Hob
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Re: Seamus Heaney & Newgrange etc.
Mar 22, 2008, 17:11
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I think this one counts as megalithic (it actually includes the word itself), Heaney's 'Funeral rites' makes mention of The Boyne tombs and even cup-marked rocks (H'rah!)
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Littlestone
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Re: Seamus Heaney & Newgrange etc.
Mar 23, 2008, 15:39
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Hob wrote: I think this one counts as megalithic (it actually includes the word itself), Heaney's ' Funeral rites' makes mention of The Boyne tombs and even cup-marked rocks (H'rah!)
Nice one Hob.
That makes at least four poems on the megalithic theme by Seamus Heaney; his A Dream of Solstice here at http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/forum/?thread=23046&message=259467 is still my favourite though (think there are a few typos in there that I'll sort out eventually).
Happy Eostere to everyone by the way :-)
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Chris Bond
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Quoit
Mar 23, 2008, 19:23
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I awake to darkness.
Cold damp slabs of stone
on all four sides, and above.
In time I see the faint glow
as granite is pressed upon
by the tons of earth above me.
I feel the random shards of quartz
pulse in unison.
Beside me lies a flawless greenstone axe,
never used in labour, or in anger.
I wail a banshee wail,
but beyond, the moor is dark and vast, devoid of man.
And the chill wind blows
through the hooting carn
camouflaging my efforts.
There is no escape.
I lie in a foetal position and shiver,
and await my death.
Finally, the juddering ceases.
The body lies still,
and time hangs on a single heartbeat.
The darkness expands, and with it time.
I see my bones dissolve in the acid liquor.
I see men who wallow in abundance
and pillage for more.
I see a time when knowledge is a commodity
to be jealously guarded,
then sold to the highest bidder.
I see the bare bones
of the granite quoit
toppled and forlorn.
I see the axe no more.
Chris Bond, 25 February 2001.
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gjrk
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Re: Quoit
Mar 24, 2008, 00:30
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Wonderful. You've captured both the loneliness and the long lingering. It's the feeling that I often get from a monument, whether isolated or not.
In reply to:
Quoit (Chris Bond) |
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Chris Bond
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I & I
Mar 24, 2008, 14:39
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Thrice imprisoned I have been
Willingly and boldly keen
Wed to powders golden brown
A task once set to earn my crown
I await the day of liberation
Of capitalist capitulation
My hand to let the penny drop
And meek and poor will loot this shop
In days of olde the druids spoke
Of mistletoe beneath the oak
A golden sickle reaps the bough
Aft’ plenilune beneath the plough
The sword in stone is metaphor
A secret hidden on the moor
Of unhewn dolmen I will sing
To free this once and future king
And when the poets sing the Chûn
And resonate beneath the moon
The son will rise on solstice morn
And divine child will be reborn
I am Mabon, sun of earth
And moon and stars, my cosmic birth
Was long foretold in Celtic ode
A catalyst in cobalt woad
Chris Bond, 21 August 2000.
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Psychicmaster
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Re: Megalithic Poems
Mar 29, 2008, 23:35
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Trudging in Autumnal heat to visualise ancestor's feat,
of engineering, they knew how,
I wonder why, don't know right now,
The "Busy people" Ancient folk
knew how to toil, their Gods, their yolk,
but they were free in many ways,
than we, the slaves of debt and broke,
I capture pictures in the box, to paw, enhance, rotate, the lot
But when I see pixels abound, I know I travelled sacred grounds,
for their Gods call through nature's stone, I will return, never alone.
Jonathan Sansome
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Psychicmaster
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Re: Megalithic Poems
Mar 30, 2008, 00:13
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P.s. This poem was inspired by one of my visits to Silbury Hill. Psychicmaster wrote: Trudging in Autumnal heat to visualise ancestor's feat,
of engineering, they knew how,
I wonder why, don't know right now,
The "Busy people" Ancient folk
knew how to toil, their Gods, their yolk,
but they were free in many ways,
than we, the slaves of debt and broke,
I capture pictures in the box, to paw, enhance, rotate, the lot
But when I see pixels abound, I know I travelled sacred grounds,
for their Gods call through nature's stone, I will return, never alone.
Jonathan Sansome
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Psychicmaster
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Silbury
Mar 30, 2008, 00:13
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P.s. This poem was inspired by one of my visits to Silbury Hill. Psychicmaster wrote: Trudging in Autumnal heat to visualise ancestor's feat,
of engineering, they knew how,
I wonder why, don't know right now,
The "Busy people" Ancient folk
knew how to toil, their Gods, their yolk,
but they were free in many ways,
than we, the slaves of debt and broke,
I capture pictures in the box, to paw, enhance, rotate, the lot
But when I see pixels abound, I know I travelled sacred grounds,
for their Gods call through nature's stone, I will return, never alone.
Jonathan Sansome
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Psychicmaster
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Silbury
Mar 30, 2008, 00:13
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P.s. This poem was inspired by one of my visits to Silbury Hill. Psychicmaster wrote: Trudging in Autumnal heat to visualise ancestor's feat,
of engineering, they knew how,
I wonder why, don't know right now,
The "Busy people" Ancient folk
knew how to toil, their Gods, their yolk,
but they were free in many ways,
than we, the slaves of debt and broke,
I capture pictures in the box, to paw, enhance, rotate, the lot
But when I see pixels abound, I know I travelled sacred grounds,
for their Gods call through nature's stone, I will return, never alone.
Jonathan Sansome
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moss
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Re: Megalithic Poems
Mar 30, 2008, 08:37
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Welcome Jonathan, I see Silbury has inspired you to write a reflective poem, it will be added to this enormously long stash of megalithic poems.
I've just found, Jeremy Hooker's "Soliloquies of a Chalk Giant" Its the Cerne Abbas Giant....
Totem;
Where are the giant's people?
They have followed the mole
Under mounds. The Dance
Is a ring of stones.
Soon there will be nothing
But a breeze gathering dust
Over pale fields, a maze
Of ditches scored on the hill.
Unless a man stand naked
Of all but imagination.
Let him discover me.
I rise through him
Or lie here and wait,
Scratched in the chalk.
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