He called me Seannachie....my oh my

He Called Me Seannachie

He called me Seannachie
thundered like gold
to ear untrained
yet breathed in
such sincerity
my ear not
looking away
Yes
he called me Seannachie
and she called me sage
I fear ruddy complexion
I do in truth
now wear
Seannachie
my
how it whispers
in flow
but yet pen I wield
no more than a sword
the sword of the
scribe
for that remains
who I am
a mere man with pen
clutched tightly in hand
I write to a sound
like a voice in my heart
I then scribe
my hearts dictate
command
quick and right
Seannachie
sage
such grand titles indeed
yet scribe oh so broken
and humble
I be
by the words that have
blessed me
invocation indeed
did dress me in new
these words standing
in beauty
arrayed in soft hue
I wear them
in solitude
as I pen at
wood desk
as a robe of enchantment
a worthy breastplate
and vest
I walk in
castle royalty
mantled in titles
as these
yet scribe more aptly
does paint me
for the author
is she
who bursts on my
insides
no warning signal
raised
as she blazes in firestorm
no mercy no praise
she shouts high and tall
speaks of lofty things
and such
she preaches from mountaintops
as she roars by the sea
she dictates her words
that she brands upon mine
so scribe remains me
while the writer
yes she
ah
but yet Seannachie
the sound
oh so golden to me
ah yes
Seannachie
undressed inside me

Rodney Evan Bohen