Enjoy a bit of whimsy from a place where Trees may also be people and the Fae count them as friends. Softly, soft the apple tree Whispers down calling me Softly sings me to my rest Then stands her watch at his behest Inward turned, my drifting mind Catches songs that float through time, Yet… Read More Home in Emain Ablach
Even Fairy children get into mischief… perhaps especially fairy children get into mischief. There is a golden apple Hanging from a tree The grove belongs to Manannan The apple belongs to me. The silver leaves sing softly Inviting me to sleep. And dream of things most lofty In the clover deep. I will not listen… Read More My Golden Apple
An older piece of mine, first shared on Facebook when a certain poem and its variants were making the rounds. A friend posted it yesterday (with permission), so here it is for anyone who wants to find it again. America is the Gun That holds its head up high. That does not scorn the fight,… Read More America’s Gun
Something a little epic for your day. Blooms of fire in the night Echo back the wan daylight Cinder sparks and angry coal Kindling now vengeance toll. Pass the fire in the night Watch the days glowing bright Wrath that builds on hollow gains Leaves a shell: all that remains Marching feet to a trumpet… Read More All That Remains
A bit of whimsy and brightness for your day. Pour the wine of memory Drink deep of its joy. Sing within the reverie And all your hopes employ. Catch the tales in trembling light And seal them in a stone. Lest the moment takes to flight And leaves the heart alone. String the stories on… Read More Fairy Feast