I have a passion for Irish folklore and so wrote The Morrigan....She is a goddess of folklore who appears to those on battle grounds just before death..she is also the goddess of fertility and I like to think thats why she let Paddy live......
I lay on blood stained battle ground
crashing swords,as knife hit knife
and closed my dying tired eyes
for reason still unknown to me
a woman , taking form of crow
at time of death releases soul
she whispers in my ear… goodbye
oh morrigan please let me live
she stares then smiles,.. then walks away
she spared this merest mortals life
she comes at death takes bravest men
the morrigan,a goddess queen
so now on newest eve of year
and if on roofs there’s ravens sat
© eliza 2010
feodora's lane
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Monday, 21 March 2011
Witches Galore
Though I tried and I tried,I just couldn't take flight
And tonight of all nights my old broom playing up
When I'm a contender for the witches gold cup
A prestige's award yes I've been nominated
so please understand why I'm feeling frustrated
After many a year wishing and praying
Finally tonight I could have been saying
Who I'd like to thank...then I'd start to cry
This dream wont come true if old broomy wont fly
Now I remember,my stupid old cat
today peed on my broomstick and all over my hat
I'll cast her a spell my old broom I will dry
and as quick as a flash We'll be ready to fly
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Queen of nine days
The tragic story of Lady Jane Grey ...who was used as a puppet in the year15.53.She did not want to be Queen and reined for only nine days,until Queen Mary or bloody Mary as she was known was declared rightful heir to the thrown....and seventeen year old Jane and her young husband Guildford 's fate was sealed.Youn Lady Jane politely asked her executioner if he could take her head off before she laid it down....he answered "No madame" and cut off her head.........
Queen of nine days....
Pick petals from this pretty flower
await my death this final hour
I watched them take to tower hill
my Guildford as my heart stood still
in bluest skies,the ravens soared
as London's masses cheered and roared
with Axe they severed my loves life
I sit alone, his truest wife
and all for sake of crown and heir
my neck,that once you called so fair
will fall and die at tower green
nine days thee hosted me as Queen
oh Guilford ,keeper of my heart
no longer shall we be apart
at last the final petal falls
my name I hear all England call
impatiently I long for death
your name I shout with final breath
the sweetest day 19th July
tonight again with thee I'll lie
at rest ,so young aged seventeen
the Queen is dead..... long live the Queen
eliza2010
Natures grand display
He walked his field of ripened corn,
that brightest warmest summer morn.
More humbled than a man had been
enchanted by this wondrous scene
of harvest days proud crops ashow
his land a rich and golden glow.
His fertile pastures deep and wide
outstretched his land with sense of pride
and gazed as far as man could see
what mother earth bestowed to he
when dawn had broke,on fields of corn
a son,for him this morning born
so pondered to himself a while
and on his face there crept a smile
for glorious natures grand display
this brightest warmest summer's day
Last Modified: June 21, 2010 at 06:55 pm
that brightest warmest summer morn.
More humbled than a man had been
enchanted by this wondrous scene
of harvest days proud crops ashow
his land a rich and golden glow.
His fertile pastures deep and wide
outstretched his land with sense of pride
and gazed as far as man could see
what mother earth bestowed to he
when dawn had broke,on fields of corn
a son,for him this morning born
so pondered to himself a while
and on his face there crept a smile
for glorious natures grand display
this brightest warmest summer's day
Last Modified: June 21, 2010 at 06:55 pm
Labels:
corn,
fields,
harvest poem,
new birth,
pride,
scenesummer
Friday, 18 March 2011
I met the spring
I met the spring this morning while going for a walk. I sensed that she was busy and had no time to talk.
Within her arms a bundle of plants and shoots and seeds.
Adorned her neck with snowdrops she wore like flower beads.
Her dress was sewn from crocuses , a fragrant scented gown.
And on her head wore bluebells , she'd placed there like a crown
And as I made to pass her, into her arms was drawn
and from her warm and light embrace know winter's almost gone
Within her arms a bundle of plants and shoots and seeds.
Adorned her neck with snowdrops she wore like flower beads.
Her dress was sewn from crocuses , a fragrant scented gown.
And on her head wore bluebells , she'd placed there like a crown
And as I made to pass her, into her arms was drawn
and from her warm and light embrace know winter's almost gone
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