In the Land of Ire, the Spires Come Forth

In the Land of Ire, the Spires Come Forth

A Poem by David W Moore III
"

Selene, the beryl is a nod of the hat to you!

"
From the depths of a well, 
Below air, water, and earth, 
In the forge of gods 
Brighid intones her verse. 
She calls forth the living rock 
In iambic pentameter. 
Spires of nephrite and green beryl 
Rush to do her bidding 
And push to meet the air: 
A field of scintillating emerald. 

A boy wanders aimlessly between the stalks 
Marveling at their glory. 
Inside each, a different shade 
Reflects back his visage 
Encaging another soul. 
Sunlight plays through cleancut edges 
Projecting motion pictures 
Of lives once lived and more to come. 

Soon he is lost. 
Sharp corundum blades slice his feet 
Drawing forth rivulets of crimson 
Seeping down to the roots. 
At first sung of healing, 
Brighid's song takes a turn 
As she weaves her charm. 
The boy could not be harmed. 

Father Daghdah frowns with pity 
and makes the sun stand still, 
While playing his harp to much smaller end. 
The boy lies down and is soon asleep. 
Tuatha by the scores venture 
To see the sight, 
With whispered voices 
Buzzing in the swarm. 
The boy could not be harmed. 

A choir of Bean Si' caoin 
And sing their song of old, 
Serenading the boy with presage; 
An odious melody 
Sends tendrils into his soul, 
Leeching hope and faith 
From his brittle bones 
Leaving him truly alone and unarmed. 
The boy could not be harmed. 

Father Daghdah resumes his mesmerizing strumming, ravvivando. 
Sun and stars answer his call, 
Quickening to dizzying pace, 
And an eon passes in the space of one chorus. 
Macha of the three morrigna 
Rides forth on her majestic horse 
And looks down on the aged boy. 
"Child of man, with strife in your heart, 
You bleed hostility from your veins. 
Come, be my bannerman 
And die endlessly for me." 
He pulls himself unsteadily to his feet 
And shakes his head 
To her withering stare. 
Old man was not alarmed. 
The boy could not be harmed.

© 2011 David W Moore III


Author's Note

David W Moore III
A little bit of Celtic mythology woven into this one. Hope you like it.
(ravvivando is a musical term for speeding up) Bean Si' is the Irish celtic term for Banshee
And I took considerable license with these characters to fit my story. There essence, however remains intact.

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Reviews

Enchantingly perfomed peice, love the imagery and fabulous creativity.. You've unfolded a beautiful story with great rythm, I'm at a loss for words.. Your writting is amazing.. :)

Posted 7 Years Ago


Ruby red and does not harm his protected state...Sharp corundum blades slice his feet

Drawing forth rivulets of crimson

Seeping down to the roots.

At first sung of healing,

Brighid's song takes a turn

As she weaves her charm.

The boy could not be harmed.

Posted 7 Years Ago


this is amazing, great write, keep it up

Posted 8 Years Ago


I love this! It flows almost melodically, as if it could almost be sung as a ballad. I love the repetition of that last line. Awesome job. The detail was enchanting, I could tell you put a lot of thought into this. Nice work.

Posted 8 Years Ago


The detail is amazing and the flow is done quite well. Your title is what drew me to the piece. I thought it might have a bit of a Celtic tone to it.

Posted 8 Years Ago


WOw. What an awesome write! Great job

Posted 8 Years Ago


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Jae
Lovely! Beautiful imagery and i absolutely adored this!

Posted 8 Years Ago


Absolutely enchanting. Your vocabulary and dreamland imagery are heart melters. Your touch of selenish wonders...mouthwatering. Bravo.

Posted 8 Years Ago


Great write!

Posted 8 Years Ago


A beautiful poem! I love how you took the essence of Brighid and Daghdah and put them in your writing. I cannot even begin to describe how much I like this or why. It's breathtaking.
~Blessed Be and Merry Meet, Merry Part, Merry Meet Again

Posted 8 Years Ago



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Added on December 8, 2010
Last Updated on June 2, 2011

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David W Moore III
David W Moore III

New Orleans, LA



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