Tag Archives: Celtic

The Real Eye-Guy…

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…It happened that one day Pryderi’s doorkeeper, Conan Duffy,

was sunning himself at the portal, along with his cat,

and he saw two beautiful youths

heading towards him over the game plain…

…When they reached the enrtrance to the Dun

the two youths saluted him, and he saluted them back.

*

“And who might you be?” Said Conan looking the

 two of them up and down, “and what is your business?”

 “Why, I might be Maech,” said one of them.

“And I might be Amech,” said the other, and she smiled…

Just then a loud groan issued from the fair mound, it was

Pryderi, Lord of Underhill, at pains with his arm again.

“…And we are both physicians,” said Maech and he smiled too.

*

“Well, if you are both physicians,” said Conan, “you’ll have

no problem putting a new eye where my old one used to be,

now will you?”

And he veered up close to show them his scar.

 Amech looked at the cat sunning itself by Conan’s side and said,

“we could put one of the eyes from that there cat, where your old eye used to be.”

“You could?” asked Conan.

“We could,” said Maech and with that the two of them swiftly

seized the cat, which is no easy thing if a cat does not want to

be siezed, and they did what had to be done, until one of the cat’s

eyes sat, as pretty as you please, in the head of Conan Duffy.

Conan blinked increduously and ran off into the fair mound…

*

“The Eye-Guy?”

“Oh yes…”

“And the Geometry?”

“For the Geometry, you’ll just have to wait.”

*

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The Eye-Guy…

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SPOILS OF THE ABYSS

 When Pryderi, Lord of Underhill, was treated for the

 injury done to his arm by Tyrnonos, Thunder-of-Water,

 his leech, Nudd, found that he was unable to save the limb; so

 he hacked it down to a stump and put a silver hand on Pryderi which

 was so cunningly crafted that it had all the movement of a natural hand.

*

Yet still Pryderi had no end of pain and trouble with the arm

and he was forever lying sick in his bed from the grief of it…

*

“Not a particularly auspicious start, and no sign of our ‘Eye-Guy’.”

“Give it time.” …

“Did they have ‘bionic’ hands in those days then?”

“A ha… I don’t know, did they have ‘bionic’ hands in those days?”

“I think not.”

“We are dealing with the Crafty Folk here, remember?”

“I still think not.”

“So, to what can the silver hand or arm refer?”

“It would be useful to know which we are dealing with, actually.”

“Some sources specify hand, some specify arm, and this lack of precision may itself be the clue to our non literal interpretation. You’d think they’d know!”

“You would.”

“Let’s settle on limb, then. To what can the silver-limb refer?”

“If it’s silver it could have something to do with the moon?”

“I think that’s a very auspicious start.”

“Or a tree?”

“Even better, what sort of tree?”

“A birch tree.”

“Now, I know that is an incredibly auspicious start.”

*

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The Plight of Black Conn…

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I, alone with White Feline

Each of us, one of a kind…

*

Her’s a mind on hunting, set

Mine is for my pet subject…

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What a curious thing, to see

Kept at task, so still, are we…

*

She with eye pressed to a nook

My nose buried in some book…

*

Housed together, we sit and find

Grand enchantments for our mind…

*

When a mouse peeks from its den

Sly and swift is Feline, then…

*

I seek wisdom day and night

Stalking darkness thro’ to light…

*

So, in peace our trades we ply

White Feline, the cat, and I…

*

Daily practice, patience played

Feline is perfect in her trade…

*

To draw the sense from wisdoms, high

My feeble wits, I am wont to try…

*

 

 

Egg of the Id…

*
When Fionn was a boy he was fostered on the hermit, Finaghast, who was to be his instructor.
The old hermit had been living by the river Boyne with the aim of catching the Salmon of Knowledge.
Tradition had it that the first person to taste the flesh of that salmon would receive
the gift of past and future sight and would become the wisest man in all Erin.
Finaghast had spent many years fishing in the river, hoping that
one day the Salmon of Knowledge would swim by.
*
One day, as Finaghast was pitching Fionn his, Auraicept, by the river, there were unusual stirrings in the water of the Boyne.
Old man and boy peered into the river and saw a beautiful, speckled salmon swimming swiftly towards them.
“The Salmon of Knowledge!” cried Finaghast running for his fish-net.
As he returned to the river-bank with the fish-net to hand, the Salmon of Knowledge leapt out of the water and gazed into his eyes.
*
Finaghast-the-Hermit, immediately collapsed to the ground in a deep sleep, for it was an ability of the Salmon that whosoever its gaze first fell upon when breaching the water course would always be put into such a condition.
Fionn ran to Finaghast and attempted to shake him awake, but to no avail.
With his instructor lost to the world it was left to the pupil to land the fish, which Fionn did, eventually, after an almighty tussle.
Still unable to wake his instructor, Fionn, set about cooking the salmon in the hope that the aroma of the broiling fish would bring old Finaghast round.
It nearly worked too, but just as the fish was softening nicely, and Finaghast began to stir, a drop from the boiling pot fizzed out and caught Fionn plumb on his thumb, so scalding him.
Fionn instinctively stuck his thumb into his mouth to cool it.
*
When Finaghast woke from his sleep he noticed a great change in his young pupil.
There was a light behind his eyes, like that of a flame, and his cheeks were glowing brightly.
“Fionn, did you eat of the salmon?” asked Finaghast.
“I did not eat of the salmon,” said Fionn.
“Fionn did you taste any of the salmon at all?” asked Finaghast.
Fionn then explained all that had happened and the old hermit realised that the grace of wisdom had been granted, not to him, but to his foster son…
*

