Sylva Fae

Guest Post by Neil Giles, with Artwork by Emma Childs

I’m proud to welcome my first guest blogger, my Twitter friend, Neil Giles. Neil has these poems and articles ‘Astrology: The Sacred Art‘ and ‘The Runes – Wisdom of the Past‘ published on The Oak Wheel.

Follow Neil on Twitter.

Neil Giles – Biography

Born: yes
Age: somewhat
Training: history, literature, life
Country: Australia

Story: Captured by words – all my life ♦ Lover of the Northern myths since early childhood ♦ Passionate Celt, descended from the O’Donnells of Tir Chonaill ♦ Actor, director, playwright and circus performer for many years ♦ Oracle, writer, reader of Runes, Ogham and Tarot, Astrologer for many more years ♦ Five quiet years have followed and now live in a valley in the bush, just outside a small town in my native land.


THE GREEN MAN
by
Neil Giles

Green Man by Emma Childs

Green Man by Emma Childs

Burdened with sorrow, weary of town,
seeking solace
in the wood unfound (as yet)
came a traveller. Low hedges
bow to greet him.

Beyond, a meadow
further, an arch of trees, beckoning
easing dark burdens with warmth,
branches extended
in welcome. Deep woods

Traveller, at first easy striding,
bold on a sunlit path
now treads cautious
as the forest encircles,
eating his shadow

Air rich/putrid soil soft
prod of twig
a breath-stealing silence
patched with murmurs,
light – a passenger on leaves.
Something moves

Claw of twisted branches,
twig-plaited, leaves that shiver
curling to a chill forest kiss.
Eyes watching. Whose eyes?

Leaf hiss twig crack, a traveller
interrupted turns. Who’s that between
the stalks of a shadow? Uneasy breeze.
It is the Green Man

White wet smear of ghostwood limb
a spectre at a feast of trees.
Skin-scratching fear, awkwardly paired
with desire not nameable

Green man,
muscled skew of wood & leaf
Traveller,
wisp of not belonging, blown in.
Bent mouth in grim visage, Green Man speaks –

‘Would you dare to lose your head?’
Gnarled fingers jagged on his shoulder
traveller’s fearful eyes held
by unflinching gaze

Pain … a vagrant past,
before swept aside by sunlight
now rolls back.
‘Come. I’ll teach you forest ways.’
says a midnight voice

Voice & gaze break him.
He falls, weeping in strong arms
of beast/man/god
and is comforted …
for wild things see the pain within

‘Come. Feel as you have never done.’
Neither fierce nor gentle the voice
no order or command
a subtly inflected question

Tender, kiss of dew,
the Green Man takes the traveller’s face
into his spindle hands.
Gazing deep, a leaf falls,
spinning

Spins him around, wraps him,
eats him –
the forest fills him as he,
by turns, becomes
some other thing

Becomes –
willow seeking water
fir probing sky
gnat on acorn
salmon in pond
– dizzying, impossible. Forest canopy opens

Sky-wrack, storm & lightning
dazzling bolts/deluge
drenched by rain
awash in mud & grass
yet clean again. Last corkscrew of pain ,,,

… threads tear away
‘You’re empty. Forest will fill you. Come.’
Green Man hand takes wisp of fingers.
They vanish into leaves


TREES
by
Neil Giles

In the Heart of the Forest by Emma Childs

In the Heart of the Forest by Emma Childs

Trees
are the memory
of the world. They are silent
sentinels, watchers of the earth, measuring
the countless ages, passing on their mysteries and
their lore from one generation to the next. They are mighty
giants, guardians at the threshold of the secret places of the land.
They are hidden whisperers, inhabiting the quiet and the night, passing
messages that come softly on the breeze or drumming on the winds. They
are dreamers, poised majestically, endlessly still in moments of lazy
sunlight. They are travellers, moving slowly, almost imperceptibly toward
some further destination that we may never know or understand. They are
bridges over air and land and water, giving safe passage to those who walk
with knowledge and respect. They are shields against sunfire and
nightcold, giving shelter, food and warmth for those in need. Trees are the
people of the deeps. Their spirit is of the far places from which
we all come and to which we must return.
Trees witness all that
passes in the nine
realms of the world and
discuss such matters in
their secret congress
of the forest. A tree
may be alone, an
acrobat balanced on
a crag or one of many
massed in winding,
twisting paths that
summon the wanderer
on a journey into mysterious
lands. Trees may point the way ahead or conceal it. They gather in
numbers at places of power, remembering a time when all the world was forest.
They are the wise ones, holding eternal court beneath the roof of stars.

Cyclamens at Killerton by Emma Childs

Cyclamens at Killerton by Emma Childs


TO AUTUMN’S LAST LEAF
by
Neil Giles

Autumn Oak by Emma Childs

Autumn Oak by Emma Childs

An Autumn coronet, sweet burn of gold,
Last leaves aflame, all else is faded green.
This fiery kiss a plea ‘gainst bleaching cold;
Remorseless comes the mist and Winter’s Queen.
There’s food within, a fire’s in the grate.
Abroad, the furious steeds of darken’d air
Do clash their hooves with crack of thunder bold.
Rain threatens, still I hesitate,
Transfixed, my gaze upon a branch that’s nearly bare;
Grey fingers clutch the sparks they cannot hold.


Willow Field by Emma Childs

Willow Field by Emma Childs

Emma Childs

All beautiful artwork in this post is by award winning, professional artist Emma Childs. View her other works at E.J.L. Original Art.

Follow Emma on Twitter.

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8 thoughts on “Guest Post by Neil Giles, with Artwork by Emma Childs

      1. Sylva FaeSylva Fae Post author

        Thank you Neil for allowing me to enhance my blog with your fabulous poems. I look forward to your next guest post.

      2. Avatarrose and kirk

        It is so wonderful to see how you continue your creativity and love of the natural world and its forces. Would love to know if you are coming back to Adelaide anytime soon! Love rose and Kirk, from ‘cr*p hotel’ lol

        1. AvatarNeil G

          Rose & Kirk! Great to make contact again and so lovely to read your comments on my work. Would love to catch up. Much has changed in the intervening years and I don’t travel as readily as I once did. However, one never knows. Is either of you on Twitter? @Banquozghost will reach me. Neil G. Would really love to talk.

  1. AvatarHolly Elmore

    LOVE the magic within Neil’s poems & Emma’s art – they transport one to another realm. When one returns the reality is shifted by the magic. With an open heart the magic remains within one’s life. Thank you for including their powerful work on your blog. With Love, Holly

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