Sirens Enchanted Song: 2007

Friday, October 26, 2007

Faeries far away
fly from here to there
Keeping watch over
The night sky's air.
Up high in the sky
They dance and sing all night
Keeping watch over
The night...

What is a Faerie?

Faerie : from the Latin term for "fate" (fata), faeries (or fairies) are a "host of supernatural beings and spirits who occupy a limbo between earth and heaven" (Guiley). This is in recognition of the skill faeries had in predicting and even controlling human destiny. Faeries could be either good or evil creatures, and at various points in history have been confused with witches and demons.

The Dance of Scotland Humpback
A man who was a hump-back once met the fairies dancing, and danced with their queen; and he sang with them, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday," so well that they took off his hump, and he returned home a straight-bodied man.Then a tailor went past the same place, and was also admitted by the fairies to their dance. He caught the fairy queen by the waist, and she resented his familiarity. And in singing he added "Thursday" to their song and spoilt it. To pay the tailor for his rudeness and ill manners, the dancers took up the hump they had just removed from the first man and clapped it on his back, and the conceited fellow went home a hump-back.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Poems to Life

Check out my boyfriends poetry for inspiration on all types and walks of life, whether it be of love, hate or happiness. Poems are of peoples inner thoughts and feelings and often correspond with others. He has a beautiful tallent with words and has wrote some amazing pieces. If you would like to copy one just message him he would sure enough let you. I am a hundred percent certain you will enjoy them as much as I do. He is at http://www.johnspoetrypad01.blogspot.com/ please check him out.

A scary Faery Tale

Up the airy mountain Down the rushy glen, We dare n't go a-hunting, For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather.
Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake.

High on the hill-top The old King sits; He is now so old and gray He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music, On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen, Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back Between the night and morrow; They thought she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake, On a bed of flag leaves, Watching till she wake.

By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig them up in spite? He shall find the thornies set In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain Down the rushy glen, We dare n't go a-hunting, For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather.