Category: Poetry

Death Shall Have No Dominion

31/1/2013

A guided meditation inspired by poetry.

For my personal daily card draw I have my meditation and prayer cards shuffled in with my oracle deck. Today, this card came up. I thought it was interesting and appropriate, with all the thinking and writing I have been doing about the Cailleach and Bride. At the winter solstice, this card felt particularly appropriate, with the short days, and so on. However, it feels equally appropriate now, at Imbolc, with its theme of the natural cycles of death and rebirth in nature and in our lives. Looking at the cycles of nature and of the seasons we can all have certainty of rebirth to come.

I was not aware of Dylan Thomas' poem until I heard it quoted by the great Irish writer and philosopher John Moriarty. The sound of his voice rolling the lines forth, drawing out the "o" in the word "no" ... "They shall have stars at elbow and feet, and death shall have nooooo dominion" was both touching and felt like a sort of wake-up call. A call to hope and faith.

John was a man who had experienced the utter demolition of his faith, but had gone on to explore what can only be described as "the meaning of life" in minute, patient detail. He did this via a process at once deeply personal and yet universal -- through immersing himself in nature to an almost hermetic degree, through exploring the mythology not only of the Irish, but of many other cultures. He emerged from this, toward the end of his life, with a spirituality of great depth and breadth -- not always easy for his readers to nail down, and yet so enriching to behold. I will write more about his work in the future.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

~ Dylan Thomas

Meditation and Prayer cards are available in the webshop at this link

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The Cailleach Becomes Bride

29/1/2013

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At the recent winter solstice, I heard Damh the Bard's wonderful Colloquy of the Oak and Holly Kings for the first time. While some think of the changing of the light or of the seasons as a battle between warmth and cold or dark and light, I love how his poem acknowledges the process of gradual change. At every point in the wheel of the year which we mark as important, I see it more as a day to pause and take note of the changes that are ongoing, or a day to take heart, knowing that they will occur. Winter and spring need not always be seen as enemies. They are also partners, who each have their part in turning the wheel. This poem came to me at Imbolc two years ago. I hope you enjoy it!

The Cailleach Becomes Bride

Bleak.
Cold
and silence.
Iron hard ground
The roiling sea that blasts the cliffs
under a sky of nothingness

The frosted stone
the frozen grass
useless for fodder
under the feet
of tired and haggard sheep

They say I am wise
with the wisdom perhaps
of the migration of reindeer
who scrape the moss
the runes of twigs
the raven who finds her morsel
and the lynx
who waits it out

But I can yet dance
Climb the trees
laugh
and raise a wind
to throw last years leaves
into a dervish circle

I can tease a gentler climate
up the valley
to moisten the loins
bring thoughts of some lustier dame
Only to tumble you
onto the ice
What were we thinking!

I cackle again from the treetops
raising a storm that sends the cattle
lowing and bucking in indignation
from sleet like knives
to the shelter of the dyke
The ponies
lower their heads to the ground
tails plastered to their legs

I will jig and reel down the beach
entangled in seaweed
Enraged
I will blast your windows
and tear your thatch
You must regard me!
I will rip your hat off
slap your face
and make you look at death squarely
We must discuss this
however briefly

Snow
soft and moist
as the blanket of a newborn
Quietly coddling
the first snowdrops
the brightness
of a candle

Like a maiden
with the gentle blandness
of purity
Yet knowing
She dances
under the peaceful
painted snow
the dance
of the quickening seed

The crocus flung up purple
like trying Mother's hat
discarded in the naked dance
of further flurries
and the Cailleach's blood
running in her veins
like the burn in spate

Dancing mad as a hare
across the lawn
like a tumble of kittens
that run
spraddle legged
on their first jaunts
or the wonder of lambs
put to pasture
flinging out a highland leg

Increasing now
in quiet knowing
in the naming of each flower
in its successive season
their buds waiting
in her small womb
where the Cailleach nestles
against her backbone

Dreaming

- Kris Hughes 2011

Cailleach painting by Mairin-Taj Caya Girl with Flowers painting by Belmourida

Poems for the Season of Imbolc

Poems for the Season of Imbolc

8.00

"Some of the most amazing pagan poetry I’ve ever been blessed to encounter." -
- Sharon Paice MacLeod, author of Celtic Cosmology and the Otherworld, and The Divine Feminine in Ancient Europe

At Imbolc, Brigid, the goddess of poetic inspiration, walks the land. These poems were composed over many years, and under the influence of different folkloric ideas – particularly that of the juxtaposition of Brigid and the Cailleach.

