LOVE SHAPES

As lips 

partially apart

open forms 

free fall

gentle notes

musical airs

auricular shapes

whispered whims

borne 

phrase fruited 

vale

misted

love.

©MRL JUNE 23 2017

ORLANDO

I wrote this on hearing about Orlando and today after hearing of the brutal murder of the Jo Cox MP.

Then this applies to all who grieve wherever they live and whoever they are.

Be brave my friend/s

Let your tears fall

Mingle with mine

To gather in a pool

Of lingering emptiness

For we are just people

Of different shades.

Who feel the pain….

© MRL 13-6-2016

for Thea-Valerie

Come sit with me and let our minds drift

across a surface of polished water glass

Look deep beneath to see what arrives

Perhaps a memory of times past, 

An old yearning sweetly perfumed

As fresh as ever scintillates excites.

I sense your hand on my arm 

Warm and gentle your touch

As we walked a harbour side

It grieved me then knowing

That your dying was soon to be

On a date unknown to us both.

Today as I sit alone and not alone

I hear ripples of laughter,

her voice in deep bluesy songs

That echo from a hidden shore to mine

She is only half a whisper away 

so very very close yet I cannot see…..

© MRL 17-02- 2016

SOME CALL HER MOTHER (revised)

Some call her Mother. The Mistress of this land

Her body hidden haunts wild places for man

Whose calloused raw hands worked nippled

Cairns to stand proud on mountains

Hunted, fought bloodily among heathered tresses

Ploughed deeply her fertile plains to feed

Warrior lords, foreign, crippled with greed.

In Her a sea smooth cave, that once sheltered Fintan.

Crabs with dead mens fingers, sought a womb watery grave.

To rebirth rebellion - Freedom and the marrow

Of Her Favour!

She walks still this land breathing out love and inspiration

To those who seek justice for all of her people.

© MRL 1/2/16

last 2 lines added

A Bealtain Ode

Bealtáine Joys

O the joys of merry May when lovers to 

 hill sides go hand in hand gaily dancing 

carefree to their hidden bower!

© MRL 1/5/2015

CELEBRATING 72

Celebrating 72

Having now had a birthday and being undecided 

about my age. Am I twenty-seven or seventy-two 

because I only feel thirty-five inside ?

Site soothed eyes

How enticing looked
each side 
a mountain
green of smooth silk
ripe and lush
Tempted my eyes
lustily to roam
enjoy  savour
sweet freshness
beneath my tongue
to dance over 
swirl sip swallow 
deep inside 
a joy of wonder !

© MRL 11.01.15

02 - 2013

My Being Over Seventy

The joys of being over seventy are plentiful

a Forgetful memory is a boon at times

for I can claim to have done what 

I might have done or even did not.

the Hearing is another one won no need

to obey every request - formal or not

I can go on my way in merry innocence.

lack of Strength is another I can use

if an item has to be lifted or moved, then 

to every end I shall abuse.

None of the above is actually true

other than the first line.

My appreciations are simple: a fondness

of Beauty naked or clothed, 

Luscious lips

on which to give a fond kiss, 

Full moons

when I pretend to be demented and get 

away with naughty things. 

finally a Glass of fruity brandy because it makes

me R . . . y!

© MRL 02 - 03 - 13

05- 2012

Lip Tease.

the Women 

I fear to kiss

have a long mouth 

Thin 

slightly rendered 

for on

such  lips

I might slip 

swallowed

whole 

forever

gone.

Yet

Sweet

 rosebud

lips

plump pink

even 

lush red

ripe

moving

slightly

side to side

encourages

me 

to 

linger

and 

I'll say 

no more

for

your imagination

is all……….

© MRL 18-05-12

Neither prose or poem

Please read this first as it is my explanation of what follows.

1. This piece of writing concerns my considered thought, knowledge and reflection as such itis neither prose nor poem but offered as my philosophical musings.

2. I feel the need to say this, that my spirituality does not follow any religion or concepts of religious beliefs and that it is Knowledge that is my driving force from ideas created from life-experiences.

He might be my ancient ancestor

that Old God Brenin Llwyd

or even as Gwyn ap Nudd

the Grey King of the mists

who sat on Cader Idris and Eryri.

A powerful figure, a proud deity

seen as a threat to change

by priests of a foreign God.

