In the Land of Ire, the Spires Come Forth

Selene, the beryl is a nod of the hat to you!

From the depths of a well, 

Below air, water, and earth, 

In the forge of gods 

Brighid intones her verse. 

She calls forth the living rock 

In iambic pentameter. 

Spires of nephrite and green beryl 

Rush to do her bidding 

And push to meet the air: 

A field of scintillating emerald. 

A boy wanders aimlessly between the stalks 

Marveling at their glory. 

Inside each, a different shade 

Reflects back his visage 

Encaging another soul. 

Sunlight plays through cleancut edges 

Projecting motion pictures 

Of lives once lived and more to come. 

Soon he is lost. 

Sharp corundum blades slice his feet 

Drawing forth rivulets of crimson 

Seeping down to the roots. 

At first sung of healing, 

Brighid's song takes a turn 

As she weaves her charm. 

The boy could not be harmed. 

Father Daghdah frowns with pity 

and makes the sun stand still, 

While playing his harp to much smaller end. 

The boy lies down and is soon asleep. 

Tuatha by the scores venture 

To see the sight, 

With whispered voices 

Buzzing in the swarm. 

The boy could not be harmed. 

A choir of Bean Si' caoin 

And sing their song of old, 

Serenading the boy with presage; 

An odious melody 

Sends tendrils into his soul, 

Leeching hope and faith 

From his brittle bones 

Leaving him truly alone and unarmed. 

The boy could not be harmed. 

Father Daghdah resumes his mesmerizing strumming, ravvivando. 

Sun and stars answer his call, 

Quickening to dizzying pace, 

And an eon passes in the space of one chorus. 

Macha of the three morrigna 

Rides forth on her majestic horse 

And looks down on the aged boy. 

"Child of man, with strife in your heart, 

You bleed hostility from your veins. 

Come, be my bannerman 

And die endlessly for me." 

He pulls himself unsteadily to his feet 

And shakes his head 

To her withering stare. 

Old man was not alarmed. 

The boy could not be harmed.

Author's Note

A little bit of Celtic mythology woven into this one. Hope you like it.
(ravvivando is a musical term for speeding up) Bean Si' is the Irish celtic term for Banshee
And I took considerable license with these characters to fit my story. There essence, however remains intact.

Reviews

[Alicia Schroeder]

Enchantingly perfomed peice, love the imagery and fabulous creativity.. You've unfolded a beautiful story with great rythm, I'm at a loss for words.. Your writting is amazing.. :)

[Larry Dyson]

Ruby red and does not harm his protected state...Sharp corundum blades slice his feet

Drawing forth rivulets of crimson

Seeping down to the roots.

At first sung of healing,

Brighid's song takes a turn

As she weaves her charm.

The boy could not be harmed.

[Susan14]

this is amazing, great write, keep it up

[A.Lee]

I love this! It flows almost melodically, as if it could almost be sung as a ballad. I love the repetition of that last line. Awesome job. The detail was enchanting, I could tell you put a lot of thought into this. Nice work.

[Poetic Beauty]

The detail is amazing and the flow is done quite well. Your title is what drew me to the piece. I thought it might have a bit of a Celtic tone to it.

[Short.Nerd]

WOw. What an awesome write! Great job

[Jae]

Lovely! Beautiful imagery and i absolutely adored this!

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Absolutely enchanting. Your vocabulary and dreamland imagery are heart melters. Your touch of selenish wonders...mouthwatering. Bravo.

[Cassiopia Summers]

Great write!

[Kaitlyn]

A beautiful poem! I love how you took the essence of Brighid and Daghdah and put them in your writing. I cannot even begin to describe how much I like this or why. It's breathtaking.
~Blessed Be and Merry Meet, Merry Part, Merry Meet Again