Category: Poetry

  • THE WAY OF THESE TIMES

    Reunion in a guest house in Kabul. Four years later you give me an Afghan carpet. Hand made in Herat. Roll it out by the fern frost window and sip green tea and tell me of your daughters the Way These Times have foiled their paths to school. And now the year splutters through Buhare…

  • Coronahaiku Sequence

        wiping handles & surfaces to protect myself from myself * * * a pair of magpies a pair of collared doves in separate trees * * * empty city street they walk hand in gloved hand two young men * * * daffodils pulled up by kids in the local park – I…

  • Camera Machete: Rwanda 2006

    The church at Nyamata is now a Rwandan Genocide Memorial, commemorating the deaths of the 50,000 people laid to rest in its grounds. Tinder dry, the marram road uncoils, clings to his skin, stains his hands red. He walks through swarm dust clouds to Nyamata, where a church lies flat, symmetrical, its geometry exact. The…

  • A Prayer Poem for You

        SOUL BLOSSOM A Life Enrichment Journal In the sky of my soul, there is a blossoming… APRIL 12, 2020 A PRAYER POEM FOR YOU Hope is an heirloom passed down the generations of souls in morning / mourning. A treasure shared between those on the simultaneous shores of pain and paradise. Hope whispers…

  • Fear

      Toronto Canada Fear What is fear? Fear can be many different things You may be worried of what comes in the future Scared of something in the present  Or haunted by something from your past When you are faced with fear what do you do  Do they Fight or flight Do they Panic or…

  • Rhymes and Ramblings, March 1st 2020, St David’s Day

    I felt the sun’s ‘warm touch’ on my left shoulder Outside, whilst working…was a bonus now I’m older! It served to remind me of jewels, still to unfold, The longer days, the relief from the cold… And, yet, daffodils nodded their yellow ‘Hello’ Mauve crocuses nestled beneath branches below. I beamed, as I walked on…

  • BETWEEN TWO UNKNOWNS by Ianthe

    Slooped from the slow hiss, Bombadee, bomp, Slip, shine, whine and chuckle. Tinkle, rattle, buzz and winkle, Slurp, burp, fart and stomp, With xylophone and whoopee whistle. …………………………………….. Emerging, raging, Question, riddle, Dance and rhythm, Snake and wriggle, Dodge and mark, hark and fumble, Into life’s loud world we rumble. ………………………………….. Stamping, marching,  Drums and…

  • MORNING PRACTICE

    Morning Practice (for Dónal C.) The leaves: I’m sweeping them but still they fall upon the steps and all along the path – I wonder if I’ll reach the boundary wall. The storm last night increased my brush’s haul, though for this rain they will say dhanyavaad, I’m sweeping up the leaves and still they fall. How…

  • MEMORIES

      MEMORIES [LEST WE FORGET] At night when all the house is still, I sometimes take my favourite briar, And one last pipe ere bedtime fill, Then fall to dreaming by the fire. The cosy room, the easy-chair Are left a hundred leagues behind, I’m with the old battalion where The cobbled roads of Flanders…

  • COMPASSION

    Amongst the flowers I am alone with my pot of wine drinking by myself; then lifting my cup I asked the moon to drink with me, its reflection and mine in the wine cup, just the three of us; then I sigh for the moon cannot drink, and my shadow goes emptily along with me…

  • DRINK YOUR TEA

    Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis  on which the world earth revolves  – slowly, evenly, without  rushing toward the future; Live the actual moment. Only this moment is life. Thich Nhat Hahn

  • Elsewhere

      Japan Shinbazu Pond – even these withered lotuses can lift my heart   heated toilet seat – memories of growing up in a large family   deep-fried pork: I await instructions on how to eat it   we look through the dark to the place where Mount Fuji is supposed to be   arrival…

  • ODE TO MANCHESTER

    The blood of Irish, Catholic immigrantsAnd Russian, Jewish refugeesFlows through the veins of this Buddhist nun,A seeker of wisdom, compassion and peace, Whose path has encircled the world and alightsNow in Edinburgh, where it has stayed.But my heart cries out for Manchester,For Manchester where I was made. And I weep to see your suffering,Caused by…

  • TO A POET A THOUSAND YEARS HENCE

    I who am dead a thousand years,     And wrote this sweet archaic song, Send you my words for messengers     The way I shall not pass along. I care not if you bridge the seas,     Or ride secure the cruel sky, Or build consummate palaces     Of metal or of masonry. But have you wine and music…

  • Remember

    Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand…

  • Maeve O’Sullivan.

    Morning Silence, haiku from Dónal Creedon’s Tullow Retreat, August 2018 discarded crisp bag: a faded Mr. Tayto still smiling *** talk about listening    I zone out for a bit *** walking meditation: you are moving slowly too little ladybird *** morning silence    the brewing coffee gurgles *** early drizzle creating a round stain in this…

  • Existence

      It is night. Rain pelts the roof. The soul awakens to a flooded Earth – a sea of storm  roaring, then passing. In that short moment, shirting lines and shapes, fleetingl barely seen. Before the passing moment tilts and falls to melancholy, laughter sojnds in quiet raindrops.              …