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A Free Membership
Celtic Druids Newsletter
B Sli an Drui weekends
Sli an Drui Weekend Workshops
C Sli an Drui online
Sli an Drui Homestudy Course
D Celtic Handfasting
Pagan Weddings for all
E Druid's Calendar
Landscape Temple Map
F Five Roads to Tara
Gold Road identified
G Temple Donation?
200 yr old cow barn re-fit
H Astro Natal Chart
Incarnational Potential
I Astro Couples Chart
Compatibility for Couples
J Astro Transit Chart
Current Energy Flows
K Geostress Balancing
Home and Office
L Healing (One on One)
Healing and Counselling
M Psychic Readings
Tarot and Geomancy
N Spirit Release
(Ghost Busting)
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LIBRARY
Here you will find some poems that I have written as well as poems and songs written by others who try to share the magic of moments of awareness to inspire others. There is a poet in each of us but the crafting of a good poem takes effort and application. Please enjoy and submit your own work if you wish. Please give your name and put POETRY in the subject box of your email.
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A Motorway Near Tara
(To the air of 'The Wearing of the Green')
Oh Paddy dear now did you hear, the news that's going round?
They're going to build a motorway near Tara's sacred ground.
Yes, through that ancient valley between Tara Hill and Skryne
The National Roads Authority will cut a deep ravine.
'Twas to this place our fathers came, from lands across the sea
Successive waves of peoples of diverse identity
They built their homes, they worked their farms, in that sweet fertile vale
And up on Tara's reverenced ground they forged our nation's tale
Six thousand years of settlement lie in that peaceful glen
The homes of peasants, priests and kings, the haunts of mighty men
But six thousand years of history, count nothing in this day
When Royal Meath's proud ancestry must yield to Dublin's sway
Has Ireland lost its heart and soul? Has Meath lost all its pride?
What's happened to our sense of place, our love of all that's right
Tara has been a treasured place, all through our history
Have we the right to take away this precious legacy?
This motorway will save some time, at least that's what they say
But when the cost is far too great, we must find another way
We still have time to make a change, we can give it one more go
Let's keep our heritage intact but still let progress flow
So come all ye who treasure dear, Meath's heritage so rare
All you who've stood on Tara's Hill, and breathed of Tara's air
Stand up and make your voices heard, and join the growing throng
Let Hands off Tara be your call, Save Tara be your song.
Julitta Clancy
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I remember a long time ago
I remember a time long ago, when The Earth was revered and Magic was young.
I remember a time long ago, when Dragons soared in the sky and unicorns roamed the forests.
I remember a time long ago, when the Trees were awake and sang with the breeze.
Druids were many, the guardians of the Earth and keepers of knowledge.
A long time has past and things are not what they were.
Dragons slumber and Unicorns hide, both afraid to show themselves to mortal eyes.
The Trees no longer dance to the sound of Druid songs.
The Earth is taken for granted and Magic is all but forgotten.
Druids are few and no longer feel like singing.
They weep for the Earth and the loss of knowledge.
I see a future where Magic is remembered.
The knowledge of the Druids is sought.
I pray that it isn’t too late.
For the Earth is sick and her children are too.
The knowledge and the ways of old may be able to save her.
If only her children knew, that they were the cause.
Peace and Love towards all would be a start.
A band-aid for wounds so deeply wrought.
Only time will tell if all the wounds will heal.
For her children care not how ill she will feel.
But when she is dieing and a barren waste.
Her children will try to remember a time long ago.
Christopher D. Gillespie
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Tara na Rí 's Tara na Druí
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Tara is beautiful and so is Skreen, lets save the Sacred Valley that lies in between.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Tara is my heritage and culture: lets save Tara Valley from Dempsey the Vulture.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Tara is special so it shouldn't be tolled, help save Tara from Berties Troll Road.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Opus Dei's HQ is hidden in Lismullin, don't be fooled - its your leg they are bulling.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
McCarthy wants to dump on Tara Hill, so lets all stop him - cos its the peoples will.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Why did politicians let it get this far? Maybe brown envelopes while having a jar?
