Twitter Fragments

I'm doing a thing on twitter where we post a small poem (under 140 characters) Some people do haiku, but I tend towards fragmentary three line verse
twitter @gercelt

also check out @twitlaureate, or search #poetry for more on poetry on twitter

Twitter Fragments


i
Silent house, paused between sleep and wake
and I the ghost, that passes in that space
part guardian, part spectre at the feast.


ii
Cold morning grey competes with duvet warmth
sounds of stirring city siren-calling me to work
summer, in the town beside the sea

iii
Dublin is back in the bosom of winter,
grey skies reflected in slick pavement puddles,
grimly chilled by driving rain

iv
Dead weight of afternoon, pressing down,
keeping me at my desk
oh for the freedom that came with summers past!

1.

Where Dwell The Gods?

A comic offering from several years ago; part of a bantering exchange on the PPP site prior to it's apocolyptic crash. I was glad to find it; it reminded me of some good mates sadly long since moved on and some good times.

It's in a similar vein to "The Committee for the Formation of a Pagan Creation Theory"


Where Dwell The Gods?


'Where o! where do the gods reside?
the opinions are many, the theories divide
The Norse have Asgard, way up high
the Mediterraneans look to the sky,
Mount Olympus is a "des res," all will agree
where good Greek gods go, to relax by the sea:
we Celts have the Otherworlds, Tir Taingiri
while Manannán rules the wide western sea.
So what do they put on their RSVP?
what postal code, or locality?
are they in heaven or are they in hell
where do the gods of our nations dwell?
I've read all the theories, short daft and long
and I'm here to tell you they're all bloody wrong!
I know the secret, the homes of the gods -
they live next to me the noisy auld sods!

There's Thor with his hammer, banging away
the noise of his thunderstick booming all day.
Tthere's Aengus Óg in his "bachelor pad"
a man of his age, it's really quite sad.
Next Door but one, is the frog-god Hekat
and Diana the Huntress, she shot next door's cat.
I'm kept up each Friday by the parties next door
where a certain Adonis relives days of yore.
The poker game held just across the road:
guests wearing togas, helmets or woad!
where Zhu Rong, and Shongo and Yatikka Taccu
came to blows with Umvelinqangi, Belanus and Wu!
the Gardai when they came, were slightly perplexed
(there's not many cells can hold gods who are vexed)

...so they gave them a caution, and tried to look tough
while Hora-galles kept shouting "C’mon ya big puffs!"
The neighbours are moving, the prices are down
the gods of all nations have invaded our town;
the residents committee is in complete disarray
since the incident with the flying horse at the last open day.
An Morrigiu is sitting in my garden right now
talking with what appears to be half woman - half cow
The three fates sit spinning and I don't like the way
they looked at me and went ""Snip, snip, whayhay!"
O where do the gods of the world dwell?
on my road, gods help me! I'm moving to HELL!'

1.

PPP - Summer Solstice Edition taking submissions

For details on how to submit
read here

Non Members - submit to editors@paganpoetrypages.com


Themes: Well it's the summer solstice so that's one :) Summer, heat, the Sidhe, observing religious events, what astrological events mean to us....
Poems, articles, journals, prose all welcome!!

1.

Suburban Summer

The city lying in a daze
quieter than at midnight
rocked gently in a haze
of shimmering on black tarmac -
pavement hot to barefoot touch.

Sun glinting on shining glass
in spiralling reflection,
casting prisms on the grass
of gardens lulled by bee and mower
the infinity of suburban summer.

pottering in the garden shed
Tiny stirrings of family life
children still have to be fed -
the alluring sound of icecream van
the counterpoint to kitchen smells

Days too perfect in memory
and endless enigma of nostalgia
painful in unattainability;
yet there have been skies this blue
and hours of dreaming peace.

1.