Invocation To The God
This one was written under the influence of Leigh Ann Hussey's tape "Homebrew" and my love of the first poem written by mortals on Ireland, The Song of Amergin.
"M" is also for "Mayfly"
This was my first sonnet. I wrote it for Dr. Madeline Daniels, although she's never seen it. It came to me after we broke up, partly due to some extremely vicious things she said to and about me. What can I say? I've been known to love less than wisely...
Anyway, mayflies live very short lives; about one day on the average. At the end of the relationship, I felt as though it had been the briefest of moments, although in some ways it had been eternally long. As my friends in PA used to say, "That Rob...He's cute, but he's not too swift sometimes." Well, some still say that...
Singing In The...What?
This, on the other hand, is about Diana McCleery, with whom I have been in love for years (I just wasn't ready to admit it), and with whom I will always be in love. I've only actually promised to love her for a million years, but that's a fairly good start, don't you think?
I know, I know: I can hear you saying it from here: "Yeah, sure, Mr. I've-Been-Known-To-Love-Less-Than-Wisely. You say that now, but don't come crying to us later on." All I can say is "This is different. I don't have words to describe it, but there is no doubt in my mind. With past relationships, there has always been doubt. Not here. Deal with it, 'cause I'm not changing."
The Sacred King
This speaks to a very old and primal story. I don't know if it's historically true or not, but it's likely there are some historical elements to it. It is reminiscent of James Frazier's "The Golden Bough, although I like to think this poem is a little more readable than Frazier.
Tonight Is Beltaine Eve
This is about one of the holy days in Wiccan tradition, and about some of the celebratory activities that traditionally took place on that day. Beltaine Eve is May Eve: the Celts reckoned days as beginning at sunset, just as Judaic tradition does.
This one is written to the tune of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," basically because I don't know how to write music.
Forgetting
This one is another paean to my love. Y'know...I hope she's not embarrassed by these things, because if she is I'll have to pull them.
After All...
And yet another for Diana. I really do have more poetry, honest! I just have this handy because it's what I've been writing lately. Funny thing: in previous relationships I've almost never been able to write for or about my lover until it was over (angst and regret are great for inspiring poetry), but somehow Diana inspires me. What can I say?
Sacred Marriage Casting
This is a short one I wrote "on demand" for Circle casting. If you don't know what that means, you probably won't understand the poem very well either. If you do know what that means, you should get at least a vague idea of what's going on here.
Huy Braseal
I have no idea where this one came from. I wrote it back in 1995, but that's all I remember about it.
The Song Of The Hunt
This one is about hunting and being hunted. It has a bit of a twist at the end.
The Wild Hunt
This is different from the preceding hunt poem, being of a much more spiritual nature. The mythology of the Wild Hunt is varied; for example, its leader is said to be figures ranging from Odhinn to Herne the Hunter to Sir Francis Drake! It's a terrifying and dangerous thing to see the Wild Hunt, and the nights on which the Hunt rides are nights to stay indoors, close to the fire. In some stories, the Hunter gathers up the spirits of those who've died over the past year and takes them to the Otherworld. In this story, well...
The Wheel of the Year
Wiccans see the year as a wheel, cycling from one season to the next. There are eight major holidays that celebrate that cycle, and each has particular things associated with it. This poem tries to capture some of those things, although by no means are all represented. I thought this one was lost, so I'm very glad to be able to present it here at all.
I Was There
This one came to me in the autumn of 2004. I'm not entirely comfortable with the way it segues from personal to political, and I think it's a little rough in places, but it certainly expresses my feelings on the subject. I've learned a lot from being a Dad, particularly how it opens up your heart to joys and fears you could not have imagined. As I was writing this, I found myself thinking of an old song over and over:
Come all you young lads, now, take warning by me;
Don't go for a soldier, don't join no army.
For the dove she will leave you, the raven will come
And death will come marching to the beat of a drum.