The Remains of Alt Clut

There is no alternative to History, and they who write it, but 'the guess'...and that, as accurate as may be, is silent in avowal...as confessional. Merlin, The Mage...existed. He lived at a time when the Valley of Alt Clut, lay stretched in it's dominion...east to west across the wild of northern Scotland. The Kingdom was ruled, with an iron fist by one Rodderich Howl and his sons, from the promontory castle known as Alt Clut...seat of the Kingdom. Today, we know it as Dumbarton Rock, and Castle...situate in the upper Clyde River, and the Valley of Alt Clut, is now 'The Strathclyde'. This poem hints at days...long past, where Merlin ran against Rodderich, and payed the ultimate price. It hints, as well...at a recompense, justified of fate...that no bad thing can practice and prosper...forever.
There are numerous tales of Merlin. He was here...he was there...he was this...he was that...but of the truth, or for a fact...no one may ever know...so, here is my condensed version of a likelihood...as likely as the next. This poem is published, in advance of a future novel...that will reveal more.

Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016   Deming, New Mexico






Back in the forest...

yes, and rather glad to be...

just having now returned...

upon a quest, and glad are we,

as having...necessarily...to say,

apart from present company...

sadly...sore...a bit lame,

but none the less...

to wrest the chair of poetry,

from out the hand of he,

who would have snuffed the very candle...

from the alter of...the Orat'ry.

Here then...amid the trees,

In languor at ease,

in this true home.

A bit of rest is all one need...

what more, an hour...an age...

so, mote it be,

to whom, is thus...evermore.

Dear friend's explore...

the gore remains, of that foul suit...

that seat, Alt Clut...

just there...

in river head on yonder promontory.

Tell us what ye find,

that history may say...

tell it not, that we may deal with the lot,

in our own way...

it matter little for the telling...

as has always been,

for truth be skewered

of a three fold death...

again and.again and again...

and yet... we live...don't we.

We live...yet now, must rest...

go...find us what ye can.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016   Deming, New Mexico

Photo Credit: Geograph.org.uk, Dumbarton Rock: The Portcullis Arch