Tag Archives: Fairy Tale

The Shreiking Womb: Neesh…

* …So, Deirdru was kept in a place apart until she was ready for Connavor’s bed. * No one was allowed into her enclosure save her foster-mother, her foster-father, and her nurse maid, Leborcham, the satirist. * One winter’s day … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Glora…

* No high-born heroes No hounds in chase No shields arrayed… No walls. * No silvered soft goblets No light cavalcades No youthful assemblies No beetle-browed maids… To brighten our desolate halls. * …When their three hundred years were ended … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Raven…

* Hard the day when first I brought Dark Eva in my house to dwell Black the woman’s heart that wrought Such a cruel and malevolent spell. * …Lir departed Lake Devra with his company and travelled to the king’s … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Moyle…

* Where are my brothers? Why have I lived? This apex of affliction to know What now is left But a life of despair I am unable to bear Such heart-break of anguish and woe. * Continue reading at France … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Devra…

* Come, brothers three, accost the coast And welcome Lir’s resplendent host Such woeful welcome from a fateful morn Will never bring to him bright morrow Unhappy sire, doomed, forlorn Left ever to mourn in hopeless sorrow. * …Eva arrived … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Eva…

* Depart from me as graceful swans The waters be now your home Your palace hall is a pearly cave Its couch the crest of a crystal wave Your mantle is milk-white foam. * …The four children grew up under … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood: Eve…

* Our bed now rock of dripping-caves Our lullaby a thunderous roar of waves Royal-couches once our sleepy heads did press And every night the harpist’s art, caress. * …”Submit to the king, choose a wife from his fosterage and … Continue reading

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Fate of the Lir-Brood…

* Finnola, once my pride and joy Dark Aedh, of adventures bold Bright Fiachra, gentle, playful boy Little Conn, with curls of gold. * The Crafty-Ones met to choose their Chieftain. Five there were in the running… Red-Bove, Angus-Ever-Young, Ilbrec … Continue reading

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Masks of Sod

* …For those of you who have not yet realised, the preceding monographs have followed, relatively closely, the lines laid out by the Danish Philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard, in his master-work, ‘Fear and Trembling’. Quite apart from his unquestionble literary genius … Continue reading

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Names Matter: nimmy nimmy not…

* …Well, she felt that horrud. Howsomediver, she hard the king a coming along the passage. In he came, an’ when he sees the five skeins, he says, ‘Well, me dare I don’t see what ye will ha’ your skeins … Continue reading

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