Pythian Games

put on your track shoes and write the miles

The Wild Hunt

with 4 comments

(A memory from the Chocolate Box)

The recent storms brought back memories of my childhood in Ireland, when I was told that the thunder and lightning were made by the Wild Hunt. To me, there was nothing more exciting or terrifying than to imagine the black horses and their dark riders loose on a stormy night.

The Wild Hunt

On stormy nights, when the Wild Hunt Rides,
And there is no balm that soothes,
I watch the sky for the flash of their swords
And the thunder of their hooves.

Their horses black as the leaden clouds
Buck and charge the sky.
The mountains shake as they raise their heads
And echo a warrior’s cry.

What prey do they seek on these stormy nights,
What leaves the scent of blood?
What cowers in fear before the Ride
That comes in a raging flood?

It is man that they hunt through the dark of night.
It is we that cower and pray.
Yet, how the heart leaps at their warrior cries
As they thunder on their way.

On stormy nights, when the Wild Hunt rides,
There is no balm that soothes.
But we watch the sky for the flash of their swords
And the thunder of their hooves.

Gail

Written by Gail Kavanagh

May 28, 2009 at 8:49 am

4 Responses

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  1. This is wonderful! I love it! I was a child who cowered through every storm imagining giants doing terrible giant doings. *smile*

    steph

    willingness

    May 28, 2009 at 2:06 pm

  2. Hey, I love this. It is dramatic and spell binding. I found myself holding my breath as I read.

    Vi

    woodnymph

    May 28, 2009 at 3:00 pm

  3. wonderful imagery and rhythm! A great read – esp. on a dark & stormy night!

    kvwordsmith

    May 29, 2009 at 12:56 pm

  4. so exciting
    …….

    Tabitha

    May 30, 2009 at 5:17 am


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