Poetry, sharing and reading


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    Alexander Valdes

      Hello! I’m posting this as a test on how active this community is. I’m currently enrolled in the Bardic course and, as a writer, have been generating work all the while. I plan on posting them in this thread and welcome any comments. Please feel free to share your work below as well!

      Often poetry is too centered to the subject we wish to address. Yes, we are a faith of nature, but not all of our work has to be connected so directly to the earth. Awen flows through all things and all topics.

      Alexander Valdes

        Also to get things started, here’s a poem from me! It’s about a dream I had, leading to a five hour long musical meditation.

        In my palm is soil and seed
        and growing from it, a tree
        with water running down it’s bark.

        Closing my eyes, the water creeps
        into my skin and veins
        then moves through my chest.

        Running my hand through a memory
        I feel old stone that pushes
        the water down to my legs.

        Where vines from my ankles
        wrap up to my knees-
        there are now dew drops on the leaves.

        Birdsong in my hair,
        my eyes open with sunlight
        and the vines grow higher.

        Blue meets green at the waist.
        noon settles, bugs chirping in my ears
        as soft clouds pass my shoulders—

        Night, and my teeth glow
        in the crescent moon.
        softer sounds echo in my nose.

        Water and vines together
        all the way past my fingernails;
        face of sky turned upwards.

        Sounds of my fathers music
        deep in the jungle-
        and there too is home.


          Hello Alexander and welcome.

          That’s an interesting poetic thought you’ve had there. It’s almost as if you’re remembering a past life as a tree and becoming one with Life. I hope you don’t mind my saying what your poem says to me. May I ask what kind of music was part of your meditation? I find all different kinds of music good when I’m meditating or trying to write, but if very often depends on my initial mood. What about you?


          Alexander Valdes

            Hello! Nice to meet you!

            Interpret the poem however you like! Once it’s written, it isn’t mine anymore (unless someone puts it in a book without asking lol).

            The song I was listening to specifically was O, Chí, Chí mi na mòrbheanna sung by the King’s Singers. Beautiful choral piece performed by John Cameron.

            If you have any work I’d love to see it! I’m a teacher by trade, and just a general fan of poetry. /|\


              Hello Alexander Valdes

              Right now I am learning about Cynghanedd—Kung-hah-neth, this will probably take me about 6 months to two years, but it will also force me to learn a lot about sound, consonants and phonics, If you are interested I suggest Celtic word craft by D. Idwal Lloyd, and Mererid Hopwood, singing in chains. Cynghanedd will definitely up your poetry game and open the doors to the otherworld. The Celts (Irish and Scottish) were into the sound of poetry. If you want to learn the druid secrets of Cynghaned it will be some work, but it will be be worth the time. If you do take the challenge, I hope you will send me the names of any good books on the subject that you find. Get ready to go on an adventure. Big Sails BlueFalcon and may Ogma be with you,

              david poole

                That is a very vivid poem Alexander, I felt as if I was listening to a tree telling me its story. You have had a very powerful experience within your dreaming and have shared it with us most eloquently.

                Alexander Valdes

                  Thank you guys so much for the feedback, it’s all I could ever want for my personal growth. I’m incredibly interested in learning more welsh poetic conventions and using them in my work, so thank you so much BlueFalcon for that recommendation.

                  And Mr. Poole thank you so much for the kind words. I don’t often dream (a side effect of a choice I made) but more and more as I open myself to this path I find myself in all sorts of experiences when asleep.

                  Also I really love the feedback but ‘d love even more to see other people’s work!!

                  Here’s another of mine to hopefully inspire someone to post their work:

                  How can I speak of an ocean
                  when my lungs are full of water and salt.
                  if I describe the shells, you will
                  miss the sand.

                  What sense is there to senseless blue?
                  There is no way to explain
                  my love of putrid water. In its waves I have
                  dissolved my memories,

                  and the brine tastes of seaweed and horseshoe crabs.

