard
to scream and cry
you see now in her weakened state
another troubled Rasener
took heed upon the lowered crone
and struck her hand with a blade had he
and brought to her all of her eves
that drew the blood of taintedness
and scream once more
then again made three
no more trouble will she cause
said the wiseman confidently
and the witch skulked away
her powers lost
made free were then the Rasen folk
and the cow went in to give them milk
O Vinegar Tom
your belly is long
your head is of ox
your body is dog
you live with a witch
do Devilish bids
you dance to her song
O Vinegar Tom
...Since that day there has been a cross
perched high atop the bluff,
and when the town grew up they thought
they should show him their love.
That’s how we became Sintertown,
their way to show respect,
when the first cross rotted away
the quickly built the next.
The one you see now was installed
back in nineteen-thirty,
and it’s still standing proudly since
they made it of concrete.
It may be trendy in our times
to mock the settlers brave,
to feel bad for the Indians,
and yes, mistakes were made.
Some might not even like this tale,
but we still tell it yet,
since even now I can’t recall
a more heroic death.
When little kids ask for stories
Regale them of our lore and its glories.
Listening with rapt notice
Tales of champions and menaces.
One and all exclaim with awe
Hearing about our Gods.
They don't die
Live within us and fly.
Burn like a phoenix
Survive with their tactics.
Look beyond the veil
When the fiercest quail.
Never lose their light
Even in the darkest of nights.
With a love so perfect
They attack and protect.
For the ones they care
Their souls laid bare.
Honor their word with pride
Till their last glide.
So hush, my child
Heed the noble and wild.
As all princes and peasants
knelt before our legends.
Tír na nÓg - A Tragic Epic Saga
ye hear, of a leprechaun and a unicorn who met in a field’s corner
a he and she, she killed by a tree, when it fell he couldn’t warn her
** In Spirit with Trees **
I feel sad, feeling a kind of tragedy
When I see that a storm
has broken…
has felled trees.
Grass everywhere green, rises.
Flowers splendidly gracing…And
Blessed crops progress us all… But,
The fig, olive, walnut, willow, ash, and magnolia —
The palm, maple, oak, redwood, and evergreen —
The any and every kind of tree affect me,
As I breathe and dearly perceive.
I must confide, my curiosity
about trees has deepened
Since decades ago, when I read
some Japanese folklore
Tells of the believing their ancestors
Could remain here becoming spirits in trees.
That idea — plus the knowledge about how eons of trees
evolved since their days amidst the dinosaurs —
Has
…increased my awe of them, as I see
growth and strength for purposes, and to possibly
inspire as towering sillouhettes against the sky…
Beautifully awakening wonder, with a mysterious
Sensing
Trees may stand waiting communicate.
———————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 7/6/23
Thanks be to God—-
Good Goddess Bona Dea
We celebrate Your rites
Female only festivals.
All men are out of sight.
You safeguard our fertility
As we worship at your feet
With flowers, wine and vine leaves
And a serpent, when we meet.
So Bona Dea praise you.
Give us fruitfulness in birth.
Empower us to be feminine
And champion our worth
Don't eat the bear
and the bear won't eat you
Don't stomp on flowers
Don't spit on the dew
If you are a bad person
your life will worsen
But if you are good
then there's no need for cursin'
Yoi yoi la la la la yoi yoi la.
Hansel and Gretel
Bread crumbs lead the way outside
Witch in the forest
Today is an American folk event
Unraveled by traditions and etiquette
Vixens ask men on a date
Women hoping to find a mate
Sadie Hawkins Day we celebrate
Legend of goat man of pop lick trestle
prominent in the stories of mountain folk
blue grass anomaly seen by a few
chilling bluegrass spotters who become hypnotized
some local hillbillies affected jump off the trestle
landing a hundred feet below on sharp gravel
terrifying to passengers of oncoming train
he uses voice mimicry to lure many to their deaths
common story in floyd, Kentucky
known by few newcomers or interlopers
shared by old timers in hushed whispers
waitress listens and rolls her eyes at their tale
Fusion is also a genre in folklore.
I am a perfectionist. You may address me there.
Father in bad habits, brothers in curtain in carts
Outside chores are somewhere, in outside doors.
And I will tell you
I will end you in here and now.
Hundred times more
Before your MS-DOS "Chronoskimmer" finds me in Gloria Anzaldúa
ever again.
With one last gamble,
I declare victory over myself,
I listened to every command and sincerely said oh well,
My word choice is very unfancy,
But by declaration the devils get antsy,
They say don't blow my nose in a car,
That memory sticks to it,
Be remembered afar if you get used to it,
They say don't transmit outside of shelter,
A home was made for transit without death sir,
That's why it's traditionally wood,
Pagans said trees grant life and in death present should,
It was hope that dead trees may help imaginations breathe,
A life granted is not truly quite sain,
Until they can embrace all that is thy name
They said no one can reach the end of the game,
It was said that the dragon wasn't even given by a name,
The tale goes far but never lasts long,
The same people who decided to play the game all wrong,
The dragons trust means you gave up on your people,
Just like any other mammal to be considered as an equal,
The story goes that the riders like a ghost,
Not one of us as the ways become the host,
Being one with the dragon is when it's all lost,
Being forgotten trusting humans is when defeat has a cost,
Standing alone show commitment to the form of life,
And if a soul as a human isn't just rights the dragon will say,
Freedom,
Freedom rider we shall rise to the heights.
[paraphrase of a Svan folk song]
Tamar's mother said, "Tamar,
You were born fully grown.
Child, I saw you in a dream
I looked into the starlit sky and saw
That you were the village
And you were the world."
Related Poems