Following the Awen, the flowing spirit of inspiration

EISTEDDFOD

Eisteddfod, for the groves adopting this form of celebration, follows the formal ritual of Druidry and is the party bit of the festival. Here, all who have taken part are invited to share the harvest of their personal inspiration, through music, storytelling, poetry, dance or other form of creative expression. Each member of the grove is invited to bring a contribution for the Eisteddfod - read a poem, tell a story, play or sing music - whether it be their own work or simply something that has inspired them. But nobody is put on the spot and asked to deliver when the time comes. It's up to each to share what they will, if they will and, if not, simply to observe and enjoy and, if they will, join in.

Below are a few works from grove members and friends. Submissions are invited for this area of the website, including sound files.

E-mail the Wight Druids address:
scribe@wightdruids.co.uk

MUSIC:
Celtic Dance
Druid Vow
by Malcolm Brown
Website: http://www.myspace.com/mecbrown

PHOTOGRAPHY
by Mary-Ann
Photography by Mary-Ann

Trinity Labyrinth, a beach installation by Eva Wolfram. Click on the picture to visit her website.

Beginnings
(Reflections on a tentative start on the Druid path).
Lights on the water reflect on the plough
When do we begin?
Footprints in damp earth, buds blossom now
Where do we begin?
The fire and the maiden, the smoke and the sap
How do we begin?
Circle of water, sea and sky's trap
Should we begin?
The harvest and first loaf, light and earth wed
Who should begin?
From wheatsheaf to far horizon we're led
Now do we begin?
Herbs in the cauldron, a yew tree bower
Can we still begin?
The lights grow cold with darkness's power
Soon, now we may begin.
- Blue

This Empty Page
(A Midwinter muse).
So long seems this winter
world of snow before me now
bone coldscape of hardened flake
unmarked by sullying print of paw

Whiteout without and so
within awaiting east wind's
first biting breath to thaw
the frost-locked flood to wash
the colour in tumbling streams
of chaos across this empty page

Below ground's virgin canopy
a stir of movement signs all life renewing,
growing first in the richwarm dark,
coiling to burst in fountains of beauty
when the white tide turns
on the wheel of the year of men

And the world waits
wondering watching
for the first sprouting tip
to blast a breach in this glassy snowscape,
glistening listening as if to hear
from where the first breath comes

Awen rising
and in the power of her song
enchanted glades
will fill and flourish
and fruits flood forth
on bending boughs
as beauty's bounty
transforms as if forever
this empty page
to a living thing
- Blue

(Click on the title of the above poem to hear a reading)

• More of my stuff at www.agored.demon.co.uk/Workshop.html