Qui êtes-vous qui venez de si loin, par monts et vallées, saluer le Roi?
Mummy trimmed my hair today
And cut my baby curls away,
But from the pile she rescued one
Which shone pale golden like the sun.
See the poet here before you
Bring to you his humble offering,
Like a shaman, spells creating,
Conjures visions with his magic.
Listen to the ancient heart beat,
Listen to the sacred legend
That our fathers told before us
Of the great millennium pow-wow.
In the days of Winter solstice
When the moon was at its brightest,
When the year its span had ended
And a thousand years were turning,
Came a great and mighty wonder
In the gentle land of Dorset.
All the tribes, their plains forsaking,
Upped their tents and packed their peace-pipes,
Packed their lap-tops and their mobiles,
Packed their Calvin Kleins and Guccis,
For the gathering of the wise ones,
For the great millenium pow-pow,
In the tee-pee of their fathers.
Over mountains, over rivers,
Over mighty, heaving oceans,
Through the air in silver eagles,
Came the braves in finest feathers,
With their squaws and wild papooses,
Wilder than the wildest horses.
In the folds of Burton Bradstock,
By the Great Sea, Shining Water,
Stood the wigwam of fair Celia,
Daughter of the Moon, fair Celia,
Celia of the clinking ice-cubes,
Celia of the clucking chickens,
Celia of the homeless hedgehogs,
Guardian of the tribal archives,
Heap big medicine for the ailing,
Generous host to weary travellers.
Through the rain and wind and torrents,
Came the tribes to Burton Bradstock,
Came the braves to Celia’s wigwam,
Came to honour family totem.
Came there too the lovely Sarah,
Scarlet Sarah, silver Sarah,
Dark-eyed beauty of the Fentons,
Worker of the precious metals,
Amulets and magic baubles,
Talismen and sacred beads.
Came she with her heartbeat Gavin,
Magic painter of the wigwams,
Gavin of the throbbing war drums,
Came they to the feast together.
Came there Jamie, youngest brother,
Loving son and thoughtful brave,
Fair of face and upright bearing,
Full of ardour and ambition,
Youthful Condor, on the up-stream
Of the city’s currents gliding.
Came he with the lovely Pippa,
Sweet of face and sweet of nature,
Came they to the feast together.
From the South, across the ocean,
With the poet came fair Judy,
Came his muse the lovely Judy,
Precious squaw and precious mother,
Green of fingers, true St Ouennais,
Guardian angel of his wigwam,
Came she with her poet husband,
Came they joyful to the meeting.
From the Islands in the Channel,
From the Land of Milk and Money,
Came the riders of St Martin,
Came the mighty Hellerbicky,
Swift of steed and firm of saddle,
Sharing both of brain and beauty,
Paddling in their red canoe,
Helier came with lovely Vicky.
From the far lands, from the heartlands
Of the gentle, rolling Midlands,
Came the great chief, heap big Richard,
Hair on face but bare of scalp,
Quick with saw and deft with hammer,
Building wigwam in the French lands,
Building with the Earth’s resources
From Prix Unic and B and Q.
Carried with him to the pow-pow,
Gracious Mo, the gentle teacher,
Gifted wielder of the needle,
Gros point Mo, the curtain maker,
Bonjour Mo, the baguette eater,
Big of heart and great of spirit,
Came she too unto the meeting.
From the wild and vast Meseta,
From the rolling, Spanish grasslands,
Like a wild goose, home returning,
Came the lovely, golden Bessy.
Came the favourite youngest daughter,
Came the ripple of her laughter,
Like the song of wind in birch trees,
Sunlight dancing on the water.
From the far lands of Down Under,
From the vast lands of Australia,
Came three Aussies, right way up,
Angela, Denise and Pat,
And from Worcester, Jo and Sophie,
All dear friends of great squaw Celia,
Welcome all to this great pow-wow.
Others, far off, could not journey,
Could not join the noble meeting.
From the Land of Long White Cloud,
Peter sent a loving greeting.
