Sunday, March 17, 2013

Top o' the Morning!

             And Happy St. Patrick's Day to You.

clip art painting of brick old weir bridge across the river

Allow me to introduce Poetry Ireland, an organization dedicated to developing, supporting and promoting poetry throughout Ireland. They produce two regular publications, Poetry Ireland Review and Poetry Ireland News. Both are well worth checking out, and there is much more on offer, so hop on over.

In the meantime, how about some poetry.
She wears the Sky

The horizon line embraces the drowsy river docks:
The deep peacock patch of water reaching the dark
Blends with it.
The hills pick up a saintly pallor
From the skin of one doing penitence.
The swallows linger on, as if they forgot.
I gaze into the sealed eyes of my mother,
Seen, not visited, not forgotten,
In the centre of her own picture,
Who wove her own background
With no Martha-work to be done,
As women look when they return to their places
Errorless after Communion.
In her rare low moods
She remembers the next five days as twelve
And compares an unheard of number of things
To be abreast of the incurable
Having no choice but to return
To the end of thought.
In the evenings I can switch the light on from indoors
To illuminate the shroud
Of irises over the urn of jasmine.

And may the saddest day of your future be no worse than the happiest day of your past.

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