Irish Internet Radio and TV from Dublin, Ireland.
This one from Egan O Rahilly.......1700 a well educated scribe and poet,was forced to leave his native country Kerry and live in poor
conditions some twentymiles west.this poem reflects the agony of his disposession by the oppressors.
Without flocks or cattle or the curved horns
Of cattle, in drenching night without sleep
My five wits on the famous uproar
Of the wave toss like ships
And I cry for boyhood,long before
Winkle and dogfish had defiled my lips.
O if he lived, the prince who sheltered me
And his company who gave me entry
On the river of the Laune,
Whose royalty stood sentry
Over intricate harbors,I and my own
Would not be desolate in Dermot`s country.
Fierce McCarthy Mor whose friends were welcome,
McCarthy of the Lee a slave of late,
McCarthy of Kenturk whose blood
Has dried underfoot:
Of all my princes not a single word-
Irrevocable silence ails my heart.
My heart shrinks in me ,my heart ails
That every hawk and royal hawk is lost;
From Cashel to the far sea
Their birthright is dispersed
Far and near,night and day,by robbery
And ransack,every town oppressed.
Take warning,wave,take warning,crown of the sea
I, O,Rahilly-witless from your discords-
Were Spanish sails again afloat
And rescue on our tides,
Would force this outcry down your wild throat,
Would make you swallow these Atlantic words.
Man of the North
My thoughts opened a door this morning and there you were, standing with poem in hand. So -- I rushed to this discussion to see did we really connect in the mystical realm of poetry? And there it was . . . The Picture That Is You.
Power is always concentrated! Just so this exquisite piece. The hand of the poet is in the story, touching the face of his love, saying what every woman loved would want to hear. I enjoy and celebrate this poem. It induced me to share a piece that I wrote many years ago, when my wife and I had our first child. I was getting ready to go to Vietnam, we had two weeks before we would be separated and I was cherishing every moment with Mary Ann.
By Frank Daub (1969)
Putting up the wash again
one wooden clothes pin gripped
tightly in her lips, my Mary Ann,
on toe tips,
blond hair wind whipped
dangling in her eyes,
the sun an apricot surprise
on the back of her legs.
All busy hanging clothes
and watching in the yard
to see the baby lulling in the doze
My perennial loving Guard.
Dia dhuit a Felicia,
Poem like yours make someones analize
the miss of their life sometimes to short
And not understanding the importance of it,
Mother`s love for child,is a need,
So is water to a tree,and sun to nature,
Poem description is exquisite Felicia,
Taking time to appreciate,child and life,
And miss all the love that`s passing by,
A good reminder of our wealth on earth.
Thank you for sharing Felicia.....