Praise Poem

Hello everyone! Today, I am posting my first exercise from my studies. It has taken some time, but I have gradually grown more structured in my work toward my goals, and I finally have some results, however meagre.

As I have previously stated, I am following a set training guide for my bardic studies, and one of the first tasks given is to compose a poem in praise of something that you admire or gain inspiration from. This praise poem will then be recited everyday, a bit like a prayer, as a reminder of what you are working for as an anruth (bard in training) and to serve as daily inspiration and empowerment.

As a bit of background, I believe I mentioned once before that I have tried my hand at this particular study course once, and through a lack of focus, I fell off the path. I did, however manage to create a praise poem, though I was never satisfied with it. I believe that I had previously just made it an exercise and didn't allow the poem to come from the heart. It was empty, and also overly complicated.

This time, I had a clearer idea of what I wanted to do. However, I had still encountered some trouble. I had intended to make a poem in praise of Awen/Imbas/the Holy Spirit, itself, and although I did get at least one stanza completed, it didn't seem to be going anywhere after that. I started listing images that I associate with Awen to see if I could come up with any buidling blocks for more poetry, but nothing I thought of would fit together. It was a bit like having several pieces to a puzzle, but realizing that none of them fit together.

Last night, I said a little prayer asking for some help with my creation. Low and behold, if I wasn't answered! After my prayer and some relaxed meditation, I was struck with the gift of inspiration. I suddenly remembered a poem that I had read made by Amergin. Amergin was the earliest and, I believe, greatest of the Irish bards. There are a number of poems attributed to him, and Imbas (Awen) brought to my mind one of them:

"I seek the land of Ireland.
Forceful is the fruitful sea,
Fruitful the serried mountains,
Serried the showery woods,
Showery the cascade of rivers,
Cascaded the tributaries of lakes,
Tributaried the well of hills,
Welling the people of gatherings,
Gathering of Tara's king,
Tara, hill of tribes,
Tribes of Mil's people,
Mil's ships and galleys,
Galleys of mighty Eire,
Eire, mighty and green.
A crafty incantation,
Craftiness of Bres's wives,
Bres, of Buaigne's wives,
Great Lady Eire:
Eremon harried her,
Ir and Eber sought for her-
I seek the land of Ireland."

Marvelous. I love this poem. After it being brought to my mind, I was struck my its similarity to a section of another poem that is part of a tale called "The Dialogue of the Two Sages".

In this story, two bards, one older and experienced, and the other being young, but very talented, have a bit of a "poet's duel", one might say. The younger bard had laid claim to the older bard's position, and a battle of wits ensues, in the form of a sort of question and answer session. One would ask the other a question and the other was expected to answer, in true bardic style, in verse-form. The idea being, whichever of the two answered their questions in the most eloquent, but also most wise and insightful, manner would be named the greater bard. Ultimately, it ends in a draw and the two come to greatly admire each other's skill and wisdom.

One section of the tale, however, is very similar, in terms of its poetic form, to the poem by Amergin. Ferchertne, the elder bard, asks Nede, the young talent, whose son he is, to which Nede answers:

"Not hard to answer: I am son of Poetry,
Poetry son of Scrutiny,
Scrutiny son of Meditation,
Meditation son of Lore,
Lore son of Enquiry,
Enquiry son of Investigation,
Investigation son of Great-Knowledge,
Great-Knowledge son of Great-Sense,
Great-Sense son of Understanding,
Understanding son of Wisdom,
Wisdom, son of the three gods of Poetry."

You can see that the form is similar to Amergin's Invocation. The end of a line serves as the beginning of the next line.

All of this passed through my mind within a minutes time. It was then that I had an idea for a praise poem that was completely different from the one I had been working on. So, after some thought, I managed to create what I had been striving toward. It isn't a compliacted poem, in form, and it isn't very long, but here it is, nonetheless. My praise poem:



"God within my soul,
My soul within myself,
Myself within my family,
My family within humanity,
Humanity within the Earth,
Earth within Creation,
Creation within God."

Seven lines. Each line ending with the word starting the next line. Simple, but elegant. Short, but profound. This is my praise poem.