He must have been popular

for they gave him a bad name.

and bedevilled him with shame.

Strange, their God is All  Love

and in His name came

slaughter and torture of

men, women and children

by fire, rope and sword

so to teach a world their Word.

Experts with cruel imagination

with lessons on fear,devil and sin.

Many years have passed, their priests

are now branded by folly and misdeed.

An awakening has come, for some,

for the Old Gods still live in popular tales 

now that we have learned 

to reverse the meaning and found 

a world alive with fairies, 

elemental energy and the ever living ones.

We embrace now Herbalists, Healers, Diviners

Druids, Seers and Wise Women in praise of children.

No fears of dying and death 

for all is cyclic, with evidence 

from past lives, we all rotate.

© MRL 24-4-2012

2011-5

A Lover 

In eastern sky a flame cherry orange-red 

sends thin fingers to slowly caress a dark silhouette

Reaching across tree tops, pinnacles of mounds, 

plains and hill sides of deep moist valleys

A gradual warming is released, 

sending a distinctive perfume to kiss

as a warm breath on a lovers cheek.

For dawn is bright light

and a Lover has returned

to she who is Great Mother.

His potent gift is all 

hers to have 

to bear 

fruit on earth.

©MRL  22-11-11

Driving Force

Driving Force

It's hard now

to recall that driving force

which raged stormed

through my mind

all those years

of apprenticeship.

as images struggled

to shape

lines of thought, words…

to mould twist pound

conjure clay

pliable grey matter.

my rules I learned

by listening

hearing rhythm

slow - sound - spaces

important gaps

tones of oration

ownership.

coloured vibrant

free flying

love language

sent to torment

provoke

warm tears

in a readers

heart-mind.

© MRL 06-09-2011

Ireland Inspires (1999-2006)

MIDNIGHT UNDER FULL MOON

Midnight under Full Moon

I stood in silence, alone

Darkness wrapped around me

A cloak woven of mystery

That night

That night I was stone

A ghost from the future

Ancient ones drew near

The ever living spirits…

That night

That night

Out from dark clouds

Shone a swathe of light

Glimmering on bronze cauldron

Water filled, pure, energised

That night

That night

Whispered chants sang

In forgotten language,

a Tribute Echoed

over stone and plain

That night

That night arms raised in unison

Their athames one thousand

Carved a matrix

To the Mother of Creation.

That night

©MRL 29 .12. 99

Contrary to Belief.

With new spiritist s

I am greatly confused

by their

loud thoughts

long words

and

third party

quotations!

For

like a spinning coin

one cannot see

their centre

for the edge!

© MRL 1984

amended 2005

You & Me

You and me shall we

Shall we find the place

Where goodness lies ?

On the horizon over there

From where the bird flies

Look!

©MRL 20. 01. 2000

MAIDEN WILL YOU DANCE?

Maiden will you dance

Dance, dance, dance with me

Circle right circle left

Intertwine, dance with me

Make the circle thine

Sense the rhythms wildly

Dance, dance, dance with me

From your heart great joy bring

Maiden will you dance

Dance with love sing with me

Maiden will you dance

Dance with me a circle

Raise the power of ecstasy

Dance,dance, dance with me

Feel the beat flowing through

Maiden will you dance

Sing of the Great Goddess

Lady of the dance

Sun, Moon and Planets too

Creator-ix of me and you

Dance, dance, dance with me.

©MRL 02. 01. 2000

THEY TELL ME…

They tell me I must change, change my ways

And conform to their understanding

They tell me that I will be free.

To unlock a door – you need a key!

I did that before and lost…..Me.

I like the richness of poverty

And the smell of FREEDOM

I crave the taste of inner joy.

What is it that they offer me?

I don’t understand ?…(I do)

I’m not a prisoner of society

To work from nine till six

I have the ability to pick and chose

The expressive temperament is my own.

I walked their road before….LOST.

Lost my identity, lived a lie

For a mortgage and a marriage

And danced every day to their tune.

I escaped clause and contract.

Re-discovered me as a plural identity

Not schizophrenic or identifiably mad

Just different, that’s all…..

They look at me and don’t see

The secrets that inhabit this body

Nor the Bloom, that buds in my soul.

