Crann Bethadh

This is a elegiac poem I wrote that incorporates the Celtic tree of life with some basic Kabbalistic principles from when I had a light interest in that.... er... Philosophy? :? ... Anyways.. Enjoy!

P.S. I apologize if my punctuation isn't "all there".



Crann Bethadh

I lie within the thorned branches,
Arms as honeylocust, entice, beguile me
Infuse upon me, alluring pretense.
A veil of heaven doth the monkey dawn,
Inviting me to embrace the crown of shame,
Embrace that which leads me the farthest
Away to where I no naught but wrong.
I saw myself searching the boughs,
To find the fruit of eternal salvation,
To reach I stretch, I tear the flesh
Ev'ry move moved through suf'ring
As false hopes lead to false prize,
The apple ever after rotting.
What hope I find is long forgotten
Ev'ry move lost in sorrow,
To surrender: to die,
To continue on: to drag the cross upon the shoulder,
Both paths a soul torn asunder.
Long forgotten now is what once was
Before a life of plow and furrow.
Once light, all light, in all was one.
What light, what sound, the sound inert
and now from knowing what once I had,
I know within myself a pain,
A yearning of what once was,
A cast that has left in it's image a mold
A mold that layeth now nestled in bramble.
But does not each mold have within itself a hollow?
A hollow to be filled?
Then accept the light! adhere to it's cast,
A shape I am to reflect its glory!
Alas. Know not I of but one external fissure,
A breach with which to allow floodgates acquiescence.
A look within may find a spark,
Within as wrought with sick as out,
Within the heart, one piece, a puzzle.
And if I do I see the roots,
A tree which grows underneath;
A mirror image reflected through negative;
Opposite, yet as one,
So much more; so far apart,
It insinuates to suit the needs of those above
By gathering all its might towards reclaim
Of one who lives in searing pain,
Of one incurred seven years and counting.

Nice use of English. Hope to see more. :)

:) thanks! here's a short one I wrote:

I Miss Her

Hah! To sleep? How could one sleep with thoughts so enthralled.
I wait.
The comfort comes; the comfort goes.
All serve to distract but I am rapt!
My attention on within. What is that which whirls?
I feel it move, a move inside, a stirring.
An ache in peace, tranquil whirlpool lain stagnant,
A vice which upon tight'ning abates, then caught in suspension.
A gum, one end stretched far across a sea.
An empty sea.
I miss her.

Nice job :) I like the second one particularly more but the other is swell as well!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Spenner

Nice job :) I like the second one particularly more but the other is swell as well!

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Ya, the second one is something everyone can relate to. Funny thing is, I didn't even mean for it to be a poem. I just felt compelled to write down exactly how I felt at that moment.

Thanks :)

I've decided to use this thread to post any stuff I write. I have some sayings I've made. So here they are:

"Considering that life can not exist without death, death can not exist without life and life and death are one; all there is left to do, is to dance." (Derived from a video by Alan Watts I watched. But in my own wording.)

"Life to some is a search with nothing to find but searching itself. Imagine what would happen if they found out there was nothing to search for but what they've already found."

"Those who've worn the blindfold their whole life begin to believe that the darkness is the only truth."

"If for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction then growth happens from within: the farther within yourself that you delve; the farther out you will grow."

"What we see with our eyes can never be as true as what we see through that one point in our hearts."

"Learn from the past, Live in the present, Plan for the future."

Ode to the heart, mind, soul
May/27/2009

Oh to the heart, mind, soul thy depth deepest.
I dare to delve, into thine thoughts so pure,
So pure but wrought throughout with a tempest,
A tempest, a flow, a flow so obscure
But I strive to see through the whirl and swirl
I see what I can, I know I cannot
Cannot truly know what is not quite known
Not known in a moment, nor in a twirl;
Off the tips of mind, only half wrought.
Known from the start; philosophy your own.

Oh to the quarrel. Not with my own mind,
Nor with my desires, my emotion.
Nor with that of me that is me and binds.
A quarrel with that not my devotion,
A quarrel with those who seek, take and squash.
Squash what is mine, yours, sleeping within us.
Squash out the unique to keep us in line.
Keep us in darkness, kept under the posh.
Our thoughts to them are as a worthless puss:
We as the acolytes, them as divine.