I do not mean to say that I wont potentially seek to improve it, because it certainly isn't anything special. It could be improved upon. I am not trying to brag about my work. That, I think, would be crass and ignorant. However, it is one of my first real accomplishments as an anruth, and, finally, I have made a praise poem that I am satisfied with.

My First Bard Poem

Hello! I have one more post for today: my very first bard poem! Yes, as it turns out, I do more than just write about bards. I hope to have at least one poem done every month.
Onto the show! This is a poem written to another bard inspiration of mine: Taliesin. Taliesin was a semi-mythological figure who is often regarded as the greatest bard who ever lived. Unfortunately, he was Welsh, not Irish. Haha, of course there is nothing wrong with the Welsh. They are Celts too! Anyway, this is a poem written as though I were talking with Taliesin.
“Who were you?
You from long ago
You have lived to meet my ears
To fire my head
To move my heart
When can we speak?
Shall it be on those green paths
Upon which tread the feet of the wise?
Shall it instead be in the golden fields eternal?
Shall it be the land of the Spirit
Our mutual destination and common muse?
I am eager
My fingers scratch and my mind churns
Both want to find your approval
Please smile on me when I see you”
That is all. It has no title, and hasn’t been edited yet. Just a pure, unrefined gift from Awen. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

The Inspiration of Brighid

The Song of Wandering Aengus
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
-By William Butler Yeats

Hello all! It has been a couple of weeks since my last post. Well, I haven’t forgotten about my little corner of the web. I have been on vacation and have thus lacked the focus needed to write anything. I am back now, however, and ready to begin anew. I even have another post ready after this! Before jumping ahead of myself, though, I should discuss today’s topic.
The above poem is by William Butler Years, a modern Irish filidh (seer-poet/bard).



In it, the speaker describes an encounter with a magical red-headed woman that so enthralls him, he spends the rest of his life looking for her. Any writer could relate to this situation, in a sense. While most haven’t had fish turn into women during their own life-time, it is more the metaphoric sense of the relentless pursuit of inspiration, Yeat’s “fire in the head”. Writers live off of their inspiration, after all, so one could easily see how the pursuit of the very fuel of writing could be just as obsessive as Yeats’s pursuit of the red-headed woman.

To the traditional bard, though, this poem holds even deeper meaning. The red-headed woman doesn’t just represent inspiration; she actually IS Imbas or Awen taken form. This is no mistake or creative interpretation. The woman in the poem fits the description of Brighid, the Celtic goddess of healing, crafting (especially blacksmithing), and poetry. A poetry goddess. Brighid would have been a provider of Awen, or perhaps even Awen herself.



Brighid is described as having fiery red hair, like the fires of the forge that she is associated with. Her eyes were a striking blue, like the clearest blue sky; the same color of the bardic robe or cloak. While she was undeniably beautiful, she was not a love or fertility goddess, like Aphrodite was to the Greeks. She was not to be lusted after. However, her favor was most certainly sought after, especially by the ancient bards. The young bard in training, or Anruth, must be careful, though. Brighid was to be well respected. Some descriptions of her are very graphic, detailing the jawbones and entrails of poets in her hair. Certainly, any writer that has experienced writer’s block can attest to the horrible feeling that can come from inspiration’s gift being withdrawn.

The Celts held for major holidays through the year, now known as the four fire festivals. They are Samhain, which is on October the 31st (the origin of Halloween!), Imbolc on February the 1st, Beltane on May 1st, and Lughnasadh on August 1st. The fire festivals were intimately tied to the turning seasons of the year, but were also connected with different deities. Imbolc was Brighid’s holiday. Imbolc, despite being in one of the coldest months in the year, actually served to mark the beginning of Spring. It coincided with the very earliest signs of Spring that the agricultural Celts would have seen, in particular that the lambs would begin lactating at this time in preparation for their new young. Interestingly enough, milk is often associated with this holiday. Brighid would have been seen as being in charge of caring for these new lambs, as part of her healing aspect.



