POems & More
|
To Maria Sweete and benygne mother and maid (Medieval Poem)
Sweet and benign mother and maid, Turtledove true, flower of women all, Aurora bright, clear as the day, Noblest of hue, thus we you call; Lily fragrant eye of the valley Revived with bemys of glory In whom never was founded sin So fair, so good, was never non; Your place therefore transcends Angels all and saints each one; Next unto God, such is the grace. Lo, the mekenes thee did purchase me Ever in joy so to endure In the great land, oh princess pure. Surmounting is thin excellence, Thou rose of great value, thou flower of May like Phoebus in his rising plethoric of celestial there where you dwell for the eternity Lady without ... Read more » |
|
Evening Star
'Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, 'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me- There pass'd, as a shroud, A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart Is the proud part Thou bearest in Heaven at night, And more I admire Thy distant fire, Than that colder, lowly light.
...
Read more »
|
|
True Love
True love. Is it normal is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own? Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason, drawn randomly from millions but convinced it had to happen this way - in reward for what? For nothing. The light descends from nowhere. Why on these two and not on others? Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does. Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles, and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts. Look at the happy couple. Couldn't they at least try to hide it, fake a little depression for their friends' sake? Listen to them laughing - its an insult. The language they use - deceptively clear. And their little celebrations, rituals, the elaborate mutual routines - ... Read more » |
|
Come In
As I came to the edge of the woods, Thrush music -- hark! Now if it was dusk outside, Inside it was dark. Too dark in the woods for a bird By sleight of wing To better its perch for the night, Though it still could sing. The last of the light of the sun That had died in the west Still lived for one song more In a thrush's breast. Far in the pillared dark Thrush music went -- Almost like a call to come in To the dark and lament. But no, I was out for stars; I would not come in. I meant not even if asked; And I hadn't been.
...
Read more »
|
|
Extract (LIfe and Death)
"Well, there were two sisters who lived in a place called Mandouro. They lived on their own, in a bungalow left to them by their parents. From the house you could see the sea and all the ships leaving Europe bound for the South Seas. One sister was Life and the other, Death. They were two good girls, a pleasure to look at and be with." "The one called Death was pretty as well?" Dombodán asked with concern. "She was. Well, she was pretty, if a bit horse-like. The ... Read more » |
|
The big heart
Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father Dunne, and all in their short lives give to me repeatedly, in the way the sea places its many fingers on the shore, again and again and they know me, they help me unravel, they listen with ears made of conch shells, they speak back with the wine of the best region. They are my staff. They comfort me. They hear how the artery of my soul has been severed and soul is spurting out upon them, bleeding ... Read more » |