Old Stones…

*

Built by the sea

But not of the sea

These enclosing walls…

*

It is a ‘Celtic’ thing

The Spirit tied-to-tide

And it is still understood

By today’s Old Bones…

*

There they sit

Lining the sea-front

Huddled together

Under-sun

Within ear-shot

Of the waves

Which lap the shore

And withdraw

On the out-breath

In ceaseless rhythm

Which hints at beyond…

*

Built by the sea

But not of the sea

These enclosing walls.

*

Bardic Study – Waltz of the New Moon…

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Another one of Robin’s early efforts.

When invoking the  Bardic Spirit  there  are not  too many candidates around, unfortunately…

For a spell this was my all time favourite song ever, if only for its helter skelter whirl of minor key madness…

*

I hear that
the Emperor of China
used to wear iron
shoes with ease…
*
I think these lines refer to a type of ‘not to touch the earth’ scenario.
That is, The Emperor, who is regarded by his subjects as a ‘God incarnate’ is held to be too sacred to be sullied by the touch of the earth.
In contradistinction to this rather absurd notion Robin then sets out his own position.
*
We are the tablecloth, and also the table, and also the fable of the dancing leaves…
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That is, we are  the structure and garment of life’s spread, both the Spirit and the Flesh and Bone, and the continual re-incarnation of the spirit in that continually recycled flesh…
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The new moon is rising
the axe of the thunder is broken
as never was
not since the flood
nor yet since the world began…
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This  process, in case we ever forget, is exemplified for us in the cycle of the Moon.
Every new moon then… is also a new beginning.
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The new moon is shining
the angels are washing their windows
above the years
whose jumble sale
goes spinning on below.
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Could anything be clearer?
*
Ask the snail beneath the stone,
ask the stone beneath the wall
are there any stars at all?
Like an eagle in the sky,
tell me if air is strong…
*
We may pity the stone and the snail their stony snail lives in the relative dark but even the eagle who knows about the sky and the stars knows nought of the constituents of the means of its flight.
These then are the natural and eternal hierarchies of an ever expanding understanding.
*
In the floating pan pipe victories
of the golden harvest
safe in the care of
the dear moon…
*
The notes of the pan pipe do float.
And the sickle moon is ultimately responsible for the cutting of the corn.
(This song was composed, at night, in a corn field, in August.)
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The new moon is rising
the eyelid of god is approaching
The humane train
the skating
raining
travelling
voice of certainty…
*
The new moon is shining,
the harmonious hand is now holding,
Lord Krishna’s ring,
the eagle’s wing,
the voice of mother,
everything…
*
And the voice of mother brings with it a bright blessing…
*
In the floating palaces,
of the spinning castle…
May the Fire King’s Daughter,
bring water to you.
*
The Fire King is the Sun.
The Fire King’s Daughter is the Moon.
The spinning castle is the Earth.
Its floating palaces are the Clouds.
*
…Which bright blessing, is… the rain.
 
*

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‘Waltz of the New Moon’ appears on The Incredible String Band’s third studio album, ‘The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter’, which is widely regarded as their finest album.

The title is colloquial slang for a gallows or scaffold.

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Sun, Moon and Stars…

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… “Before Ogma, I swear.
Before Sun and Moon and Stars,
before Sky, Land and Sea, I swear.
Before the Sidhe-Folk, I swear…

Defenders of the land,
victory and defeat are created in each of you.

What I ask of you in dealing with this foe
is not the work of cowards.

Our hosting in this conflict
will defeat those who have destroyed
the prosperity of the land.

Circling leftward I curse them!

*

Rod of Aspen
End Measure
Sod of End
Fuagh!

May the foe-men be hindered.
May fear be heard among them.
The End-Time has taken form.

Ravens will come upon our foe with doom,
and be their shared torment.

Their end goes before us to the foe;
they are mournful and doomed.

*

O, my Warrior Band;
my most warlike host,
in the burning fields of battle,
High-Folk will sustain your form in the clouds of the sky.

O you, my Glorious Ones,
a nine-fold brightness is upon us,
through the powerful skill of our men-of-art,
the battle fire will not falter until victory is won.

My Troops, greatest of sea-like hosts,
here in the beauty of the land,
a frenzy of battle invites you to embrace fate.

With mighty waves of golden, powerful, burning fires,
and battle lust may you seek out your foe upon the field,
embracing fate in a frenzy of battle.”

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