The festival of Brighid was considered a time for cleansing and purification, and also for new beginnings or initiations. Many bards then and today will often begin their training on Imbolc or at least rededicate themselves to their vocation. Poets, love, care, new beginnings. It is very interesting that our modern St. Valentine’s day is only a few days after Imbolc, and encourages people to rededicate their love to their partner with poems, or at least a cheesy card.

Speaking of Saints, there is a Celtic saint that bears mention in this discussion of the goddess Brighid. Yes, dear readers, the Celts had many more saints besides Patrick. I am actually referring to Saint Brigid!



Look familiar? She should! Many scholars doubt she even existed! It is thought that she may simply be a Christianized version of the older goddess Brighid. It certainly seems that she could be. Brigid is the patron saint of many of the same things that Brighid the goddess had within her domain, including fire, midwifery, and inspiration.

The story that is told of Saint Brigid says that she was born around 450 C.E. and died in 523 C.E.. Legend says her father was a druid and her mother was a Christian. The young girl was taught by the druids, and gained all of their learning, but ultimately chose the faith of her mother. Thus, Brigid became a nun and is actually credited with founding called Cill-Dara, which is the modern town of Kildare, Ireland!

Like any good saint, many stories are told of the miracles and acts of goodness that Brigid performed in her life. One such tale says that once Brigid gave some butter away from her father’s churn to a wandering beggar. Naturally, her father was not pleased and threatened to punish her if she did it again. As luck would have it, another hungry beggar came by and Brigid could not ignore the charity that she felt toward him. Fearing her father’s reaction to her disobedience, she prayed fervently to God. When her father checked on his churn, he found it over-flowing with butter! This was the state of the churn from then on, no matter how much butter Brigid gave to the poor and needy.

Another story tells of her father’s death. Brigid sat at her father’s side while he layed upon his death-bed. While she waited, Brigid silently prayed and began forming a cross out of some brush weeds. Noticing what she was doing, Brigid’s father asked about the cross. She used the completed cross to explain Christ to her father, and he ultimately came to accept Jesus before he died. Even today, people will make a Brigid’s cross and hang it in their home on Saint Brigid’s day, or Candlemass, which is conveniently enough on February 1st, just like Imbolc!



Today, many modern pagans still revere the goddess Brighid and Saint Brigid still has a nunnery devoted to her in Kildare. The Brigid nuns tend a fire in their monastery in honor of Saint Brigid that they never allow to be extinguished. Brigid’s fire.
For me, personally, I am not technically a pagan, so I do not offer prayer or worship to Brighid. Also, though I am a Christian, I do not pray to saints either. I believe that the Creator encompasses all that is and is within us all. I also believe that, instead of saints, the Holy Spirit, Awen, intercedes for us and our prayers. As is said in Romans 8:26, “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don't know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.”

This doesn’t mean that I don’t respect Brighid/Brigid, however. I would hardly write this article if I did not hold her in high regard. I do respect Brighid and Brigid, as the bards through the years have. Brighid the goddess represents all that I strive to attain as a poet. She is that mysterious flash of inspiration that sends you into a furious search for more. I also respect Saint Brigid, as she is a model of Christ-like behavior. Her generosity and willingness to teach and inspire are just like that of her pagan cousin, and should serve as a good example for us all on behavior and spiritual health. Father, thank you for both Brighids, as you have displayed the fullness of your Holy Spirit through both of them.

If you would like to celebrate Brighid or Saint Brigid in your own way, perhaps you might want to have your own Imbolc/Candlemass. One good way would be to light a series of candles (again, fire is sacred to both versions of Brighid) and pray, giving thanks to the Divine (whatever you personally believe that to be!) for the blessings in your life, and to ask for guidance in the coming year. Another good idea is to start your Spring cleaning at this time, beings Imbolc is a time of cleansing. You could even try writing some poetry yourself! Or, perhaps, you may want to try your hand at creating your own Brigid’s cross. Here is a link showing how: http://www.fisheaters.com/stbrigidscross.html

I hope that this has been informative for everyone. As part of my bardic journey, I will dealing very closely with Brighid and Brigid and all that the two represent. Therefore, I felt it necessary to discuss them both here. We will be encountering them again, most certainly.