A Little Tale

Posted on by estlh
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Inspiration can come at any time, and in any place, which is why I never go anywhere without a notebook. I also have a transcribing app on my phone so I can speak ideas into it while I’m on the go. That proved quite useful last week when inspiration struck on the walk to work. It was only 2 lines at the time, but I spoke them into my phone and forgot about them, until today. As the kids are now back at school this is the first day I have had to myself in a while, so I have got out my notebooks and phone to look at what I have scribbled down in the last few weeks, and see what I can do with any of it.

The two lines that came to me on the way to work last week have evolved into the following.

The moral of my little tale I hope to be made clear
I tell it as the sun descends as night is drawing near.
I do not wish to cause a fright, but wish it to be known
That anywhere you go round here you’re never quite alone.

So heed my warning, heed it well, hear now all I say
Or you may never see again the brilliant light of day.
The all pervading presence of the life from days gone by
Will not allow the innocent to pass unhindered nigh

I speak of old and ancient tales that logic would decry.
The stuff of myths and legends long unseen by living eye
Of creatures from an evil hand with purposes so bleak
Of voices from enshrouded mouths, that wail and howl and shriek

Let none here mesmerise you, they seek to captivate
To lure you in until you find, retreat is now too late
So turn around, take no more steps along this errant path
Flee, make haste, take flight unto the warmth of home and hearth

The moral of my little tale, I pray has been made clear
I tell it as my hope descends, my end fast drawing near.

Rhiannon

Posted on by estlh

A friend on Facebook recently posted a picture of a bottle of Welsh whisky named Rhiannon. Produced by Penderyn in the Cynon Valley, it is part of their Icon’s of Wales range of single malts which celebrates people, events and milestones that are significant to Wales. Rhiannon means Great Queen, and she features in the Mabinogion – a collection of early Welsh literature, believed to be stories passed down by word of mouth for many generations before being written down.

This picture sparked a memory. Several years ago, before I was confident enough to let anyone read anything I had written, my husband signed me up for a local writing group. We had different tasks to do for each meeting, which I enjoyed, and then we got to read what we had written to the group, which I did not enjoy. At first I was so worried about reading out my work that I barely listened to the words read out by those before me, but when it came to my turn I was amazed by the positive feedback I got and slowly over the following months my confidence grew. Unfortunately the group was short lived, but I will be forever grateful for it, and for the self-belief it fostered.

One of the tasks we were given in the group was to write a ballad to tell a story – either one we already knew or one of our own creation. I chose to base mine (loosely) on the story of Rhiannon and Pwyll in the Mabinogion. I had forgotten all about my ballad until I saw the whisky on Facebook, which prompted me to go looking for my writing group notebook. As I tend to do with old poems I find, I have tweaked this a little, but it is mostly as I wrote it originally for the writing group.

The Ballad of Rhiannon and Pwyll

Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed, a brave and fearless man,
Went forth to do battle with the evil King Hafgan.
Returning home victorious he planned to have a feast,
Eating, drinking, dancing for the next 3 days at least!

But looking from his window, a maiden he did spy, 
In splendid golden robes, on a white horse riding by
“Who is yonder beauty?” he demanded of his men
But not one could answer him and so he ordered them

“Back up on your horses men, to follow where she goes.
On him who finds out who she is rewards I will bestow.”
But no matter how they rode, their efforts were in vain
For her horse bore an enchantment so no one on her could gain

Now Pwyll could bear to watch no more as each man left the chase
He jumped upon his trusty steed and after her he raced.
But e’en he could not catch her up, so called after her horse,
“Fair maiden, for the sake of love, please stop!” she said “Of course.”

“Please let me know your name” said Pwyll “and what your business here”
“Rhiannon is my name” said she “my business is quite clear;
To have you fall in love with me and take me for your bride.
In searching for my handsome prince I’ve travelled far and wide.

“So let us set a date at once and one twelve month from now
With merriment and feasting, to you I’ll pledge my vow”
Hence one year to the day they met the two off them were wed
So let us leave our tale here whilst the lovers off to bed.

Star

Posted on by estlh

Sometimes, it doesn’t matter how hard you try . . .

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
I wanted to embrace it
And clutch it to my heart
I tried so hard to grab it
I sought to make it mine
My hands outstretched, my fingers
In it’s beams I did entwine
But as I tugged I realised
The mistake that I had made
It’s burning heat seared through my flesh
And made me much afraid

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
I wanted to embrace it
And clutch it to my heart
With both my hands I grasped it
This glowing orb of joy
My arms grew weak, the might of it
I knew would me destroy
I let it slip from twixt my hands
For I am not that strong
And further heavenward it rolled
And took my dreams along

There was a star I reached for
I stretched my arms so far
My failure to possess it
Will ever break my heart

Fog

Posted on by estlh

Fog. It is not something we see an awful lot of. I always find it a little exciting when we do – it lends an air of mystery to even familiar places. There’s a certain romanticism to it too, conjuring up images of misty moors and half hidden landscapes obscured by fluffy whiteness.
Brain fog, on the other hand is ghastly. Unfortunately it is all too common a symptom of depression and can be horribly debilitating.
At the moment I’m finding it so hard to write. Impossible even. It kind of feels like that part of my brain has been switched off. I can only barely deal with the factual and any sort of creativity is just beyond me. I think this may be down to a medication ‘blip’, meaning I am having to go through the initial side effects that I got when I first started taking it. I know that it will settle down in a few weeks but in the meantime I am frustrated, headachey, struggling with blurry vision and can not get my foggy brain to do anything useful despite my endeavours. I am annoyed that I have not been able to post anything for so long, so I have been looking back through my old stuff and thought I’d post some old poems. Hopefully the fog will clear soon and I can get back to writing some new stuff.

