Welcome to Gaia! ::

Now I try to keep this sort of thing to a minimum, but I want to post this stunning Scottish song that I put on my profile just awhile ago, and you'll see why I had to just by reading it, I think.

The Yew Tree


A mile frae Pentcaitland, on the road to the sea
Stands a yew tree a thousand years old
And the old women swear by the grey o' their hair
That it knows what the future will hold
For the shadows of Scotland stand round it
'Mid the kail and the corn and the kye
All the hopes and the fears of a thousand long years
Under the Lothian sky

My bonnie yew tree,
tell me what did you see

Did you look through the haze o' the lang summer days
Tae the South and the far English border
A' the bonnets o' steel on Flodden's far field
Did they march by your side in good order
Did you ask them the price o' their glory
When you heard the great slaughter begin
For the dust o' their bones would rise up from the stones
To bring tears to the eyes o' the wind

Not once did you speak for the poor and the weak
When the moss-troopers lay in your shade
To count out the plunder and hide frae the thunder
And share out the spoils o' their raid
But you saw the smiles o' the gentry
And the laughter of lords at their gains
When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor
The rich man can keep them in chains

My bonnie yew tree,
tell me what did you see

Did you no' think tae tell when John Knox himsel'
Preached under your branches sae black
To the poor common folk who would lift up the yoke
O' the bishops and priests frae their backs
But you knew the bargain he sold them
And freedom was only one part
For the price o' their souls was a gospel sae cold
It would freeze up the joy in their hearts

And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your wood
That it might be a kindness to fell you
One kiss o' the axe and you're freed frae the racks
O' the sad bloody tales that men tell you
But a wee bird flew out from your branches
And sang out as never before
And the words o' the song were a thousand years long
And to learn them's a long thousand more

Last chorus:
My bonnie yew tree
Tell me what did you see

Storks of Night and Day

Revolving flights,
of days and nights,
may take us in varying rounds,
but he who draws closer to the hub,
finds them passing with leaps and bounds.

He who finds the hub itself,
altogether stays,
the living in the here and now,
is between the spin of nights and days.
So live in what you do,
and die knowing this is true;


Storks fly overhead in the day,
with a bag quite full,
and a little wonder to display.

But ware the stork who's bundle is slack,
in plumage dark,
who's bag is full, when flying back!

The taken path,
is by feathers kissed;
black and white,
means you did exist.

Wow, this place is dead... What a pity!

Well, here's one poem I wrote describing a Miyazaki film I absolutely love! See if you can tell which one it is. smile

As the sun slowly begins to warm the ancient forest, life begins to stir leisurely, warming in the sun’s gentle embrace. Dappled sunlight glimmers on lush emerald foliage and deep russet-brown tree limbs, creating darkly flickering shadows. Gradually, the scent that once smelled of cold, frozen earth becomes a lush bouquet of the scent of flowers peeking out from their delicate petals, greeting the warmth of the sun; and of a heady aroma of freshly turned earth as it slowly loosens under the gaze of the sun. As the earth begins to wake from its nightly slumber, so to does the myriad of life within it. First the birds greet the dawn with their songs of welcome, twittering in anticipation for a new day. Then, unhurriedly, the many other denizens of the forest began to stir as the sun’s heat wakes them from their slumber. A herd of deer amble quietly through, searching for nourishment in the early hours after dawn, the clattering sound of their cloven hooves striking stones contrasting to the soft rustle of moss as it was trod upon. As they pass under the shelter of the massive trees that make their home, the broken sunlight dances over golden tan hides, reflecting the sun’s light in brilliant bronze hues. Then, as the herd slowly marches away, the silent reverberation of their steps fade, only to be replaced by the faint swish of paws gliding over moss and lichen, and the mottled auburn highlights traded in for glowing silver reflections; silent shadows of liquid power . The metallic sheen, soft as moonlight, bounces over the tranquil surface of a nearby pond as the wolf, her cold, steady gaze above even those of the deer that passed through not long ago; kneels down to lap the nourishing water, her devoted sons beside her. The refreshing coolness of the liquid—and its watery tang— refreshes the wolves, and they emerge from their revitalizing drink only to silently slip away, just as inaudibly as they had come; the whisper of their vanishing footsteps harmonizing with the swish of the mother wolf’s twin tails as they brush past the dense undergrowth to disappear into the dark obscurity of the shadows.

Your right. This place is dead. a shame. sad

"Listen long, lest looming luck lessen." The ferryman jeered.
his ivory smile bleed color away as it gleamed,
and into the mismatched group of souls he peered,
and doomed they were he deemed.

Some have lingered here of old,
some are newly dead and newly here,
but all you need know has been shown to you ere',
and the same to all is told.

See yon' ship on beach of ash?
Push out an you may row.
Waters will waver and dip,
and if one's sins are heavy so,
so will you a-tip!

Cheery Charon cheerio'd,
and a victorian poet leapt onboard and bid they rowed.

What could be over yon' beach of ash?
What light washes down on us once we leave this tomblike shade?
Joys with names that can only with music be conveyed?

"Hold, fool boy!" The northman said,
So fair his hair, and like his hands- so red;

Penance I carry,
and I will tarry,
for I will sink our boat to misty Hel.
I swore an oath, and will no' row!
I shalle never again a viking go,
and and by my dark and tattered soul,
for what it amounts,
this a' viking going counts;
I'll not burden you with blood I shed nor gold I stole.

"What ho! The northman's alright!"
Said a jovial crusader;

He's a savage, but I wonder if he's not a knight!
Come aboard with us, honorable raider!
I'll throw my lot in with you,
who's words ring so brave,
shrug the burden from those broad shoulders;
have not a heavy heart when 'tis so true!

"I'll not have you aboard, crusader."
Said a arabic silk-trader;

You're polished armor on the outside- I see'th,
but like the code of your order who invaded,
you are something less brilliant underneath,
under that visor is the weight of my homeland raided!
I'll not go down with you kaffir,
and I'll anchor here if you prefer,
but should with him you others go,
I will not sink, and will not row!
Oh, but look at the other side!
I see fruit on trees, luscious houri's.
I see ancient angels, telling unknown stories.
"Please.." he sighed.
Save us all and forsake your ride.

"Ottoman! You took my homeland Thrace!"
Said one clad in furs and swarthy;

I'll die onboard with one of your imperialistic race,
and I'll die if one of you is worthy!
The other side, only I see clearly;
I see fire, I see light beaming purely.
I see Svarog, I see light!
Stay behind Turk, Svarga is my right!

"Silence, you pagan dog!"
Said the Padre from Barcelona;

Smell the sulfur and decay?
See the demons tilling grave-dust soil?
See the moving bodies flay,
hear them labor in mines and toil?
You must all confess to me,
and to the holy Madre-
Who is Rus?
- And please, call me Padre.

From the beach of ash,
a prince arose, dusting off his ancient wrappings,
festooned and golden royal trappings.
"A second chance to cross!
My brothers, do not share in my great loss!"

There is one sin that weighs you down,
one among all others;
that's the sin of the miserable human,
who won't throw his lot in with his brothers!
Forgive your foes by trusting them to be good,
and if you leave a man behind,
you'll sink from lightness- as you should!

Remember the dusty prince;
When whatever gods there may be choose so to test you,
remember not to let the ultimate lie best you.
The truth is simple, that keeps you afloat;
All of us are stuck together, dependent on the same boat.