Poems on The Patio, Cllr Joyce Lucas Open Garden Cad Goddeu, The Battle of the Trees, in aid of Help For Heroes
June 7th 2014 2pm - 6-pm
Everyone is invited to bring along their favourite poem to read or just come along and listen.
15 Lonsdale Way, Oakham, Rutland,
01572 755 718
The Battle of the Trees
I was in many forms
before I was set free
I was a narrow blood-spotted sword
I believe, when I was formed
I was teardrops in the air
I was a star-woven star
I was the truth of a letter
I was the tale of origins
I was illuminated lanterns
for a year and a half
I was a bridge that spanned
three-score estuaries
I was a journey, I was an eagle
I was a coracle on the sea
I was the froth on the beer
I was a droplet in a shower [of rain]
I was a sword in hand
I was a shield in battle
I was a string in a harp
a phantom for nine years
foam on the waters
I was a spark in the fire
I was a log in the blaze
I naughty but my song
since I was a little child
I sang in the van at the Battle of the Trees
before the Defender of Britain
There passed me by, fleet-hoofed steeds
treasure-laded fleets
There passed me by a wide-mawed beast
bearing a hundred heads
one mighty host
'neath the root of its tongue
and another host dwells
in the napes of its neck
A black-groined toad
bearing a hundred claws
a mottled, ridged, serpent
with a hundred souls, by their sin
tortured in the folds of its flesh
I was at the fortress of Nefenhir
where trees and grass rushed into battle
minstrels sang
warriors clashed
the war-like hosts
that Gwydion made
Neifion was invoked
as was Christ of the inception
until the time of redemption
by the Lord of all he made
The Lord responded
'through words of reconciliation
conjure noble trees
together as a host
and resist the mob,
unused as they are to battle.'
When trees were conjured
their hope in tree-form
that brought before them trees
plucked from four harp-strings
they cast-down in battle
three war-weary chieftains
sadness tortured the maiden
cut through by the battle cry
Flaxen-tipped the maiden's hair
the spoils of the restless cow.
They did nos manage to disperse us
with the blood of men up to our thighs
the greatest of three bloodsheds
known to the world
and one that happened
was in the form of a flood
and Christ was crucified
with the day of judgement near at hand
The alder at the front line
that foraged first
the willow and rowan trees
were late to join the army
The spiky blackthorn
was eager for slaughter
beloved and powerful
resisted all they saw
rose-trees ventured forth
against a venomous host
the raspberry-tree formed
they made an enclosure
box and honeysuckle,
and ivy in its prime
the surge of giant gorse
cherry trees raised the alarm
Birch-tree, in its great beauty
was delayed by donning his armour,
though not out of cowardice,
but rather from its greatness
Almond trees of valuable nature
foreign wood with exotic form
pine trees in the hall's place of honour
in the great throne of battle
oak, the best, was exalted
before the other rulers
the lime-tree in all its fury
flinched not a single foot
slew in the centre,
then on the left and the right
hazels were adjudged
worthy of the fray
the privet, blessed are they
battle-bull, king of the world
on sea and estuary
the beech excelled
the holly, greened anew
was in the battle
superlative in his cry,
terror dealt from its hand
briony burst forth
breaking the battle ranks
bracken destroyed
broom headed for battle
in the furrows of wounding.
Gorse was not denied
though it be the peasant's bane
Heather, fine and victorious
bewitched your warriors
even pursued your men
The oak rushed
before him heaven and earth trembled
Borage, valiant warrior
his name on the courtry floor
the congress of elms
causing terror
rebuffing all onslaughts
when their defences were breached
Pear, superlative in oppression
on the field of battle.
Their aim to rush into the fray
the awesome thorn-apple
The chestnuts shamed
the pine with its thrust
Jet's nature is black
The mountain's nature is to be bent-backed
The tree's nature is slim at daybreak
Powerful is the nature of the high seas
Ever since I sensed the time [of year]
when leaflets adorn the tips of the birch trees
our revival removing the enchantment [of winter]
The crowns of the oaks have ensnared us
by the incantations of Maeldderw
laughing on the cliff-side
the lord in battle-array
Not from mother or father
Was I engendered
My blood, my creation
from the nine elemental forms
from fruit from fruition
from the first fruit-formation of god
from primroses and highland flowers
from the flowers of trees and shrubs
from soil and earth
was I made
from the flowers of nettles
from the water of the ninth wave
was I charmed [into being] by Math
before I became the gifted one
I was charmed [into being] by Gwydion,
great king of the Brython
as did Eurwys and Euron
and Euron and Modron
and a hundred and fifty mages
learned men, descendants of Math
they fashioned me
the Protector enchanted me
when he was partly burnt
The ways of the mages
conjoured me before the world [was formed]
before its peoples were mine
before the world's extent was set
the beauteous gifts of the finest bard made us all
in verse do I abide by what the tongue tells
I spent my time at daybreak,
I slept in the purple
I was arrayed for battle
by Dylan, scion of the sea
In the circle at the heart of things
between the knees of rulers
like two eager spears
from the heavens they came
flooding into Annwfn
to battle did they come
eight-score hundred
and I pierced them all, despite their aggression
they are not older, they are not younger
than I in their spear-thrusts
the power of a hundred men was mine
each and nine hundred
they were mine
upon my mottled sword the blood
of nobles flows towards me
from god, from the burial where he lay
he came to where the boar was slain
he formed things, he unmade them
he formed languages
Radiant his name, the strong-handed one
Lluch leads a host:
'The might of my sparks
fly high at my approach.'
I was a varicoloured serpent on a hill
I was a viper in a lake
I was mad a star by danger
I was a spit, thus
these are my cloak and my cauldron
I am well prepared
four-score puffs of smoke
for all is brought
five battalions of arms
are equal to my knife
six tawny steeds
are a hundred times better
my chestnut mount
is fleet as a seagull
myself, I was not astonished
between the sea and shore
For I have caused carnage
Upon me a hundred parts
My shield is studded with ruddy gems
my shield-strap is of gold
He was not born in the doorway
who was so dear to me
namely Goronwy
from the meadows of Edrywy
My fingers are long and white
It is a long time since I was a herdsman
I dwelt upon the floor
before I became literate
I dwelt I went around them
I slept on a hundred isles
I took a hundred forts
Wise druids
foretell to Arthur
that which is and that which once was
to be perceived
from the meaning of the flood
With Christ crucified
and Judgement Day at hand
extolled in honeyed tones
I would conjure shrubs
for I am wanton
with the prophecy of Alchemists.