Oh to the Way that mine own is rebel
Oh to what is me that escapes this grasp
I will not yield to be every pebble.
Oh to the me that will fight to last gasp
Oh to the diamonds inside my gray shell.
It is what is dearest, it isn’t quelled.
To think all obey, to think all a hasped tight
Hah! Truly they believe that we all quell.
Or maybe they seek those who have rebelled?
Oh to the heart, mind, soul their greatest blight.

Rhyme scheme may have fallen apart, but I like it that way. This time I didn't dare wrestle with my worst enemy... Punctuation.

In the middle of may a young sheepherder lay
On the outskirts of town amongst bundles of hay
He had carried his sheep into pasture most green
And now lay in the shade and looked over the scene
Of the puffs of white cotton that gambled about
And then nibbled on grasses till he heard the shout

Of the engine of Wealthies come roar into town
And he watched as the scream of the wagon did drown
The tweets and the bleats of the birds and the sheeps
And he saw that the dust from this thing came in heaps
And it billowed in billows as black as the night
And settled on pathways and flowers so bright
As the monster took rest and its load followed spoor
To go fetch them a drink in the depths of a well

The poor shepherd recalled him a tale he would tell
To his folks and his blokes about when the same men
That had drove this same wagon around this same bend
Went and Took it to fancy to pick on the poor
And did shove this poor shepherd into the deep nest
Of the very same well that they now took their rest
And then poor Mr. shepherd did struggle about
And did clamber and scramble 'mongst laughs of this lout
And then scurried up rope and then heaved over edge
the embarrassment full as he ran through a hedge

And remembering this the poor sheepherder thought
To himself that he didn't quite like them a lot
So as quick as a sparrow he took his revenge
He stood up and he ran t'wards the wealthiest man
And he grabbed from a shop the most sturdiest pan
With the grace of a bull and finesse of a crock
Took the pan to the man and struck down with a plock
To the shepherd's delight the great wealth of this guy
Sent him down to his death as a watery pie

Struggling through the currents in the depths of the ocean a fine jelly fish swam. It was dark, cold and coloured dark green and the jellyfish knew that he must reach the surface soon. "It's one o'clock!" yelled the hammerhead shark "It's one o'clock! Almost time for my feeding!" and the jellyfish knew as all jellyfish knew that he must reach the surface before evening. So the jelly swam up through the sea and struggled to fight the currents. He made a rhythm as he swam, a sort of dance or song, with each pulse he made to propel himself through the water. Blup. Blup. Blup. Blup.

"The clock struck two! The clock struck two!" yells the shark with glee. The colours change from dark green to red as the jelly swims through the sea. The jellyfish sees the surface now, he sees the light of the morning sun play across the waters above. He wonders what it will look like when he finally reaches the top. Not far to go now.

"The clock strikes three! Its three o'clock!" exclaims the hungry shark. And as the jellyfish reaches the surface of the water the colour change to white.
Into the sky the jelly swims, into the sky with the perseverance of Parvati.

"The clock strikes four! Its four at last!" Yells the shark as he begins eating. The sky is now light green as the jellyfish swims over the ocean and through the sky to find his place under the mountains.

The vocabulary you use makes me think you have some practice at this. It is all very appropriate and fitting. When most people try to sound eloquent, it comes off closer to verbosity, which you've managed to avoid.

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Originally Posted by Xaqaria

The vocabulary you use makes me think you have some practice at this. It is all very appropriate and fitting. When most people try to sound eloquent, it comes off closer to verbosity, which you've managed to avoid.

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Thank you, I try. But I actually don't have a lot of practice with this stuff, beyond English class which I love. Pretty sure it comes from all the crazy books I read.

ya i love those quotes/sayings I remember seeing most of them on your FB.

The Morrow rise, and sun doth seek to be.

My Goddess wakes, bright rays she waves; sets free.
With twinkling pow'r rolls Nyx, to 'clipse my soul.
'Tis dark Divine doth fear: the Night cajole.

Home For The Holidays

In this land the very light posts speak with the face of wisdoms long forgot.
Trees catch at the hooks of my heart and bid me linger there.
The crisp loneliness of silent winter dark holds no force as laughing children gamble through the mists, warm ghosts to lick up my eyes.
Every hill boasts, the rocks cheer, the road lines cry and curbs challenge.
Boulders feel cushiony-soft and all dangers take flight.
At the ocean's side I dance with the Night Wolf and watch as it turns to a dove, my old friend.
All the while the warm night sky blankets me the same, stars to show their face.
Old truths to speak their tales.