©MRL 03. 01. 2000

My Eyes

My eyes have seen a jewel

Whose radiance red gold

Enflames my mind alive

Filling the heart with love

And my being rejoices!

©MRL 04. 01. 2001

‘For all the ladies that I have loved

and all the others that I never met..’

IF I WAS ….

If I was wind

My gentle breath

Would linger caress

Shoulders to finger tips.

If I was rain, droplets

Would cascade gleaming

Diamonds brighter than light

That shines from your eyes.

If I was snow, flakes

As Rose petals, perfumed

By dawns early dew

Would cling tenderly on you.

If I was Sun, on you

No shadows would play

Only joy fun lights

and

Smiling beams all day.

©MRL 07. 01. 2000

HELLO ! ….said the ‘Stars’.

“Hello” said the stars

as she passed from above

Spiraling earthwards,

Brilliant, light as a dove.

She looks like Oliver

So they say

With the Lawrence’s long fingers.

All this on her first day!

With cousins all around

Their big faces peering down

(a pen is poised to record)

Lia’s every bill and coo!

Quietly, we old one’s wonder

What gifts has she brought

What will she do….?

Artist or Healer or very dis-similar

Her path she has chosen

With individual right

Lies a secret- well hidden

Held in her heart so tight.

As only a child of the ninth day

Of the first month

Will do!

©MRL 10. 01. 2000

Heron

Black bog pools stare, glassily

As dumb dark eyes to ashen sky.

Frozen fronds droop down in death

Prehistoric man long infused.

As chalk dust lies in clay form

Under grazed barrow hill.

And brittle grass crunches as glass

Underfoot as Heron pecks hungrily.

The glazed green pond on

Skeletal sinewy sticks, long.

© MRL 17. 01. 2000

An Epitaph for Tom Coffey

Jan 3rd

The wild winds of Winter

Blew strong all day

To take an old one home.

My neighbour,Tom Coffey.

All day they came,his friends

In cars of every class

To visit those that grieve

The Wife and The Son.

Up agin the Slieve Bloom

He will lie with his kin.

A man of the land, a farmer.

Lean, skin weathered by wind,

polished smooth

His head a shock of white locks.

With features chiselled like the land

His that borders The Barrow

Has gone to plough.

A field of bright stars!

© MRL 08. 01. 2000

Memories

From body filled chair

Memories misted seep

Into candle lit room

Slow shaping shadows

In half light dance

and glide the night away.

©MRL 02. 02. 2000

DARK MOON

Magic wove its way

Around nine grey stones

Faerie light danced

As mortal man

Stood entranced

Embracing

The Great Goddess

on a

Dark Moon night

MRL 27. 10. 2000

A WINTER OFFERING.

Winter’s sharp passion sings

Thro’ black brittle thorn limbs

Over old Áine’s fertile plains

Where summer ferns once grew

Lush: in valleys - hidden places

Deep where springs weep.

Eriu’s blood flows fresh, new

birthing stone frosted icicles

to glint in watery sunlight,

as the rapier

swords of youth.

©MRL 26. 12. 2001

MY DRUID PLEA.

Teach me Goddess – God to be Free

TO

Hear the truth

See the truth

Know the truth

Speak the truth

Understand the truth

Defend the truth

Teach me Goddess – God to be Free

TO

Know love

Give love

See love

Speak love

Hear love

Understand love

Defend love

Teach me Goddess – God to be free

To be Sincere.

©MRL 29. 12. 2002

SOME CALL HER MOTHER.

Some call her Mother. The Mistress of this land

Her body hidden haunts wild places for man

Whose calloused raw hands worked nippled

Cairns to stand proud on mountains

Hunted, fought bloodily among heathered tresses

Ploughed deeply her fertile plains to feed

Warrior lords, foreign, crippled with greed.

In Her a sea smooth cave, that once sheltered Fintan.

Crabs with dead mens fingers, sought a womb watery grave.

To rebirth rebellion - Freedom and the marrow

Of Her Favour!

©MRL 11. 09. 2003

The East Wind

O cruel are the days of an Easterly wind

to blow on door and take heat from hearth.

Hated like an English plague, an over lord from history

no mirth, no joy, no wheat all gone to Save Your Majesty.

