If you have a look at https://druidlife.wordpress.com/books/ – the page I’ve just added, you’ll find not only a pointer towards the Druidry and Meditation book, but also a poetry collection, which you can download for free. One of the reasons I am giving it away, is that it’s unspeakably hard to get poetry published, much less to find a paying market. This saddens me a considerable amount, but I feel the sharing is more important to me than the being paid for it.
Lost Bards and Dreamers has a lot of history around it. It was published for a while by Alpheratz Press, which did not survive as a house, sadly. Another long story there, but it isn’t mine to tell. Most of the poems were written for someone, or for a specific occasion. There were people I was teaching about Druidry, and sharing poems seemed to be a good way of doing that. There were also lines written for my child. Some of the poems from my ogham inspired collection landed here too.
While there’s some experimenting with form and structure, much of it is free verse, because I enjoy that more.
The cover was created for me by Tom Brown, my other and better half. It coincides with the transition from being working partners, to being romantically involved. The purple poppy design came first, and had been intended as a tattoo (still not had that done, maybe one day!). It’s the same image that I use on this blog, and the blog header comes from this book cover too.
The Lost Bards of the title, referred to Bards of the Lost Forest, the bardic gorsedd I was heavily involved with for some years. My fellow bards there were a huge inspiration to me, and I wanted to reflect that in my work.
I’m on the credits for this one as Brynneth Nimue – another sign of transition, moving away from the associations of the old surname, but not yet at the point of knowing I would take Tom’s name. We weren’t even in the same country even.
I’ve always written poetry. As a child I churned out that kind of fluffy, lightweight, observational stuff you might expect. I moved into the teenage angst years, with poetry as therapy. Gradually I became interested in trying to write something other people might want to read. I went through exactly the same process with prose, only quicker. There is only so much time you can spend writing fiction that is based on the self, before it gets painfully dull. Poetry is the same. It has to do more than bleed and vent. It has to take the bleeding, howling and flailing, the mess, and tease it out into something…. More.
If people like this one, I may collect up material I have on my hard drive and put together a second book, again with a view to giving it away.