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The Lake of Beer

26/1/2013

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I've always loved the "lake of beer" prayer attributed to St. Brigid. It speaks of natural enjoyment of life's bounty, of the joy of good company and great hospitality. It seems to bring the gods and saints to earth in a gentle and wondrous way. So when I thought I'd look it up, once again, I was surprised to find several quite different versions floating around in cyberspace. Not really concerned with "authenticity" and lacking much in the way of citations, I'm not going to comment on which one is the "real" one. They are all real now! What fascinated me was how as I compared them, some lines could easily be different translations of the same original, but then other lines would appear in only one version. For me, they seem to have more depth and impact taken as a group. One seeming to balance what another lacks. So here they are, and if I have stepped on anyone's copyright toes, please let me know, and we'll fix that.

St. Brigid is so mixed up with the goddess Brigid that trying to separate them is a bit like trying to separate conjoined twins. I'm not going to attempt surgery here. Brigid, we are taught, is associated with home and hearth, domestic agriculture - especially cattle and lambs, fire, smithing (and by association with all creativity), springtime and the turning of the seasons, and much more.

This first version is from Lady Gregory the Irish writer and folklorist. I don't know her source, or how much she may have embellished it. I will give the others after it, without comment, because I think it's nicer to read them without that interruption from me. Enjoy!

I would wish a great lake of ale for the King of Kings;
I would wish the family of heaven to be drinking it throughout life and time.
I would wish the men of Heaven in my own house;
I would wish vessels of peace to be given to them.
I would wish joy to be in their drinking;
I would wish Jesu to be here among them.
I would wish the three Marys of great name;
I would wish the people of heaven from every side.
I would wish to be a rent-payer to the Prince;
The way if I was in trouble He would give me a good blessing.

artist: Br. Mickey McGrath, OSFS

I would like the angels of Heaven to be among us.
I would like an abundance of peace.
I would like full vessels of charity.
I would like rich treasures of mercy.
I would like cheerfulness to preside over all.
I would like Jesus to be present.
I would like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.
I would like the friends of Heaven to be gathered around us from all parts.
I would like myself to be a rent payer to the Lord;
That should I suffer distress, that he would bestow a good blessing upon me.
I would like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
I would like to be watching Heaven's family drinking it through all eternity.

I'd like to give a lake of beer to God.
I'd love the Heavenly
Host to be tippling there
For all eternity.

I'd love the men of Heaven to live with me,
To dance and sing.
If they wanted, I'd put at their disposal
Vats of suffering.

White cups of love I''d give them,
With a heart and a half;
Sweet pitchers of mercy I'd offer
To every man.

I'd make Heaven a cheerful spot,
Because the happy heart is true.
I'd make the men contented for their own sake
I'd like Jesus to love me too.

I'd like the people of heaven to gather
From all the parishes around,
I'd give a special welcome to the women,
The three Marys of great renown.

I'd sit with the men, the women of God
There by the lake of beer
We'd be drinking good health forever
And every drop would be a prayer.

artist: Patrick Joseph Tuohy (1894 – 1930)

I should like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.
I should like the angels of Heaven to be drinking it through time eternal.
I should like excellent meats of belief and pure piety.
I should like the men of Heaven at my house.
I should like barrels of peace at their disposal.
I should like for them cellars of mercy.
I should like cheerfulness to be their drinking.
I should like Jesus to be there among them.
I should like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.
I should like the people of Heaven, the poor, to be gathered around from all parts.

Poems for the Season of Imbolc

Poems for the Season of Imbolc

Imbolc always inspires me, and over the years I've written a number of poems about Brigid and the Cailleach at this time of year. This little volume features four of my favourites.

Size 8.5" x 5.5"

16 pages

Please see product page for more information.

8.00

At Imbolc, Brigid, the goddess of poetic inspiration walks the land.
These poems were composed over many years, and under the influence of different folkloric ideas – particularly that of the juxtaposition of Brigid and the Cailleach.
"These poems masterfully weave together authentic lore with deeply spiritual imagery that would be perfect for an Imbolc ritual."
- Sharon Paice MacLeod, author of Celtic Cosmology and the Otherworld, and The Divine Feminine in Ancient Europe

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Visions in meditation part 2 - Manannán

22/1/2013

1 Comment

The sea is ever-changing.

Introduction
This is the second of three visions I had in meditation. To read more about how this came to be, you can read the introduction to part 1. While I don't really see this as poetry, it just flowed in this format.

I sit in my room
The room is framed with magic
The window set about
With shells, with starfish
Through it I see the sea
Sitting beside it, I hear the sea
But the sea is distant
A thousand miles or more

"Come out to play!"
Manannán is calling me
"Come out to play!"
I know He is the trickster

"No trick," he says
"There is a door.
Go into the next room and see."
And there is a door
I open it to solid water
Which does not spill
Through the open doorway

I enter the water and swim
I know what it is to be a selkie
The water perfectly cool
I swim
I know the speed of a dolphin
And Manannán rides on my back

Not the stately Storm King
Of beard and robes
He is something other
Suggestion of beard
Green hide
Webbed feet
He is something ancient
Entirely other

And I see
He rides the dolphins
And the great fishes
He loves this!
And the smaller fish
His "little lambs"

