In a glen where the mushrooms glow soft blue,
Lived a critter who loved to change his view.
A pooka by name, with a golden eye,
He’d start as a hare, and then—why not?—fly!
Poof! went the tail as it turned to a feather,
Changing his suit to suit the weather.
“Too sunny for fur!” he chirped with a grin,
And turned to a dolphin to jump right in—
Wait, that was a pond, just a small muddy puddle,
So he turned into a frog on a sunny-day muddle.
He popped out of the mud as a bright orange fox,
Then turned to a moss-covered, sleeping grey rock.
He tickled the badger, he startled the deer,
Whispering jokes in their unsuspecting ear.
Then off he went dancing, a shaggy old hound,
Before shifting back to his own silly sound.
With a mischievous giggle and a spark in his eye,
He’ll be something new when the moon hits the sky.
From shadowed glens, where legends sleep,
Three figures rise, secrets to keep.
The Morrigan, a raven's wing,
Drawn to the clash, the death-song sang.
Of war, of fate, a chilling hand,
To claim the fallen, rule the land.
She shifts and weaves, a queen of might,
Her sovereignty in the darkest night.
The Banshee wails, a mournful cry,
A prophecy beneath the sky.
For family's blood, a thread undone,
Her keening echoes, day is done.
A spirit bound to mortal ties,
Her sorrow paints the weeping skies.
The Pooka runs, a shifting shade,
A trickster's jest, a game is played.
A horse of ebony, swift and bold,
He leads astray, tales to be told.
A playful spirit, wild and free,
He dances on the edge of glee.
From ancient roots, their power springs,
The Morrigan, the Banshee, Pooka brings,
A touch of magic, old and deep,
Where shadows stir and secrets sleep.
Guardians of lore, through misty air,
Whispers of Ireland.
"Rabbits"
down the rabbit hole
we go
looking
for what, we are yet
to find and fully know
love leads us through
we look back for a little while
we observe shadow’s sad reflections
calling out to us
in the setting sun
we turn away, face forward,
we've just begun
we are at the intersection
and the Pooka
whispers -
"there’s no place like home"
"there's no place like home"
"there's no place like home"
time pulls us in, it runs
like a rabbit, fast
that ridiculous rabbit runs
breeds
urgency
a trite necessity
we’ve now opened emerald gates
our journey rumbles us
into the bejewelled jungle
familiars give us trouble
we fall in love fast
we bleed and stumble
we get up again
along the road
we grow,
we try for a while
to be sensible,
we try to be humble
humour winks,
and warns
invisible
rabbits
are trouble
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Alice"/ Gaga
https://youtu.be/q7v9roA5Ogw
"911/Gaga"
https://youtu.be/-oI4_shsYnE
LYRICS, "911", Gaga
https://genius.com/Lady-gaga-911-lyrics
We hid and were silent. Okay, wait for it, she said.
I was not hopeful. Thought she was crazy in her head.
Being quiet was not easy as we were only ten or so.
Encouraging October moon gave us a sweet yellow glow.
Chick a chick a chooka Chooka Chooka Shake.
Wander doodle bug balm. Crazy night at Lake.
Brick a brick a brooka Brooka Brooka Thee
Pick a pick a pooka. Come and dance with me.
With horror I realized that a long red bony hand had me.
He drew me out of the bushes and we began to dance beautifully.
We whirled and twirled. He laughed with unbelievable glee.
My friend was clapping and whistling from her hiding point, a tree.
Chick a chick a chooka, the red skeleton said with care.
He tossed me up and I flew past an owl with a big stare.
Brick a brick a brooka, the red skeleton said as I crashed.
Come pick a pick a pooka. You’ll find another bashed.
I had never danced with a skeleton, but frankly, it was fun.
We danced into the night, and he began to call me “hon”.
I politely extracted myself when he tried to get a kiss.
I am sorry, I told him, but I am only ten, a little miss.
“Missed Door”
He was well groomed
strutting nonchalantly
through the
Missed Door
like Morrison
The He Road
raised her curb
Strange I’ve seen that face before
De je vu a reckless mating call
Grace
rode
electric the
Rider's Storm
he was just a
big old pussycat
catnipped
she stroked his
soft underbelly fur
She gave him a dish of crows,
he spat out all the feathers black
smiled his big ol’ cat grin
wrapped himself around her lithe long legs
and licked her salty back again
again
then gave the sparrows
a good ol’ pigeon stir
what's a murder amongst friends
“More milk?” he purred
implored
on the other side of
Missed Door
The Pooka
smiled some more
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVTAB3_WZtY
“Well,” said Adam, as Poirot went out. “First girls’ knees, and now draughtsmanship! What next, I wonder!” Agatha Christie, Cat Among the Pigeons
“No sign, so far, of anything sinister—but I live in hope.” Agatha Christie, Cat Among the Pigeons
The stump in my garden
By light of the moon,
Is upright and sturdy
Played like a bassoon
A possum's performing
"Song of the Pooka"
It is such a beautiful tune.