The silent depths of very night.
That’s how it was when first you came to me.
Out of the shadows into the silver patch of
moonlight on my carpet.
You startled me
I had thought of being alone,
but instead you were here –
an intruder on my solitude.
The anger flash in my eyes yelled
‘Do not disturb!’
The threads of my thought so fragile
I feared a misplaced word may chafe or tear.

So you sat there silent
in the still of very night
and when the morning sun crept stealth-like
through the darkness
I sent you out to capture for me
the dawn chorus.

Rainbow

Posted on by estlh 
I have captured myself in a rainbow 
 I have wrapped it around me so tight
 I have let all it's power pervade me 
 And now I am bursting with light.
 The out play of infinite colours 
 Releases the brightest of dreams
 A world of outrageous existence 
 Where nothing is quite what it seems.

 I have made me a bed of a raincloud
 I have wrapped it around me so tight
 I have let all it's tears wash right through me
 My stains are now all lily white.
 I arise from this absolving slumber
 Awash with the joy of new birth
 And I run from the heights to the oceans 
 Stretch my arms out, embracing the earth.

 I have swallowed the sound of the thunder.
 I have taken it's might for my voice 
 I have tasted this sonorous morsel
 Now all men will hear me rejoice.
 For my voice now has power to move mountains
 Watch as I sing and they shake 
 If I bow down my head to your ear
 One whisper and how you will quake.

 But these powers I now have were not given
 I stole them away - not for fun
 I wanted to win your affection
 For you are my bright shining sun
 So I stand now with boldness before you
 My splendour displayed for your view
 One word, then you turn and I crumble.
 I'm no match for the power that is you.

Spring clean

Posted on by estlh

The sun outside is shining brightly in the clear blue sky. A bit of sunshine always boosts my mood, and somehow I feel more awake and enlivened on a sunny day. As I sit here though, I am also aware how the sun shows up all the dust – shining into all the shadows and revealing what had previously been hidden. Catching the dancing specks in the beam of light through the window. Time for a spot of spring cleaning I feel, but not just in the physical sense. It it time to take a look at those things that lurk in the shadows of my conscience. The things that chip away at my confidence and steal my contentment. Things whose prescence I am largely unaware of, even if their effects are felt all too painfully. Time to do what I can to sweep them all out and get rid!

Vernal

 It is time to brush off the cobwebs 
 To throw wide open the door 
 It is time to clear out the rubbish 
 And sweep up the dust from the floor.

 As we purge of what is now stagnant 
 And bid past remains an adieu 
 We turn from the comforts of winter
 And look to beginning anew.

 It is time to step out of the darkness 
 And know we are where we belong 
 It is time to recapture our freedom
 To rise up and sing our new song.

Just get on with it!

Posted on by estlh

I am starting to realise more and more, that I am my own worst enemy. I have had issues with self confidence/ self doubt for most of my life, but i am only now realising how much I have allowed these to control and restrict me. For a long time I was confused with confidence. I felt almost guilty if I thought I was good at something, as though I thought it was not up to me to decide what I was good at – I had to wait until somebody else told me I had done something well or that they liked something I had written or created, and even then I would be coy and dismissive of compliments. I thought I was being humble, but this is not humility. I have a book on my bookshelf entitled ‘A Humble Confidence’. Although it is years since I read the book, it has taken until now for me to really grasp what it says, and to truely understand it. A humble confidence might initially sound like a contradiction, but in truth it is what we all need. Humility is not false modesty. It is not being self-effacing, or self-doubting. To be truely humble means to have a realistic appreciation, not just of your weaknesses, but also your great strengths. This allows us to use our gifts and talents in amazing ways, but also to step aside and let someone else to the fore when they are better suited to what is required. It enables us to do this without feeling we are in any way lacking or failing. We are all unique. We are all gifted are competent in different areas. We can all do incredible things, if we just get on with it!

I have put it off too long. 
 Allowed myself to be shackled by a lack of self belief.
 But if this is what I want then I must step out
 Take the risk and expose myself
 To the possibility of ridicule as well as the possibility of success.
 Yet these bounds are tight and as I strain against them i entangle myself
 It is too easy to give up, to just stop struggling against
 These constraints of my own creation.
 But only I can bring them down.
 I alone have the power to crumple and destroy them
 If I am not too afraid to use it.