Issue 33 - Imbolc/Spring 1997

Triads

by

Brendan McMahon

53

The concealments were, first,
the head in the hill,
(his eyes were everywhere)
Between the days he dreamed
the Honey Island, till the cock
crowed in an iron dawn;

while in deep waters,
Gwerthervr's great bleached
bones, to snarl
the Saxon oars.

The last, the dragons
in the mountain,
in love; they go forever
for the kill.

38

Three men marked
for humility were
Manawddan, Llywarch,
Gwgon, bards for

 

whom the song that rattles
crowns was sweeter than
dominion, the poem more
than phenomenon, only

the word real.

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