“ Listen. The minstrels sing In the departed villages.
The nightingale, Dust in the buried wood, flies on the grains of her wings And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's tale.
— Dylan Thomas
Samhain, the Celtic New Year, began the first of November with the arrival of the darkness. This was the chance for all dwelling in the faerie kingdom, and the Gods of the Earth, to glimpse beyond the mist, pass through to the other side, and to say farewell to that which is ending. Mongfhionn and Diantha, side by side, climbed the Hill of Tara. Strange perhaps to see a Goddess Queen and a faeri...Read more
“
Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world....
for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!
— William Butler Yeats
Voyager slipped into the silky wrens’ wings as though they had been made for him, as though the legs he had been born with, which carried him everywhere, were but mere appendages, useless once airborne. He circled above the Blackthorn bushes, than the Willows, giant Oaks, Hawthorns and Hazelwood. Closing his eyes, he kept climbing higher and higher. When he finally opened his eyes and looked down he felt dizzy, the horizon line kept tilting this way and that. There were no familiar landmar...Read more
“Suddenly, time blossomed like a strange flower in his skull....
Before this he was transfixed in the present. But memory produced another dimension in the animal…No longer did memory flicker briefly and disappear, enclosing him in darkness again. Now it stretched brightly behind him and also stretched out ahead - a road on which he always saw his own changing image.” -- Seth
“Which way do we go Voyager?” Una flew dizzy circles around Voyager’s head, “which way, which way? north, south, east or west?” “The left hand path or the right hand path?” Voyager had hidden behind a clump of Blackthorn bushes, his paws over his head, moaning to himself: “Chan eil fhios agam, Chan eil fhios agam, I don’t kno...Read more
“…a dog might fly, but they are very unlikely birds”.
My story begins in the middle because I do not know the beginning and of course I do not know the ending, as no creature knows its ending. 
“Gloch”, Voyager burped, and a bit of sourness filled the air. Una wrinkled her antennae in response. Being deaf she could not hear Voyager’s belches, but she could smell well enough and see his mosaic of fur with her three jeweled eyes. “Have you eaten your fill now Voyager”? The indigo blue of Una’s words pulsated in the anterior veins of her wings. Voyager leaped up onto his hind legs, hopped and spun in circles because he knew it would make ...Read more
The Portal
"At my nativity, The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, of burning cressets, and at my birth The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shaked like a coward." — Henry IV, Part 1, Act 3, scene Voyager awoke with a start, his whiskers were twitching. That could mean only one thing — A vision was coming. It would start in the center of his forehead, a swirly cloud followed by bright pinpoints of light; the smell of violets if there was to be a journey, Hawthorne wood smoke for danger & (he grinned slyly), fragrance of rose when a lady friend appeared. He sniffed harder and harder, but nothing more than last night&rs...Read more |
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R.A. Martin is a lover of four-legged creatures and a psycho-geographer in the age of sensible shoes, exploring the hidden passageways, nooks & crannies & abandoned corners of the natural and urban landscape. Read More »
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