Kiandhra
Spirit of the wood (Kiandhra 2023)
Horns dripping with old moss as befits
this noble monarch
He taps his hoof into the icy water
and barks to the moonlit sky.
Soft wet breeze in the mist of my wood
Witness tears of this redundant Stag in the moments lost
When the bright young intruder takes the crown
With his stolen leash of Doe he surround.
Upon the mossy earth I sit me down,
Tired, old, my own cold tears flood the ground.I stare across the stream to the ancient Stag,
We connect through eyes, our spirits unified, Both the same, No aim, No purpose, We dream of what we had.
Further upstream I see another shape,
Tree or man clothed in oak and moss
I call but in that North wind all is lost.
The Green Man, in his well-known guise
Walks towards the Stag and I,
Fearing the worse, for a hare’s breath I close my eyes.
The Stag stands in an adoring blue misty flame,
Taken to the realm of ancestors, beyond this plane.
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Over the shoulder of the Green One I spy another,
Dressed in a white hooded robe, a brother.
A gold bandeau upon his forehead,
And on his white beard icicles have bled.
A carved yew stave in his right hand,
With his boney left he beckons me to follow.
I shake well my cold dark head,
Not this day,
Perhaps tomorrow.
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Kiandhra
(Ancient Earth)
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THE PATH (Kiandhra 1992) This poem was exhibited on a tree as part of the 2024 Belper Arts Trail.
Imagine, if you will, a garden.
And in this garden
A luxurious carpet of good ripe fruit
High above, tall trees become the roof.
You part a door of long grass.
And find you there a winding path.
Step upon step you walk with the day.
With a heart that gleefully pounds
Each new breath the only sound.
Imagine then a disease,
So vile that your garden screams,
As it tears into the heart
Laying cruel brambles on your path.
In its wake, as it must,
Where once was green,
now is dust.
Imagine, as I know you can,
The Garden – Earth,
The Disease – Man.
The Breath of Imbolc
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Hand in hand we walk the woodland path,
Where spiral and circle hold the Earth.
Brigit the maiden, her willow spy.
Above us the new moon fills the sky.
The owl, the buzzard, the timid shrew,
Since the first of time know to be true,
That upon the air many do call
The Breath of Imbolc will break through.
As glorious buds in trees do show,
Valiant bulbs push through the snow.
We sit with ancestors by the spring,
Beneath the ancient yew tree,
We all shall remember them.
Kiandhra 2023
Father Moon
(Kiandhra 2024)
Hey!
Hey! Father Moon!
You disturb me from my sleep
Of soft warm dreams you cheat.
The spirit of the west within me,
Stirs and whirls as it should be.
Yet you just sit up there
You wax, go full, wane
And renew.
Do you care?
I envy you.
My life is linear
It has a clear end
And it be quite soon
I envy you, Father Moon.
You pull me from my sleep
And yet grateful I truly be
I mock you ugly one
For within you there is beauty.
Hey! Father Moon!
You disturb me from my sleep,
Of soft warm dreams you cheat.
Hey! Father Moon!
Come back soon.
FALSE CUSTODIAN
(Kiandhra 1992)
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Truth takes hold the banner of Man,
As that black shadow deep in forest stands,
Tall, high, above all the beasts,
Yet of their soul he does feast.
False Custodian of Mother Earth,
Careless with the key to his own rebirth.
With it in hand to Pandora’s box,
In the name of progress, he does unlock.
Boney hand releases to precious atmosphere
Those gases, poisonous, for vanity fair.
Too late to shut that awesome box,
As once cool breeze becomes volcano hot.
Fear seen in the lanterns of all,
As Man tries, stumbles and falls,
And trips upon that delicate balance
That once held true our fair Planet.
Whispers of the End of Time to come,
When forest burns to mimic the Sun.
When no fish swims, no bird will fly.
And others will run ‘til they die.
On the edge of that Time
Man, in his wisdom, has awoken to find
That he will leave nothing, but nothing, behind.
Turning the Stonehenge wheel (Kiandhra Summer Solstice 2023)
We picnicked here amongst the giant stones,
It was the 60s then, we were not alone.
Age seven I lay upon the altar,
Cheese sandwich, drunk Tizer not water.
Things felt different then,
We had freedom without stating it,
I lay my head on the stone and fell asleep.
When I awoke sixty years had passed,
Now cropped hair and white beard,
I certainly looked the part.
Seven thousand others joined the party,
Drums and didgeridoo made it noisy.
We watched it set,
We watched it rise,
There the old man cried.
Lughnasa Circle (2023) Kiandhra
(Appeared in Witch Magazine, Lughnasadh 2024)
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I chase the fading summer Sun
And walk alongside the Ancient Ones
Who guide my path to you.
We stand within the stone circle,
And call the Elements to the hill
Then remember the harvest god Lugh.
I tease the grain in my hand
As we pass the bread around
And blow the grain to the moon.
We give thanks to Mother Earth
My friends here know her worth.
Flames in the circle, dance and swoon.
We are many, we are one
As we sing the healing song
Each in turn crumble paper to flame
Before we leave this sacred place
The evening chill upon my face
And remember those that must remain.
