- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Sidhe Devils
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Click hereListen, and take note Brothers
There in the wood wetted wind,
The ghosts of your fathers,
And theirs, and theirs,
Play myths on the bone racks
Of sidhe and others.
The sea appears as but a castle moat,
Sure they followed us here.
Hidden in whiskey,
And tobacco, and song.
To dance the dance on new soil,
To shout out the victories by rote.
Old truths burrow deep in the blood,
As a fever once ravaged your mind.
A dim recollection of a haunting,
Of circles drawn,and crosses carved.
Invocations for battle and glory,
Keening for famine and flood.
Who shall pass on the tales of my tribe?
Flesh specked hammers falling,
Carving out a path for certainty,
Giving pride to those
Dying in ditches,
In poverty to wretched to describe.
The light grows dull in stages
O're the fog bitten cliffs of Moher.
Traces of footsteps
There around ancient fires,
Wait to be traced again,
And let loose the sidhe from cages.
- COMMENTS
WickedEveover 19 years agopull the reader right in. I love all your word choices. This is a fantastic poem!
*No longer using the thermometer.
Merrymakerover 19 years agoI enjoy how this pulls you along through the mist...nicely done.
~Merry
BlueskyBeautyover 19 years agoi thought this said plenty.
kinda sad really.
nice read
normal jeanover 19 years agomaybe I see something that isnt there, but I really like this poem, esp this part-
The sea appears as but a castle moat,
Sure they followed us here.
Hidden in whiskey,
And tobacco, and song.
To dance the dance on new soil,
To shout out the victories by rote.