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Pagans have Rights in EU Law, we have to claim them, that's what they are for.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Pilgrimage to Tara is your Pagan Right: barefoot dancing and drumming all night.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Call to the Sun, Moon and Stars, embrace the Planets, especially Venus and Mars.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Tara is a Pagan City, its a shining Jewel, expose Opus Dei making Bertie a fool.
Tara na Rí agus Tara na Druí, Tara for you and Tara for me.
Tara is beautiful and so is Skreen, lets save the Sacred Valley that lies in between.
by Con Connor
10-11-06
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At the Hill of Tara
Sloping trenches beside Grainnes Enclosure
where I am enveloped by the Earths green stomach hair -
healthy green and gold fur lining her
sloping belly and breasts where vortexes
form at her nipples
I’ve learned to spin in and out
of infinity
milking her underground water
stretching from the inner pressure
milk flowing upward
my arms levitating
milk launching into her blue and white
illuminated lover
sun blazing 3 houses down
I am cushioned in a
perfect bed as the sun heats
feeling so comfortable and fearlessly at ease
I remember
when I had this feeling last
beside a new pile of stones
the birth at an ancient site at Carnsore Point -
we built a carnvaha to protect the world
beginning in Ireland
from nuclear poisons
above 2 underground streams that cross and form
a vortex
we piled our stones
each a bundle of prayers
and we watched
as the pile grew
with stones, crystals, a sheepskin, shells
and we sat around the cairn like a bonfire
a fire we were all kindling -
you didn’t have to be close to feel the flames,
the glow of the gathering,
folks laying, resting, sitting, standing
spinning our prayers to penetrate and heal the globe
The sun smiled and the ocean sent an elemental
because we gathered in love, basket of apples passed around.
The sun observes me now
warming my cheek and dramatizing my image with shadows
across a handmade page
and I began to write because I am in love.
On my way with a swollen heart
Golden long locks, thick black curls
sloping nose, Irish lips
Couldn’t drink enough of the other
my nectar
your wine
we combined -
so divine
so sublime
Jucia Comnes
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But, the Time is Now.
Once, there were Stars on this Irish Earth;
subtle energy pulsing, vibrating in balance.
Both Our Mother and Father were happy,
together We lived, in Spirit and Abundance.
But what is our want, what is our need,
and from whence comes these hungers?
Is it our egos fear or our egos greed
and how did this come among us?
Our Race memories are of Joy and Abundance
and this comes from Our time of Oneness.
When we could love and grow in the Now,
far beyond todays consumer madness.
But deep inside, we all still remember;
that the Shining Ones showed us the way
They are here again and with us now,
when we work with Light, each day.
by Con Connor
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Advice from Amergin
Standing silent, here upon the Tara of my dreams…
I lay down a Cross of Stone, and listen as the Lia Fail screams.
Surrendering its final breath, the Stone of Destiny gives up the ghost.
Our Father takes its spirit in, and Jesus’ grace abounds to lend us hope….
And down in the valley below,
Orestes drives a thorn of gold,
Through the mother Earth we’ve always known.
The old gods stand by silent,
Kissing their sweet memories goodbye.
The dollar, drunk on violence,
Scrapes the past aside without a sigh….
And I breath in deep,
Feel the Re pour up my feet,
Place my hand upon the Stone and cry.
What you sow you reap,
And soon their greed shall know defeat,
And though I am alone I still ask “Why?”.
Breath deeply,
Fall to my knees…
Head down,
“Lord tell me please,
“How long must we this vain world endure?
“How to end this disease….
“How can we return to what is Pure?”
And as if in answer, I feel a hand alight upon my head.
“Brother this vain cancer, cannot last beyond its end;
“Foretold in the book of Yet to Come.”
“The gods of old won’t shed a tear, nor fear the pangs of this world’s passing-by.”
“For them and us The Way is clear, In Jesus’ name and grace we shall reside.”
“Enraptured by the presence of The One.”
“So take your refuge in the setting sun,
“In the lure from beyond world’s end,
“In the joy of loving everyone,
“In the messengers the spirits send,
“And pray….
“And you and I will meet again some day.”
I turned, and rising to my feet,
The eyes of Amergin mine did meet,
And smiling he picked up his harp and played.
The evening star was just awaking,
And oh, I’m sure my hands were shaking,
But through my flute I breathed and stood and swayed.
