Blodeuwedd’s Song

Following along the owls theme… this poem was written back when I was about seventeen, and is one of the few things from my early writing days that I still like. Although I wasn’t conscious of it at the time ‘I am’ is a technique used by bards, modern and old, as a way of getting closer to a subject. ‘I am the stag of seven tines’. It’s a very simple way of invoking/evoking the spirit you want to work with.

As mentioned yesterday, I was from an early age enchanted by Alan Garner’s The Owl Service, in which ancient Welsh myth replays itself through three young folk. The idea that the myths might be real things, that take over lives and reinvent themselves, appealed to me. It still appeals to the author in me, although these days I have far less inclination to see myself as doomed anti-heroine material! However, the myths do give s archetypes to work with, and narratives that at times can help us make sense of our own lives. Working with the meanings, symbols and shapes of mythic tales can be helpful as part of the personal journey and quest for wisdom and understanding. So, this is a poem about Blodeuwedd, The Owl Service, the idea of being taken over by myth, and my belief that being turned into an owl is freedom, not punnishment.

Blodeuwedd’s Song

I was flowers, paint me owls, set me free.

Too long in soft sweet innocence I reach for wings and talons.

Face of flowers, born of flowers, broom oak and meadowsweet.

I am ageless, I am timeless. If you love me, set me free.

This my ancient, burning magic, dreams that shape insanity.

Too long in the daylight, I long to kill and fly through trees.

This is my disturbed protection, reality in terror rules.

Hide behind my imagination to be there when the veil falls.

A sorrow, tragic bitter myth I have with choice instead of life.

To hide behind the msyteries and fly in silence through the night.

Give me eyes to see forever, give me grace and time to be,

Believing, in the darkness. If you love me, set me free.

Bitter love first made me owls, owls still are part of me,

Dancing crazy through this lifetime, living mostly in my dreams.

I am owls, I am flowers, each with time my state of mind.

I am mad, but this ploy’s working.

While I’m crazy, I am free.

4 thoughts on “Blodeuwedd’s Song”

  1. Thanks ever so much for your initial comments…they really set the stage for reading and appreciating the poem by providing the cultural perspective on the poem….a poem I very much enjoyed and it made me consider how my own mythology of sorts has shaped my poetry.

    Like

  2. Beautiful poem, Bryn. That is a tragic myth.
    ‘I am a stag of seven tines’ Isn’t this from Amergin’s poem when the Sons of Mil came to Ireland? I love that poem.

    Anyway, I enjoy your reading your posts.

    Like

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