With my Irish heritage, I have always been interested in the pooka and decided to jot down a poem about it. I am rather proud of this one.
© Sara J. Bernhardt
In the darkness of the world,
Where shadows shift
And colors bleed.
Where no light can be found
For any nature of need.
The pooka rides high,
As the horse with red eyes,
The shifter of night
Heeds no love
And no cries.
When the Earth is hidden
In shadow,
One will see,
The dark puck wishes
For only you to follow.
Don’t wound the willows,
Or mame the innocent.
Don’t soil the waters,
That were graciously sent.
Keep calm with the rabbits,
Respect for the birds,
Keep safe from the serpent,
Heed only these words.
An ye harm none,
As the pooka demands.
And no harm will befall
Form the pan’s dark hands.
© Sara J. Bernhardt
In the darkness of the world,
Where shadows shift
And colors bleed.
Where no light can be found
For any nature of need.
The pooka rides high,
As the horse with red eyes,
The shifter of night
Heeds no love
And no cries.
When the Earth is hidden
In shadow,
One will see,
The dark puck wishes
For only you to follow.
Don’t wound the willows,
Or mame the innocent.
Don’t soil the waters,
That were graciously sent.
Keep calm with the rabbits,
Respect for the birds,
Keep safe from the serpent,
Heed only these words.
An ye harm none,
As the pooka demands.
And no harm will befall
Form the pan’s dark hands.