We poured our blessings through our songs,
On down o’er Tara’s silken lawns,
And rising up we left the Skryne behind.
As Earth and Ether fell away,
We played the living breathing Re,
And how indeed was eased my weathered mind.
The Light of all creation danced,
And on I played by Love entranced,
As Angels sang of newness and of morning;
The weeping of the world had ceased,
The once-bound Meek had been released,
And through the Christ Light came Creation pouring:
The Creator uttered his Voice,
And Creation Rejoiced.
Copyright © Charles Burgess 2005
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The Song of Fionn.
May-day, delightful time.
How beautiful the colour.
The blackbirds sing their full tune.
Would that Laeg were here!
The cuckoos call in constant strains
How welcome is the noble brilliance
of the changing season.
On the margin of the branchy woods,
the summer swallows skim the stream;
horses seek the pool:
the heather spreads her long hair out;
pale bog myrtle thrives;
the sea is lulled to calm,
flowers cover the earth.
(author unknown)
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This poem came to me on the Wednesday morning after the last full moon. It started to come together as i felt the house and by the time i got to the office it was formed.
Celtic Goddess - She has returned see Tara na Rí for picture
A Wooden Horse
A simple handcarved horse with spirals on her belly
Discarded without a care
Found! By chance? Or by design?
Brought to ceremony as the full moon was set to rise
Friends gathered around hand in hand focused a simple object.
As their energy connect, an image starts to form.
A white mare, powerful and proud
The image gets stronger and stronger
She prances within the circle, throwing up a cloud of dust with her hooves
She throws her head back as she rears up on her powerful hind legs
Screaming to be released, to run free
Then with aon, dó, trí and a shout of joy, she is gone
Galloping through the valley into the dreams of some and nightmares of others.
To awaken the sleepwalker
To give strength to those who walk the path
To give life & energy to a new myth
Then on Wednesday night i was with some friends, as one of the women was leaving the room, she said to me " i anm sorry for staring at you, but i can't stop looking at the great white horse that is around you tonight".
I had felt a very stronge presence of the white mare with all that day.
Truely the start of a new myth.
Take care
Solas
John
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George Russel wrote of an experience he had in the Chamber of Newgrange in 1897.
As he spoke, he paused before a great mound overgrown with trees,
and around it silver clear in the moonlight were immense stones piled,
the remains of an original circle,
and there was a dark low narrow entrance leading within -
He took Con by the hand and in an instant they were standing in a lofty,
cross shaped cave, built roughly of huge stones.
"This was my palace. In days past many a one plucked here the purple
flower of magic and the fruit of the tree of life......
And even as he spoke, a light began to glow and to pervade the cave,
and to obliterate the stone walls and the antique hieroglyphics engraven thereon,
and to melt the earthen floor into itself like a fiery sun suddenly uprisen within the world,
and there was everywhere a wandering ecstasy of sound; light and sound were one;
light had a voice.....
I am Aengus, men call me young. I am the sunlight in the heart, moonlight in the mind; I am the light at the end of every dream....
I will make you immortal; for my palace opens into the Gardens of the Sun.
AE Russell
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It’s a right brained world
It’s a right brained world full of left brained people,
but God loves us all because to Him all are equal.
We work and we strive to own a bigger car,
but then we dress up at night and go out for a jar.
Because every now and then we see a little boss abuse power,
but we must keep our jobs... so we hope that he’ll be gone in the hour.
But sometimes we wonder if some day our time will come,
then we’ll be the ones who’ll do it and fill this world with fun.
Con Connor
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Dark Rosaleen
Dark Rosaleen has dyed her hair, she’s wearing platform trainers, and takes taxi’s everywhere. She drinks from a bottle, paints her eyes and her lips, shows off her legs and her underwired bits.
You see her in the morning on her way to work, with her flat shoes and nicely ironed shirt, When she’s there, she watches the clock.... tick fucking tock, wont eat at her break to keep the weight down, wants to smile but can only frown.
But it’s late at night, when she comes alive, wearing high heels and mini skirt,
face covered with powder and paint, she’s feels her power and that everythings right,
she hopes to meet him and that tonights the night.