                  Summer De Graffham

                    Hi, just finishing my Taleisin in tale, it runs to a lot of pages..hahaha, if you get horrendously bored I could try and share it here when it’s done. I’m not a poet by any stretch of the imagination so this has been quite a Thing..mwahaaaaaa


                      Do share 🙂


                        Hi! I find your work very interesting, specially the one about the sea.
                        So I’d like to compose one myself, right now and right here:

                        “I wonder who set the path,
                        I wonder who may have run it.
                        If there is an aftermath
                        to making a home here in Brit.

                        Who dwells in the green dusty house?
                        Who observes us from the briar field?
                        What is to be undone?

                        I cheer for the great community,
                        but pity for those unlinked.
                        We will be calming necessity
                        with books and tattoos inked.

                        Why are the wolves my brothers?
                        Who is the bright lady whose light I stole?
                        How are you, great-grandma?

                        In trying times just remember
                        that resilience is a must.
                        It will get you from November
                        through a summer that’s everlast.

                        What hides in the stone cemetery under the old house?
                        When did I become myself?
                        Who knows all that happens?”

                        The questions are based on dreams I’ve had through the years, some of them scary, weird or meaningful, and some even seemed to be more than mere dreams.

                        I hope you like it, it’s been a great practice /|\

                        James Fox

                          Hi, I’m James. I was inspired to write a poem after a recent walk on Dartmoor where I live. Any remarks would be appreciated!

                          At Merrivale

                          Once a year, give or take, you visit us
                          Our friendship kindled once again.
                          And oft we choose to walk and talk
                          Upon the sacred land that’s ours.
                          Rain and mist and surface water
                          Greet the trip we make today
                          As rising up the hill we stroll
                          Antiquities and tors unfold.
                          The Long Ash Brook is running high
                          Stepping stones today submerged:
                          We detour up to where the stream
                          Is split in muddy rivulets
                          Through which we slosh and slide;
                          Then, on firmer ground, we climb.
                          Arriving at the railway line
                          Though dismantled long before our time
                          We follow its course around the hill
                          Through the cutting where the driver parked the train
                          In the blizzard of eighteen ninety-one
                          That he and all the passengers
                          Might not freeze to death:
                          Two days it was before their rescue.
                          Along the old Swell Tor siding
                          We pass the dozen granite corbels
                          Destined once for London Bridge
                          Unmoved an inch since the day they were dumped
                          At the start of the previous century.
                          We shelter from the breezy rain
                          Within the towering quarry walls
                          In the space vacated by
                          The rock that spans the Thames today.
                          As cake and coffee are consumed
                          I say how when I was a boy
                          A friend and I would cycle here
                          And climb up that near-sheer cliff
                          And stepping along a narrow ledge
                          Would haul ourselves upon the top:
                          Fifty years ago that was
                          Yet absolutely nothing has changed.
                          Later we try to find the site
                          Where King Tor Halt existed once
                          Where in that film of fifty-four
                          A sailor disembarked the train
                          And on the way to visit a farm
                          Has his lunch by a row of stones
                          Where we are now, but he is not.
                          But my attention is arrested
                          By the monumental sight
                          Of these stones so organised
                          In two straight lines upon the grass
                          That out the light grey wall of fog
                          Emerge as if from out the past
                          Ending but a short way hence
                          In rock set perpendicular:
                          Ancient presence present now
                          Granitic being before us, hail!
                          To the left and to the right
                          Standing pools of liquid lead
                          Re-emanate the grey sky light:
                          Light eternal of shrouded star
                          And life eternal suffusing all.

                          Alexander Valdes

                            This is a fantastic piece of work!!! I adored it, and I don’t normally go for that style of poem

                            James Fox

                              Thanks a lot Alexander. What sort of style is my poem and what sort do you normally go for?

                              Regards, James.

                              Alexander Valdes

                                Hello everyone,

                                Blessings and health to all of you who have taken time to write a piece here over the years.

                                Since this post I had a shaking of my faith as we experienced the anger of earth and it’s people. Nevertheless, with deep meditation I once again found the path and will have my first certificate in July! In my time between, I was blessed with the ability to patronize several artists to make creations for our faith, as well as a small collection of the minimal historic records related to our lost people. In this way, and many many others, the Spirit has changed my path.

                                Yet all that time, I got notices that other followers of Druidry had shared their work, and through that connection never forgot my place. Thank you all for your continued participation, and please keep sharing what you create!

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