A great forest grows dark and green,
Where little birds twitter amid the leaves,
Reynard the red coated one keen eye searching,
For squirrels leaping among branches tall,
Making sure the youngsters don’t fall,
A capercaillie scream rents the air,
Sounding like ban-sidhe in the air.
Trees creak and rattle in ancient tree talk,
Close together they whisper and plot,
Sending astray the unwary and proud,
Those who stravaig far from the path.
Deep in the depths a slow rising hill,
Crowned with a wall of log and thorn,
With a ditch to deter those who do ill,
A gate stands with warriors each side,
Armed with sword,shield and dirks sharp and slim,
Protecting those who dwell within.
Built long before by the ancestors long gone,
Their spirit lingering in every log,
Singing their song of “Torr na Craoibhe”, as it was once named,
In the tongue of ancients forever told.
Their song drifts over the trees,
Heard by creatures large and small,
For those who stop to listen and hear,
The wisdom within to teach and preserve,
The old ways of nature and ancient forest,
Helping all to live in joyous unity,
Listen and hear what they say.
© Andrew Provan McIntyre 28.4.2016.
Categories:
sidhe, fantasy, people, remember,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Fairy Folk
Ignoring those with little wings,
will leave a curse that tightly clings.
For, hidden in Manannan's cloak,
are the Island's fairy folk.
So say 'hello' while on their land,
or be victim to their meddling hands.
A fairy known for her vampire traits,
the Leanan Sidhe patiently waits.
With tales and promises of success,
she lures in those who transgress.
As their love for her takes control,
she destroys their gullible soul.
A price that many men would pay,
for her to drain their heart away.
So be aware of those with little wings,
as they are capable of unnatural things.
For, hidden in Manannan's cloak,
are the Island's fairy folk.
Categories:
sidhe, myth,
Form: Rhyme
Ravens chew on twigs while deep in thought,
Larks have three dots on their tongue,
Badgers are the keepers of the sacred stories,
Blackbird is the bird of both the gateway and forge.
Cernunnos is lord of the Underworld and wild animals,
Follow the white hind into the mystical forest.
As Tuan had lived as a stag, an eagle, and salmon,
Where the Tuatha de Danaan were the faery gods,
Living on Emerald Isle as the Sidhe, (shee)
Twenty trees are the number of the secreted Ogham,
And the wrens nest is the Druid's nest.
We priests must walk in both worlds,
In the world of form, and of force.
Awen to all... /|\
Categories:
sidhe, inspirational, mystery, myth,
Form: Free verse
Where regal forts lie dormant now,
Once Maedbh beheld the Sacred Cow,
At Cruachan of the fifty mounds,
From Uaigh na gCat came Faery sounds,
A vision, behold, Róisín Dubh,
Symphony of my stolen love,
Never before a sight so fair,
Like Adams ale flowed burning hair,
'Come now young seeker, take my hand,
And come with me to Faery land'
And then she hummed her Faery tune,
Invoking ages of the moon,
'For who but you may understand,
The grieving whispers of this land?'
Blessed am I, behold this sight,
The Sídhe summon me tonight,
'And who but you may come to know,
The seraphic language of the crow?'
'Come now young seeker, from the cold,
And know not sickness, death nor old'
Then louder grew her Faery tune,
And slowly I began to swoon,
'You once were children of the Sun,
Where heroes dwelt there now are none'
'Deepest silence, they must endure,
But not for you whose soul is pure'
'The time will be upon us soon,
To sing the chorus of the moon'
At Cruachan of the fifty mounds,
From Uaigh na gCat came Faery sounds,
Boldly now I took her hand,
And off we went to Faery land
Categories:
sidhe, places, visionarymay, me,
Form: Epic
My heart has sought your mystery
guardian dryad, ivy tressed tree,
other worldly mound and ley;
long I’ve searched the fair Sidhe.
Here, found I the ancient long bone,
the knurled hawthorn, the Druid’s home.
Sheltered, shrouded, and overgrown
within St. Cyril’s grave well come.
At last, at last my longings free,
and I can dwell a time with thee
A time, past time, with all the wee
Before the banshee calls to me.
Categories:
sidhe, adventure
Form: Quatrain
Oh, God and Goddess are all around us.
from place to place unguided,
they’ve found us.
Land of limpid eyes and skies,
where mystery abounds.
‘Mongst lisping lips, oft heard
Gaelic limericks sound.
While gale gusted winds whip wave
dashed waters to mist;
atop the high cliffs of Moher
the Fairie found us.
Categories:
sidhe, imagination
Form: Free verse