She’s got it she knows, and when she dances it shows, sex energy from her head to her toes.....then she feels the man hunger, and smiles, knowing they want her. She’s with her friends, and she’s feeling good, dancing and drinking as all girls should,
when along comes a guy.... that suddenly catches her eye. Suddenly she’s naked.... alone and exposed.... “Oh, he’s lovely, I hope that he knows, that all I really want; is love”,
and then “Oh God, I hope that it shows”.
by Con Connor
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Practice and Practice
You practice and practice and then one night,
finally, you both get it right.
Your expression of Love is manifest through lust,
but to make it happen, practice you must.
Will it be a girl, or will it be a boy,
even if it’s twins, it will bring pure joy.
Practice is good, it’s not just sensation,
it’s man and woman taking part in creation.
All parents are blessed by God,
because Three are working together
and you’ll have His Love, now and for ever.
But just remember this; it all began with a loving kiss,
and when you know what you want you just cant miss.
Con Connor
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Geometry and Art
There was a time long ago, when those who carved the rocks,
hid their magic, buried their temples and headed for the docks.
Today’s diggers know so very little, because they left nothing behind.
They call their temples; graves, only seeing them in the left mind.
But what if their magic was real, subtle and right brain,
compensating for the weather, Jayus, maybe we need magic again.
They abandoned Ireland when the sea stopped rising,
shut down the temples and headed for the east horizon.
We were left a message carved in stone,
on solar temples we now call our own.
Many years later when a new people came,
things had changed and could never be the same.
They buried their dead in the huge ancient mound,
and these are the bones that the diggers have found.
But deep inside was a sacred geometry,
spirals and lozenges hidden, not for all to see.
For more than 6,000 years the Sun went all the way,
up a 66 foot passage as it still does today.
The diggers acknowledge the tourist revenue,
but they conspire to hide the truth from me and from you.
There was Quartz in that roofbox that modified the light,
into a pulsing rainbow on the morning of the longest night.
But the biggest and the best
is the two 100 foot passages to the north west.
Equal day and equal night,
their perfect geometry still works right.
Underground streams join up in the middle,
being aware of this is a clue to the riddle.
Dowsing inside the chamber gives amazing reactions
because we are repeating our ancestors actions.
But what if we need that forgotten knowledge again,
our weather is bad, maybe as bad as it was then.
It is very wrong to call it art, if you don’t know what it means.
Don’t judge ancient ways as if they are modern movie scenes.
Con Connor 24 9 98
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My Darling Bagum.
There is a girl I’ll alway love
her eyes, her smile and her beautiful hair,
she’s kinda tricky and very smart,
she’ll always be held deep in my heart.
Top of the class without trying,
mind racing, working life out.
Caring and sharing her thoughtful ways,
laughing and joking and never a pout.
She enjoys the challange that life brings,
revels in attention and the chance to shine.
It has always been so easy for her,
she’s special and I’m so glad she is mine.
Now she’s older, no longer a young girl,
busses to school with a big bag of books.
Stepping it out with her skirts all a trail,
noticing boys and all their warm looks.
Her life’s just begining at Jupiter return,
now she’s in the big world all on her own,
her families behind her with support and love,
with hugs and kisses and sometimes by phone.
By
Dad,
16 / 09 / 98.
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HERO’S
Young Newton just gravitated,
while clever Kelvin calculated,
before Tesla electrified.
Then Einstien almost related,
while layers of Reich accumulated,
und Herr Schauberger deeply resonated.
but sadly, Grander over-magnetised.
Now, Knight and Stromberg are energised,
leading lightworkers, all harmonised.
Con Connor
March 2001
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Kiltalown Stone
There once was a stone in Kiltalown,
it was outstanding in its field, all on its own,
but now its gone cause someone said
“I’m going to build houses here instead”
An important man with lots of power
paid an archaeologist to dig it up in an hour.
If these houses be private, then question we must,
because this sacred field was once held in trust.
What can you do when you are only one voice,
you can speak to your councillors, ah there all really nice,
for thousands of years it marked a sacred spot,
but todays people in power dont care one jot.
Expose them I would if only I could,
our heritage is important for the common good.
but housings their issue and votes their need,
they trample on the past to fulfill their greed.
Con Connor
ps I did expose him and he was stopped, the NRA was stopped too!
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