Shadows along the Ley.

Another Druid poem. Perhaps its riptides will take you out to the Sea of Awen.

The shadows fall long in the darkness of the night.
Because behind you there still is yet a Ray of ancient light.

Into them you slowly walk down the Ley.
While the sands of time pour out a another Day.

It is quite and very cold  to  heart and soul along the Ley.
For a hundred thousand years you have walked this secret lonely way.

Leaving so many bodies turned dust and of bone of Stone.
Still none of them them, could ever really claim you for their own.

And once again you walk the the hard hurt lands of the Druid's Ley.
The World beckons with flashing lights and glamor of a modern Day

But for the Dark Druid  skinwalker, the Ley is his only home and to our kind offers so much  more.
Pausing  again to  listen to the eternal Seas of the of Time whispering as they crest upon its magick shore.

Over and over they cry out. You are Adder, you are Back, You are with Us, You are Ours Evermore.

Poem of Taliessin: translated by Edward Celtic Davies

"I am a Druid; I am an architect; I am a prophet; I am a serpent" (Adder)

TDK

(c) George King 2013

Cursing Rosc Prayer

The Bards Word Slayer

THe Mind and the Will.
The Bow and its Quiver

What we think is our arrow, be it Good be it Bad
This is why as people are always so Sad.

So at a low level we are all cursing or blessing all the time.
Thoughts are Power often unbuild yet in the House of Rhyme.

But for Cursing and Blessing a class I do teach.

But only for Silver and to most out of reach.

Tomorrow and the Cauldron of Vision

I can understand  how our ancient Druid and Druidess Seers, fáidh, gweledydd, vates felt.

As they turned over the Cauldrons of Vision, swearing to never look again. Old Roman was at the forest edge. New Roman is at the whole World's edge now!

Tomorrow

All the Trains quit running and the Bridges fell Down.

Most of the People were Dead and even the Buzzards were not around

Rich Men burned money to stay warm in the Towers of the Sky.

A hundred stories was to much to descend so none came down to see their great Sin.

The Power was the last to go as what few still living workers just sad hell No.

All the Bankers had been cooked on the spit after GMOs were proven to cause the epidemic Zombie fit.

Some said as they roasted the rat, Druids and Witches survived, hidden in deep woods guarded by a giant Cat.

But no Gas for cars was to be found, the only thing in abundance was Death spread across the Ground.

Once a week the Drones would fly by. Somewhere hidden Government watched from the
Sky.

Little water was fit to drink,, rain from chemtrails eat through ever the sink.

But why should we worry why should we cry. After all we were born to just die.

TDK

(c) George King August 4, 2013

Naila and Wood

Nails in Wood hang round the neck.

Mark of Slave to lies so old.

To hide the Truth they Burned the Witched and the Bold.

For those that known it but pervious Gods Lives.

That that they stole.

To create myth and chains in Gold.

And sell insurance against Hell's Hole.

TDK

Mystery of the Fae.

Just a few hours before the roster crows, the old Druid at last back, makes his way.

Tess time of the Full Close Moon and night was a bright as many a day.

A smile had crossed his lips as he blew his second immortal Lady a kiss along the Ley.

For each night he must go to the Alter Stones and feed the Demon stray.

They guard the hidden portal to land of the other way.

Out of which each night come the Swarms that only the High Druidess can see.

Or he with his hidden secret tech of the day.

But now he is home and Green and Gold vertical slit eyes shine with joy.

He is back, back, in a strange language they all seem to say.

Old body tired he almost falls as tails twist and block his way.

Chuckling to himself for in his mind he is still young and nimble as the wind.

Not like this body of old driftwood that across to many distant seas has been.

From a pocket on in his oh so worn clothes, he take out a small stone picked up, on the not quite Ley

It is cold to touch even in this hot night, I am special it seems to say.

Holding it up and with a sigh. I swear by Air, Land and Sea.

The Fae did not leave us as all believe, but have turned.

And now it's Cats that they all truly appear to be.

Moon Rising

TDK / The Druid King

Copyright George King July 22, 2013

Morgania Maid Maven

The Lady of Shalott is an 1888 painting by the English Pre-Raphaelitepainter John William Waterhouse.

Morgania Maid Maven
"
The Gull and the Raven flew with Morgania Maid Maven.

As she rode down the shore along the emerald green Sea.

A Goddess of Power Trice Land Air and Sea.

Hard Men's hearts weep at the sight of her hair blowing in the Wind.

And fell dumbstruck to the ground, for to touch her was highest of Sin.

Women walked miles in path horses hoofs hoping to find a hair from sweet Head

For Woven into flax, it was said to bring Magick in Bed,

Each generation claims they saw her though she should be so long Dead.

Its True Cawed the Raven the Gull was there Too.

Sand slips through my fingers like Time in the Glass.

As I remember the Love of a long long loss Lass."


"Noon Rising Sun across the Sea cast.

Death and memories, I am frozen in a moment that pain will not let Pass

For a Bard role's I never meant to be my last Task

But am given the peacocks long quell and tongue ink of the wind.

On Fire staff, I lean heavy as Sea's Roar brings sounds of old battles I not Win.

Yet walked away from, last living covered in  Dark Magick's crimson Sin.

 Morgania Maid Maven I will always see you on the shore riding the Sea's Salt Wind."

TDK

(c) July 19, 2013 George King (Except Images).

Hail wise Druids a Boon I do beg. Just came from sleep's Fairy Hill
With words in the mind forcing me to to write the bitter sweet rhyme.
Can anyone tell me if matches in anyway any tale of the long dead Bards told.
For in works Erin I am not even begin deep.

Waning with the Moon: In stone cold ink

Sadly after reading thousands of lines of Facebook and other Social networks comments on the field of Druids and its many branches and twigs and leaves.

I find myself in a strange seemly GMO created forest, that is nothing like what resonates with my Oversoul or the Ancient Tree as I know it.

Yes there is wisdom, kindness, and caring among the many strange creatures I have meet.  Pretty Bells, nice Robes, and even a bit of Civis goodness scattered round. But what of the Adder and the Ley of the Cole-Men and of the first.

I find a Wolf or two an honored Bard here and there.  Yes these are of old Druid Blue.

But the keeper of the Egg has  not been found,  and the Moot but a hole in the ground. Perhaps a Pool for all to sit round.

I know these words to all almost make no rhyme
And the death of the last Bard is a old old crime.

But Summer is here
And yet winter comes.

The Four Ill Winds Blow
Baking Sun and Freezing snow.

So if you find me missing more.
Just look to the Moon.

The Portal of Time
Henge Key to the Rhyme

The Dark ones here.
The Druids are out of Time.

Bring Clan close
Close the Door

Spell the Mist
And perhaps we will meet in evermore.

The Druid King
Walker of the Ley

Now but a simple Adder
Washed ashore by the seas of Time.

Tower Babel is rebuild
But few to Climb
Or put hand to the Hilt.

Bury the Hearth Stone
In the Dark Quilt.

Should you see the Old Druid
That walks with a tilt

Smile, look quick away.
For the life of a Slave
Gets to live another day.

Worry not if this seems in Code
Stand on the Dolmens Node

Its just Raw Awen in Imbas True.




TDK

(c) George King