Safe are we when West wind blows Atlantic freshness,

that delightfully dances, disinfects with merry airs

A breeze tuneful and warm; strong grows the harvest

for I gladly await a plentiful Lughnasadh to celebrate.

Rich berries plump and ripe, golden barley growing tall

the song of a thresher amid the corn, a maidens gift to all.

Apples for the first cider an amber liquid frothing forth fills

Tankards, that raise high to toast The Goddess Mother's will.

©MRL 01-07-04

Telepathy

Out there minds walk

as tall as buildings

Sinuously connected

their vibrant filaments

pluck the forehead

From out there

a tweak, a vibration

Beyond our physical

manifests a subtle signal

tuned from a spirit sister

Pulses a sub rosa magneton

an essence sublime

of the Goddess

that

iradicates thought!

©MRL18 - 02 - 2004

AWE.

O Slender goddess,O Sylph,

O Green Woman!

Living in a world of verdant veils;

You contain all mystery of life.

Like Moon your sister, together

Dressed in feathery dark dreams

that tease, tempt and torment

Passionate fevers in men.

No touch, taste, sweetness

spice or aroma can measure

Maintain or acclaim the qualities

Of your Deep Sisterhood.

Jewels of the night sky twinned

In pale countenance, thy beauty

Pervades all mental stability

to scream your secret name.

Dazzled is the brain,

muted the mind

silent the voice

all is

Awe!

MRL © 2004

There be times.....

that I would be glad to be a hermit in some distant land,

away from all the troubled people.

I'd sit there in splendid isolation believing in my simple way,

that all the world were perfect in being happy like me.

You see I don't ask for much as I gaze up at the stars

and they being very distant,. Only twinkle back at me!

So tiz easy to believe that all is love and harmony

and ever more will be, since Venus passed in front of Sun.

So from damp little Laois I wish thee,

gentle warm winds and peace,

may the birds sing

and the stars twinkle to you too!

©Meflyn R Llwyd 17 June 2004

DILEMMA.

Alone with thoughts

glides solitary bird

in empty skies.

sour songs over wires

telegraphs mutely

crow clacking cawk.

a head wind sculpted

mountain face abrupt

interrupts flight.

Ascend to high sky

eternal etheric blue

chance select choose.

Dilemma!

© MRL 07 -12 -04

WINTER 2004

At a distance

past the window

lie silent fields

barely green

between hedges

and further stands

of bristled brooms

upturned.

Ghostly

new trees birth

in spectral mist

grey smokey

sentinels soft

drift amid old

summer’s growth.

© MRL 12 -12 - 04

ICE MOON

Large ice April cool Moon hangs over

Slieve Bloom hills

Illumines rider in long black dress

with white round Roman collar

and crucifix in hand out thrust

Hurries through foothills fast

Towards his eternal pit

Condemned!

Forever lost knowing not Love

nor warmth, nor pagan dance

of

Stag and Hind at old Bealtaine

whose rhythm's turn

A Great Wheel!

©MRL Oct 2005

FEBRUARY

Crows

strong

in wind

fly low

over fresh

harrowed

ground

February's

sharp

sun

glows

rich

on cool

hallowed

earth

Contrast

Fallow

field

where

old velvet

slippers

dance

silver

slivered

on a

green

minuet

of

Creation.

© MRL 25 -10- 05

My Lady

Beyond the stars she stood

Dressed in midnight blue

My lady .......a Madonna

Slight, stooped as in prayer

With half a turn glanced down

and

in

That moment gave life

Love

Later, I saw her form

Dream like, not clear

My lady ... a madonna

In a maternal hue,

Full of expectant life

and bright were the stars

Amid heavens dark blue.

©MRL 1981

My Lady (ii)

Still and clearer now, still

My lady.......I see her

A diadem wholly of virtue

and from her brow pours

Kissed colours as sun-fires

and

Dressed is My Lady

In purest light.

© MRL 2005

O’ Sweetness

Pain

as exquisite

passion

Bludgeons

the mind

Relentlessly

Anticipation

of expectation

Teases

awaits

Pleasure

Finger nail

feathers

nipples

warms

delight

Body

trembles

writhes

cords

tighten

in silence

Gasp!

for eyes

water

from

wondrous

pain

of cane

O' Sweetness

I Am

Blessed

again

and again

Again!

©MRL 19. 06. 05