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
Have a mystery dwarf. I hope you enjoy him. Old the door in frozen hall No one comes and no one calls. No voices sing ’neath vaulting stone And mem’ry echoes alone, alone. Movement stirs in sullen air And hope awakes ’midst old despair. The soul that slept on lonely bier Draws a breath and… Read More Waking Echoes
A river rambles, will you follow to hear what he says? Below the stone the water goes Slow and low where no light shows. Far away o’er mount and vale Where longing voices loudly wail. Through canyons carved in ancient stone And willow boughs that weep alone, The steady flow carves courses deep And sings… Read More Tale Bearer
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
