A Tribute To King Ailill Poem by Ailill Ailill

Ailill, Avalon’s cattle king,
did I know it would be your name
of which I would sing?
When with your alias I made
my claim for fame.

Immortalized by Druid poets
of the Ulster cycle, your spirit
lives on like King Arthur’s sword,
Excalibur in the folklore
and culture of the Celtic people.

Owner of the white horned magical
bull Fen, a cause of war, Fen
was once a member of the race
of men, losing his way, through betrayal.

A king to your last days, then treated
like prey, haunted, chased over
hill and dale, and killed by Cern
Conall, due to the treachery
of taking another lover,
invoking the ire of Queen Medb, her
jealousy, ruler of heart and head.

How have you transfigured my soul
with the poetry that you wrote,
when my pen was at your behest
instilling your wishes upon my chest?

Upon the stage of life,
how many acts can we acquire?
comedy, tragedy, Ironic satire.

Are the roles we play really our own?
or are we as the aborigines say,
our ancestors, skin and bones?