The Morrigan

I have a passion for folklore and legend,and so I wrote The MorriganThe Morrigan is a character from Irish folklore,she appeard in time of death,at battlegrounds and in time of war..seeing her indicates your time is up

 THE TALE OF Paddy O:Rourke

 I lay on blood stained battle ground
with perished comrades groaning sound

crashing swords,as knife hit knife
what hellish place,to lose yir life

and closed my dying tired eyes
amidst the fighting,warrior:s cries

for reason still unknown to me
i open eyes ,before me see

a woman , taking form of crow
appears in times of wrath and woe

at time of death releases soul
in raven feathers black as coal

she whispers in my ear… goodbye
i scream at her ,don’t let me die

oh morrigan,please let me live
my meg ,a child i want to give

she stares then smiles,.. then walks away
and lets me live ,another day
she spared this merest mortals life
returned to land ,returned to wife

she comes at death ,takes bravest men
but let me live,raise children ten

the morrigan,a goddess queen
on battle ground that day i seen

so now on newest eve of year
to the morrigan i raise a cheer

and if on roof.there’s ravens sat
wish them good morning then tip my hat

© eliza 2010


I want to be an Oligist

I want to be an Oligist

think its the job for me

the only problem i can find

don’t know which one to be

and so i came up with a list

to help me pick and choose

and if you take the time to look

appreciate your views

i might be a psychologist
and mess around with minds

a boney archaeologist
i wonder what i’d find


an egotistic autologist
learn all about myself

a greedy aphnologist
become obsessed with wealth

might be

a work would be in vein

a wet and damp ombrologist
who loves to watch the rain


a tired gypnologist
could fall asleep for days

a pious hagiologist
who sits around and prays

might be

a pukey enemetologist
who’s always feeling sick

a hellish diatologist
who’s friendly with old nick


an ancient egyptologist
i’d sail right up the Nile

a trendy fashionologist
show off my clothes with style

i think i’ll stop…………
because my head is full of Scottish mist

perhaps its time i went to see
a meteorologist
© Eliza 2010

Queen of nine days

Lady Jane Grey was a tragic figure.She was used as a puppet in  the year15.53.She didint want to be Queen and reined for 9 days until Queen Mary better known as bloody Mary was declared rightful heir to the thrown…and seventeen year old Jane and her young husband Guilford’s fate was sealed…they both were beheaded one hour apart .Young Lady Jane politely asked her executioner ..if he could take off her head before she laid it down…he answered “no madame” and cut off her head……….

Pick petals from this pretty flower
await my death this final hour

I watched them take to tower hill
my Guildford as my heart stood still

In bluest skies,the ravens soared
as London’s masses cheered and roared

with Axe they severed my loves life
I sit alone, his truest wife

and all for sake of crown and heir
my neck,that once you called so fair

will fall and die at tower green
nine days thee hosted me as Queen

oh Guilford ,keeper of my heart
no longer shall we be apart

at last the final petal falls
my name i hear all England call

impatiently I long for death
your name , I shout with final breath

the sweetest day 19th July
tonight again with thee I’ll lie

at rest ,so young aged seventeen
the Queen is dead….. long live the Queen


Do not

Do not be afraid to walk
where others may get lost
Do not be afraid to give
no matter what the cost.

Do not be afraid to hear
while others cover ears,
do not be afraid to face
your darkest deepest fears,

Do not be afraid to see
with eyes that open wide,
do not be afraid to stay
while others run and hide.

Do not be afraid to speak
when others wont agree ,
do not be afraid to stand
when others fall to knees

Do not whisper your reply
when others ask your name
raise your head,take a  breath
and shout the world your name

 © eliza.2010


On attempting to fly on my broomstick tonight

 Though I tried  and I tried,I just couldn’t  take flight
 And tonight of all nights my old  broom   playing up
 When I’m a contender for the witches gold   cup
 A prestige’s award yes I’ve been nominated
  so please understand why I’m feeling frustrated
 After many a year wishing and praying
 Finally tonight I could have been saying
Who I’d like to thank…then I’d start to cry
 This dream wont come true if old broomy wont fly
 Now I remember,my stupid old cat
 today peed on my broomstick and all over my hat
I’ll cast her a spell my old broom I will dry
and as quick as a flash We’ll be ready to fly

I met the Spring


  I met the spring this  morning while going for a walk.
 I sensed that she was busy and had no time to talk.  

 Within her arms a bundle of plants and shoots and   seeds
 Adorned her neck with snowdrops she wore like flower beads

Her dress was sewn from crocuses , a fragrant scented gown

And on her head wore bluebells , she’d  placed there like a crown

 And as I made to pass her, into her arms was drawn

And from her warm and light embrace know winter’s almost gone


visit my website…