Sent a message from the Kiwis,
Furber, Thurston and Marie,
From his tee-pee sent smoke signals,
Sent the old familiar signals:
Peter Cummins, Slash, Dot, Com!
From the banks of flowing river,
From the gentle Thames near Oxford,
James, brave Norman, sends his greeting,
James and Lucy, sweetest daughter,
And their silver haired papooses,
Gentle Monty, boldest Barney,
Come in spirit to our feasting.
From the heart land of Apaches,
From Big Apple, just returning,
Lovely Carrie and her Nick
Send us, too, their fondest greeting.
Now the braves, all safely gathered,
Gathered from Earth’s farthest corner,
Light and smoke the healing peace-pipe,
Smoke the peace-pipe of affection.
In the centre of the pow-wow,
See the camp-fire brightly burning,
Flames and smoke to night sky flying,
Smoke and flames to stars ascending.
Spirits with the smoke arising,
Spirits of those gone before us,
Fathers, mothers, gentle spirits,
Great of heart, courageous, loving,
Fathers of our Fathers‘ Fathers,
Bring their presence and their blessing.
And for fear the sacred meaning
Of this great day be forgotten,
See within the burning embers
Visions of another wigwam,
Poorest of the poorest wigwams,
Visions of the mighty Magi,
Men of magic, men of wisdom,
Bearing gifts of mystic meaning,
Bow before a new-born infant,
Gentle Child of gentle Mother,
Born on Earth to be our Brother.
Great the joy and celebration
In the wigwam of their fathers,
Great the feasting, gay the dancing
To the drumming of the tom-toms,
Long the smoking of the peace-pipe,
Fast the draining of the wine-skins,
Loud the cries of jubilation
Through the great millennium pow-wow.
But see now the embers dying,
All the past consumed by fire.
All mistakes consigned to burning,
Anger with the sparks dispersing,
Envy cured and sloth dispelled
In that mighty healing time.
From the ashes, slowly rising,
Comes the Phoenix, Bird of Hope,
Graciously her tail extending,
Graciously her head uplifting,
Spirit of the Future rising,
Gathers all beneath her wings.
And across the night comes stealing,
Over valleys, over mountains,
Points of light, the dawn revealing,
Streaks of light, new life announcing,
Streams of light, the Sun proclaiming,
At the birthing of this day.
Solemnly, from mists ascending,
Slowly, from the plains dividing,
Comes the Sun, its rays extending,
Fountainhead of all life rising,
Red ball Sun, its warmth bestowing,
To the braves, all humbly kneeling,
To the braves, the future facing,
At the breaking of this day.
Over tree-tops, over house-tops,
Over gentle farm land passing,
Over sea and over river,
Comes the distant sound of church bells.
Hear the bells of Burton Bradstock,
Hear their joyful message pealing:
Peace and Hope to every nation,
And to us, along Life’s way,
Happiness, Good Health and Fortune
On this great Millennium Day!
Written by Aidan Smith and recited by Judy, Bessy and Aidan at the Millennium dinner held at Grove, Burton Bradstock on 31st December 1999.
You lie beside me in the morning light
Still held by sleep, your hand beneath your face.
The sky is pale, the day but half begun,
And in the stillness of the morning air
Lies promise of a golden summer day.
So fade the lilies, their miracle complete,
And all their baroque fantasies of form and scent
No ghosts upon the ripened summer air.
We lived their moment and that time was sweet.
More by stealth than all-out onslaught
Autumn has invested the garden.
Summer conjures up a brave face
But the unmistakeable signs
Are all around prevailing.
She was seated before me
The lines of her fair neck
Curving so gracefully
Down to golden shoulders.
But it was her long hair,
Which so distracted me.
From a thick auburn crown,
Three separate tresses
Set out resolutely
On their downward journey
To the small of her back,
In time to the music,
Now above, now below,
A rare relationship
Of three equal suitors,
Each lover approaching
The other obliquely
With the same strategy,
Now from left, now from right,
Each fusing finally,
Molten sand, copper, gold,
In the baroque coda
Of a black silk ribbon.
Written in St Gallen, Austria, during the music festival in Schloss Gallenstein.