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

[ice]

Just getting around to read this, sorry I waited so long..

Wonderful poem/story..love gaelic myths, how their
Gods coordinate/align themselves with mortal conditions,
how you wove your own story into the fabric of the myth.

Daghdha has beaten his club on the earth once more,
though this time the crop, profit is a fine piece of literature,
that has risen from the earth instead of potatoes or wheat..

Thourghly enjoyed...

ice

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a great mythological story. The tale takes you on a journey into a world that is not known. The characters in this poem jump off the page and your are able to feel the emotions in this tale. You have done an amazing job spinning an intricate story in this poem. the flow is smooth as ice.

[Ice QueenJen]

I thought you did a great job creating a scene out of these Celtic myths. Although I had a hard time reading some of the words, it was still well executed.

[Marie Harrison]

I'm in awe...well done! Bravo!

[Art Sun]

nicely writtem poetry...

[nighttimesnoozer]

wow this is really nice man good job u have skills

[Bard Constantine]

Nice blending of mythology... makes for a great read. Nice job with this one...

i've got a dreamy spot for celtic myths and celtic songs. a wonderful tale! Great job!

[Loner]

Wowwwwww. what beautiful thoughts i loved it from the beginning till the end.

[Goodbye]

Way, way cool - your characters so richly textured, mythical, mysterious. Excellent, David! I always love how you have so many possible overtones and undertones to your work.