Blog Archives
Sun Set Sun Day
Happy Summer!
Though I’m Irish, and for me Summer started in May, making this MidSummer’s Day, logically, it seems that the astronomers around me disagree. Whatever.
Here’s a short poem I thought of a couple of Sundays ago, to make you think of the joy of these short nights.
Sunday Sunset
Other days we rush inside
From the porch, to prepare
Dinner, drinks and sit upon
Sofa to see a movie or TV; or
Drive to the city for dusk, but
.
Sunday is when we want to stay
Watching sunset and slipping
Off to bed when the bats and
Owls calling have taken over
From twilight blackbirds and
Nightingales, the last rays of
Sun replaced by moonbeams,
The gleam of glow worms when
Cicadas are silent to let crickets
Sing, as peace settles like aspen
Cotton in the stillness between
Breezes. Then sleep suggests itself
Until we rise again to catch the dawn.
Haikus and other short poems.
Here are some more short poems and haikus that I said I’d post.
I will add them to the poetry page, too.
I haven’t posted recently becuase I’ve been away at home in Ireland, where I don’t get much of a chance to write, or read.
Mostly, I drink tea and beer and chat.
And that’s great.
Of course, afterwards it would be nice to be able to have a holiday alone and catch up on stuff. But summer with the children is on the cards, so only a few hours a day to myself and my pen will be my lot.
I will get a few poems and some chapters of my work in progress, done, though. I swear!
Snowdrop
Early Snowdrop
Still Bows
To the braver bee
Speed
Cyclist careening down
Mountain, crouching under wind
Ignoring the sky.
Daisy
Dark lawn lays an extensive frame
For a tiny dot of pink:
First brave daisy bursting forth
To herald the blooming March of spring.
Drifting
April afternoon
Aspen seeds
Drifting.
Bedtime
Ignored, strangers sight excite –
Wife’s sleeping form,
Pulls powerfully, still.
Saved by Death
High on the corner of a Midwestern cornfield
A family cemetery stands firm, the last
Testament to a town wiped from memory,
Like the soil that once stood below it.
Spring Park, Pamplona
The hinds abide,
While the cockerels cry,
Drowned out by the peacocks.
Encapsulated
Narrow country road,
Hedgerow arches over,
Birdsong encloses.
The Birds of Summer
Swifts have disappeared,
Swallows are soon to follow;
Cuckoos long silent.
Rooks
Caged,
Crows’ calls
Echo
Open fields.
Sea Greeting
Surging up the sand,
Touching toes:
Gentle hello.
Original Sin
Originally,
Maybe our sin was seeing
Shame in nakedness.
On a Hilltop
Across silent landscape
Sounds
Reveal their source.
Spring poem, more distraction.
Aspen Drift
The downy seeds of aspen drift,
Dancing across the evening sun on
The wind from silvery shivering-leaved poplars,
Threaten to clog my mind full
From now till summer’s final winds
Sweep them out:
Stuck in the simple act of observation
Until autumn.