And that stump is a chimney,
It doubles as a hookah,
Delighting a baked raccoon.
Smoke rings in smoke rings
Encircle my thumb
While OOOMP go the bass notes,
Gah-wooo, Gah-wum.
"The Stump" is selected from Pets Given in Evidence of Old English Witchcraft and Other Bewitched Beings (Minneapolis: Sidecar Preservation Society, 2016).
(to be read out loud)
I'll eat the nibble naggle nooky nickel
nipple nappy mum mum mum
I'll chew your gooble gobble giggle gaggle
gimpy grampa's gum gum gum.
I'll call the wimpy wappy wiggle waggle
wacky wobble wum wum wum
I'll drink the wiggin' wimple whoopy whacker
wookie worker's rum rum rum.
Woo wow wee wah
Geegaw mee mah
Hee haw hoo har hey hey hey.
Mao moo mud muck
Wigwam poobah
Mad mook mick mack yay yay yay.
I'll have a murky muddle maple maggot
monkey marbles chum chum chum
I raised a ticky tacky tinky tonka
tailor's tiny thumb thumb thumb.
I'm really punky pickled pooka puckers
pitter patter dumb dumb dumb
I hear my diggle daggle doggy dingle
diddle daddled hum hum hum.
Looked at the obituaries
saw that I was dead
Thought I felt tired
so I went back to bed
Try to call my number
but it was disconnected
Maybe it is for the best
now I won't be suspected
Going to the drive through
my order did not go far
Apparently for the drive through
you need to be in a car
Told my pooka friend Larry
I just couldn't bear it
Larry smiled and reply
I like orange carrots
I daydream nightmares
while I'm wide awake
I collect broken snow globes
cause I don't like to shake
Lava Lamps bewitch me
slow globs colorful glows
Chaos in a bottle
that never overflows
Mye Guardian
Starry knighted nightingale
Across Orion's eyes
I see the falling star a yonder bright
lit bright moon, before me' aye
Afar on earth with Cricky bound
mi Pooka guard before me'
I take a light of image snap
It dances hap, before me'
Ere it stood, eidolon par
Eerie don, ego, do atem me’
owe me a rose, amore rue,
es here etu, defend me'
The moon is full and white, and chill, this night,
it cascades past my open window sill,
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.
The armoire's shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed.
as a nightmare gallops through my open door,
a Pooka* black as coal with eyes which bled.
Its jaw agape red gore froths from his maw,
and it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat to bird-like caw,
it dips for me to mount, as I am led.
Upon a demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to end this foul glamour.
6/7/13
*The pooka is a primarily a creature of Irish folklore. Considered to be both bringers of good and bad fortune. The creatures were said to be shape changers which could take the appearance of black horses.
On All Hallows Eve, darkness balks
The fields are full of crisp cornstalks.
The boyo's have egged the paper birch
and left their lassies alone at church.
A red moon lights a flight of hawks,
a murder of crows, tree high squawks.
Apples are left for ghosts who walk
and the Banshee risen from her perch
On All Hallow's eve.
So wrap your neck in a cross gold
beware the Pooka, he's foretold,
carry a Jack-o-lantern..lit
and holy water in your kit
bring a pretty lass to console
On All Hallow's Eve.
*Banshee a female spirit in Irish Lore who warns of impending death
**Pooka a shape changing goblin who oft appears as aheadless horse.
The moon is full and white, and chill, this night,
it cascades past my open window sill,
and all the color fades to dark from light,
a monochrome of gray which can't be stilled.
The armoire's oblong shadow strays across the floor.
I watch it from within my canopy bed.
A nightmare gallops through an open door,
a Pooka black as coal with eyes that bled.
Its jaw agape and gore froths from his maw,
as it slowly paws the cover from my bed,
a scream freezes in my throat, a bird-like caw,
he dips down for me to mount, and I am led.
Upon this demon spawn, I scour the moor
'til dawn descends to belay this foul glamour.
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