If Found...

MISSING

Last seen three weeks ago mooching around my mind, sniffing at an unfinished poem.

Small, often invisible, and with a tendency to wander off during times of self-doubt.

Has previously been responsible for several ideas.

Invaluable to creative types.

If found, please return to the poet who can’t write.

*     *     *

Lara

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The Fairy Pool

 by Cerridwen Lee 

 This week’s theme is “Inspirational Ideas” Of course this got me thinking about what inspires mankind. The power of literature, music, art is an obvious one. They are ever-changing, influential and prominent in all cultures around the world and express the emotions that make up the complex human being. Politics is another. The elections in America are causing chaos at the moment. Politics has always been quick to bring me to anger, however, so I wouldn’t call it inspiring for me personally.

I’m going to get down to my real point. Although such things as art and politics are popular choices for inspiration, I’ve always looked towards mankind itself for inspiration. The human race are such curious creatures, and I’ve always been fascinated and horrified by our actions. Many history and psychology books adorn my shelves, accompanied by thick old books of mythology and legends from an array of different cultures. The human mind is incredible, and it is shown for me in not just our actions, but through the things we dream up such as myths and legends and the unseen things we fancy creep in the shadows. Our fascination with the unseen inspires me. I mean, you have got to have a few questions unanswered, don’t you?

This brings me swiftly onto the poem I wrote the other week. I was inspired by a little pool in my local woodland that is tucked away into the depths, hidden by a fallen oak and two large willow trees. I found it two years ago on one of my nature rambles, and regularly visit, perched upon the fallen oak tree gazing at it. There is something mystical about this pond, which led me to call it  “the fairy pool” I can imagine them sitting by it, as I do, singing and playing music that gets lost in the cold winter winds whistling through the trees. Fairies, or the fey folk, can be viewed in many differing ways; cute and small, sat on a buttercup or dancing delicately round a mushroom ring. I view them in an open-minded respectful manner. If they were to exist, I believe they’d be more a part of the earth itself and have been since it began. Inspired by them and the nature around me that day, I began to think of mankind’s wrongs. This poem is a “Rondeau”, an old French lyric form I have been experimenting with.

The Fairy Pool – RONDEAU

The fairy pool lays perilous and deep

Where the fey folk both chance to dance and weep

Hidden, sunk, dark within the woodlands rule

Dare to venture in and you are a fool

You may become victim to those that creep

The silver waters swell, ripple and seep

Into the rich soil that the fey folk reap

With not so much help as one metal tool

The Fairy Pool

In modern world magic they strive to keep

Avoiding these humans that are so cheap

Disillusion and a streak of sharp cruel

Mankind care for nothing but moneys fuel

Corruption still building, poisonous world

The Fairy Pool

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Dave's Dream

Tomorrow, when the USA finally choose their next president, one man will become the most powerful in the world. It might remain as Obama, it could be Morman Mitt, either way there will be some powerful decisions to make so I urge all Americans that happen upon this blog not to elect a clown.

Here in the UK, we did just that. We’ve somehow come to the decision that a silver spooned, Tory-bred horse was the man for the job- a man named Dave. Now you may or may not have seen the 1988 Oscar nominated documentary about Bikini Atoll. You may or may not be aware that there was an atomic bomb tested there. You may or may not know that islanders were shifted from their villages, families and communities broken up and refused re-admission to their homeland for well over forty years.  You are probably not aware that the plane dropping the bomb had Dave’s Dream written on the back of it, something I thought too good an idea to miss.

This morning then, with the news that Kensington and Chelsea councils have relocated council tenants as far as Manchester as a result of cuts, I figured the poem needed to be written. It seems we’re all a victim of something these days and for lasting devastation, 40 years could be a quick turnaround for some of the mess being made. This week’s theme is inspirational ideas,  one of which you’ll agree, is a man named Dave.

Dave’s Dream

Gather the UN ambassadors

Dave’s dream is up in the skies

We are all to be soon relocated

Shifted on with a tear in our eyes.

Dave’s dream is to move us from comfort

Dave’s dream drives the poor from their homes

Dave’s dream is just all about rich folks

If he could he would send in the drones.

Dave’s dream doesn’t consider carnage

Dave’s dream doesn’t rest in the night

Dave’s dream has us begging for poll booths

Dave’s dream must be stopped, take the fight.

Thanks for reading,
S.

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