Owlspirit poem by Dyfed Lloyd Evans
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Owlspirit
Screech owl shimmering — the hollowing
of misgained memories
Phantom form, her whispered wings
outspread in supplication
A faithful adoration
moon-painted monochromic
murderess,
Her sweet caress
The snatch of taloned claw
Athena lives!
Goddess wrapped in feather cloak
of night-time mystery
Her truth in poetry;
my feathered muse.
Where I in murine fear,
frozen to the spot
wish for but yet abhor
Her backlit silhouette
upon the disk of moon
her patroness
Silent wingbeats flickering
without the castle-keep of mind
waft death-winds from the north
raise candles to a spluttered life
its flame inspired
casts shadows on my scribbling hand
Birthing awareness of her claws
that catch and rend the mind
Circlet of the corded braid
where she feeds
In payment of her gift;
The muse
And I, within poetic thrall
can but succumb
to darkness deeper still
where her shadow falls.
Her glory hid in feathered mystery
The price —
a spirit lost in darkness, dying,
Scribing words
To exorcize the pain
As pen on paper squeaks
like mouse impaled
upon her crooked claws
Still I am hers in body, soul,
and ultimately mind
And ever more shall be...
She is the temptress
her form my torturer
The secret source of all my words.
That beast through which
their hidden meanings
are revealed —
Laid bare unto the bone.
Whispered like the beat
of deadly silent wings.
of misgained memories
Phantom form, her whispered wings
outspread in supplication
A faithful adoration
moon-painted monochromic
murderess,
Her sweet caress
The snatch of taloned claw
Athena lives!
Goddess wrapped in feather cloak
of night-time mystery
Her truth in poetry;
my feathered muse.
Where I in murine fear,
frozen to the spot
wish for but yet abhor
Her backlit silhouette
upon the disk of moon
her patroness
Silent wingbeats flickering
without the castle-keep of mind
waft death-winds from the north
raise candles to a spluttered life
its flame inspired
casts shadows on my scribbling hand
Birthing awareness of her claws
that catch and rend the mind
Circlet of the corded braid
where she feeds
In payment of her gift;
The muse
And I, within poetic thrall
can but succumb
to darkness deeper still
where her shadow falls.
Her glory hid in feathered mystery
The price —
a spirit lost in darkness, dying,
Scribing words
To exorcize the pain
As pen on paper squeaks
like mouse impaled
upon her crooked claws
Still I am hers in body, soul,
and ultimately mind
And ever more shall be...
She is the temptress
her form my torturer
The secret source of all my words.
That beast through which
their hidden meanings
are revealed —
Laid bare unto the bone.
Whispered like the beat
of deadly silent wings.
Inspiration for this poem comes from several sources. Though its inception comes from a return visit to the farm where I grew up in 1998. There was an old stone-built barn there and I recall an barn owl flying twards me from the barn one early autumn morning. This image of the owl helped to merge with the goddesses who bore her form: Athena in Greek mythos and Blodeuwedd in Cymric myth. These images and the nature owl all merged together to yield this poem.
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