O’ flora be settled,
in ringlets of scarlet and three.
“Dearg, dearg
a chuisle, a chroí.”
I’m told that the roses
are dancing here
both wild and free.
Bláthnaid sways like the blooms
in the mound of Brí Léith.
Calling and brooding o’, swiftly
the roses look out for thee.
The Red Branch of Ulster,
caught and plucked the little flower.
Blushing by the sleeve,
“Dearg, dearg
a chuisle, a chroí.”
And on his back,
a cauldron of red bronze.
The birds in his girdle,
and the cows at his side.
The rose in his arms,
and a heart in his chest.
“Dearg, dearg
a chuisle, a chroí.”
From the cauldron of plenty,
white, came thrice a mooing calf.
the milk of thirty cows
now flecked--
Yes, stains the Finglas river.
Bláthnaid was false
aye, for to bear glassy thorns.
She invited war and lust, to kill
a hundred men or more
to roll and to cry in the mud.
A Red Branch named Cu Roi--
Yes, his skull 'n face
dance severed
in the flame of a fortress seiged.
And a raven spaes,
from his mantle gray.
In Cenn Bera, the ribs of the flower
are shot backwards into the stones.
Delivered in the hands of a poet,
for she was grievous
to betray her husband.
Dearg, dearg
a chuisle, a chroí.
Smashed and bloody,
where the roses can feed.
Author notes
Art is "Wild Rose" by Teri Jo Headman
If you pronounce the Gaelic right, this poem actually rhymes in several passages...it's been eons since I ever thought of rhyming poetry, haha.
If you take out the spaces it comes out to about 40 lines. (Contest rules)
I was really trying to fit as much as the story of "Tragic Death of Cu Roi" into it...but 40 is pushing it.
Bláthnaid is pronouced (Blaw-nid)
(Blathnat, same name different spelling)
“Dearg, dearg
a chuisle, a chroí.”
(jarrig, jarrig
ah kwish-la, ah cree)
means,
"Red, red
my pulse, my heart"
Works with love and roses as given to my by the prompt. I also wanted the rhythm in the Gealic to mimic the beating of a heart but that may be only something I understand.
The basic mythology is,
Bláthnaid is daughter of the faerie king and is one day stolen by Cu Roi (a warrior of the Red Branch of Ulster) along with three cows, the birds, and the cauldron of plenty. (A cauldron that magically makes what ever desired food appear...at least in several stories about it) The two of them fall in love but a man wants revenge on Cu Roi and woos Bláthnaid. She poors milk into the river and tricks Cu Roi. A fight breaks out in the castle and seveal men, including Cu Roi are killed. Bláthnaid regrets all that has happened and one of Cu Roi's poets named Ferchertne rushes at her and they both fall off the cliff at Cenn Bera where they die on the rocks below.
In a list
A contest entry
- Celtic Beauty~Knotting Goddess to A Wildflower by Blue Rew.
1037 points, ended March 22, 8 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 16 of 16
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A very beautiful poem that made me feel sad...
The story you told through poetry is one that
makes me want to grow-up and be a poet like you.
So glad my mommy gave you gold. Mila
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Thank you so much for the kind comments.
I'm very proud and thankful of that gold too, haha.
I have no doubt that you are a fine writer as well.
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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Congrats on your Gold, sweetie
I told you, you had nothing to worry about. 
Fantastic and totally deserving of such an honor.
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Hahaha, thank you so much. I feel almost silly now. I always feel that way about my contest entries though...for some reason I don't about the other poems I write.
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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Oh gosh I had heard this tale so long ago from the lap of a great grandmother who was Irish..this is just wonderful hun, I can't wait to get to my homeland next month and feel the magic that has always called me there.
dia dhuit ma chara C
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That's exciting! I heard lots of stories from my grandparents' laps. (My parents too) What part are you going to? In a few years I'm going back to Cork.
Go raibh maith agat, mo chara!
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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I was born in Australia but my great grandmother and grandfather were Belfast born, this is the first time I have had a chance to go and see what they used to tell me about when I was a child, they taught me songs (mostly rebel lol) and I so want to walk the streets that they did. C
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That's great! (The rebel songs too, haha!) I haven't remembered much of Cork because we came to the States when I was really little. So I've always wanted to go there. I'd love to live there again but I have to see where my life here in the USA comes in. Ireland means the world to me but my life is here right now.
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You will go back eventually I am sure, I think Ireland sings to us and wants us back there somehow it has always been that way for me but then my mother told me I was a little rebel so I should fit right in lol
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Wow
Good gracious woman you are fine poet, so full of pure talent
I just loved this poem at first I thought it was about a man bringing gifts for a woman in a castle
Thanks for the author notes
Splendidly written indeed, your rhyme and rhythm is exellent.
Be blessed in all you ever do.
Tony
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Hahaha, thank you so much. There's a reason I write all those author notes!
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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I love everything about this piece.
Even the red chosen as your background is perfect.
These words seemed to cast a spell
She invited war and lust, to kill
a hundred men or more
to roll and to cry in the mud.
A Red Branch named Cu Roi--
Yes, his skull 'n face
dance severed
in the flame of a fortress seiged.
And a raven spaes,
from his mantle gray.
WOW!
Magnificent pen.
Love always,
jin
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Thank you so much for the comment and the add. And it took me forever to get that shade of red, haha!
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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To think you could doubt this entry, even in the slightest, is beyond me. This is absolutely gorgeous and stands tall and proud, with beautiful language, song, and imagery. You have no worries. It's magnificent. Good luck to you.
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Go raibh maigh agat, mo chara.
It means a lot to me. I like how this poem turned out actually...I'm just not sure it's exactly what I had in mind when I began.
Síochán leat
~Mairéad~
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Here is your goddess/flower
8-BLATHNAT~FLOWER~WILD ROSE
Oh, my pulse, my heart....
I would have never dreamed something so magical
would enter this theme, yet here it is.
The intertwining of Gaelic with the drenching of colour mesmerize me. Wild roses were apparent all through as you took us to the crossroads of Blathnat. I have found a new addition to my masterpieces list. Blue
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