And I understand
That this
This is why He is God of the Sea
Because in this life
This underwater life
Where He knows
The pleasure of speed
The pleasure of travel
He will protect
His fast steeds
His little lambs

artist: Helen Rich

"This," He tells me
"Is part of you
For your land
Was once under the sea
Now you mourn
Salt without water
The bleached bones"

And I see
When He rises from the water
He becomes that robed
And bearded Father
On His sacred island
He is thus

And now He shows me
How His waters will rise
And the earth will be whole
And the land will recede
And the people of the land
Will turn on one another
And thus reduce their numbers
And the earth will be whole
But never the same
For the sea is ever-changing

artist: Osnat Tzadok

Out of this vision , in my "rational" mind I think more and more how foolish we are, how inflated in our sense of our abilities to think that we can "protect" Gaia from our kind. And if we're honest, we don't do it for Her, we are just trying to preserve our real estate, our playground, things we feel sentimental about, our way of life.

There is not one thing we have made which did not come from the earth - the concrete and glass, the rusting metal. We ripped it all from her breast, and when we push too far, a great change will come. Our plastic and trash and destruction will somehow be re-shaped as nothing more than strange deposits of minerals and organic material, and what is left of our race, if anything - will we be as the Fomorians or as the Tuatha Dé Danann? Or maybe Manannán's children this time?

As I typed this from my handwritten notes just now, I also remembered that Manannán is the trickster, killing and re-animating the men of the fortress to make a point, as if it's nothing.

Continue to part 3...

Here are some tales of Manannán in His role as trickster-teacher.

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I am dead, yet I live.

12/1/2013

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Elder (sambucus nigra) is one of my favourite trees/herbs. It's also a card in my oracle deck.
I'll let it speak for itself!

Elder
Incredible usefulness. Boundless potential for growth. Offering solace to many.

Unco weather hae we been through:
The mune glowered, and the wind blew,
And the rain it rained on him and me,
And bour-tree blossom is fair to see!

There was nae voice of beast ae man,
But the tree soughed and the burn ran,
And we heard the ae voice of the sea:
Bour-tree blossom is fair to see!

~ Robert Louis Stevenson
"The Bour-Tree Den"

I am the bour tree. I stand on the hillside awaiting spring. I am dead, yet I live. I wait. I am patient. Lashed by rain, shaken by wind, blanketed with snow and riven by frost I wait. As the season softens to mud and warmth I feel my leaf buds growing, soon they begin to unfurl and I can once more drink the sunlight and feel the moist air tickling and teasing them.

In the heat of early summer my flowers open, and I am beautiful. I am decked as a bride and loved and adored by all. The breezes jostle my heavy branches, laden with nectar and pollen, I am a friend to all who buzz and flutter and caress me. Birds have their nests within the world of my branches, and insects also call me home. My fragrance attracts many visitors who are intoxicated by my bounty. I have much to give! Plenty to spare! My blossoms heal the sick and strengthen the blood and wind of the healthy. Take all you need.

Slowly, the petals drop, giving way to little green nodules. In time they increase and grow red, then purple and almost black. The weight of my fruit bows me and cracks at my branches, but I stand firm. The ground beneath my boughs is littered with shed branches and shoots which fell in such battles past - but I live on! Children may make toys from such trifles. Now the birds are thick in my branches, eating their fill, and sharing with some who walk on four legs, and also on two. I am transformed into sweet drinks and food for winter by those ingenious ones.

Now my leaves begin to dry and change colour. They lose their sensitivity and begin to fall to the ground. At my feet, the earth is changing. The soil beings to breath more and more slowly. I long for rest, for clean coldness. The winds come and rip the death rags from me. The sap recedes. I am become bones. Blackened bones. I am dead, yet I live. I wait.

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Death Shall Have No Dominion

A guided meditation inspired by poetry.

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

The Cailleach Becomes Bride

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Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

The Lake of Beer

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!
Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

Visions in meditation part 2 - Manannán

The sea is ever-changing.

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

I am dead, yet I live.

Elder (sambucus nigra) is one of my favourite trees/herbs. It's also a card in my oracle deck.
I'll let it speak for itself!

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

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Death Shall Have No Dominion

A guided meditation inspired by poetry.

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

The Cailleach Becomes Bride

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details! Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

The Lake of Beer

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details! Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

Visions in meditation part 2 - Manannán

The sea is ever-changing.

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

I am dead, yet I live.

Elder (sambucus nigra) is one of my favourite trees/herbs. It's also a card in my oracle deck. I'll let it speak for itself!

Subscribe to my newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!

Archives

Categories

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!
Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter and never miss a blog post. In return, I promise to keep newsletters short and limit them to one per month, and of course, never to share your details!
Subscribers also get access to special offers in the shop.

Elder (sambucus nigra) is one of my favourite trees/herbs. It's also a card in my oracle deck.
I'll let it speak for itself!