HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!

St Pat's

May your day be filled with love and laughter

and may all your dreams come true

 may it be what you’re runnin’ after

is the best thing ever for you.

Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona ~ Happy St. Patrick’s Day ~ RG

17 The Paddy Settriskele.2

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Ireland’s Shore

Happy St. Patrick's Day!Before I ever visited Ireland, I wrote a poem about it. This was many years before I sat foot on Ireland’s Shore.  The irony of this poem is that it came to me in a dream, and the ending is very much how I felt when I left Ireland twenty years later. My children drew my back to America, but Ireland calls to me still.

 

Is féidir teacht ar do aisling fíor. – May your dreams come true. – RG

Ireland’s Shore

 

Warm fire upon the ocean

Cool stars up in the sky

Arms reach out to enfold her

Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.

 

Strong oak all but forgotten

Ghosts on the barren, rock strewn land

Call her name, but just a whisper

Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.

 

Soft mist entwines the cliffs

The harp sounds low and sweet

Whispers echoed by pipe and flute

Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.

 

Pulsing tempo of the music

Her heart quickens to the beat

Sings to her a song of yearning

Draw her near to Ireland’s shore.

Bards and poets call to her

Their voices plead incessantly

Stir the longings of her soul

Ever nearer to Ireland’s shore.

 

Firm earth beneath her feet

This moment long awaited

Standing on ancestral ground

Finally reaching Ireland’s shore.

 

She feels the ages light a flame

The passion flows, in her ancestral blood

Tales of ancient days

Hold her fast to Ireland’s shore.

 

Bright the dawn, sad the morn

Tears course and tear her soul

She bids farewell with one last glance

So disappears Ireland’s shore.

© Ireland’s Shore – copywrite – RG Calkins 1978

W. B. Yeats

WB YeatsMore than a few years back, I visited Ireland. While there, we stumbled upon the churchyard where W. B. Yeats is buried. I love graveyards and this was one of the most unique I’ve ever explored. But, enough about that.

My post today is in celebration of one of my favorite poets–W. B. Yeats. And, in particular, a favorite poem of mine.

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that dropp their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.

William Butler Yeats
dancing fairies w.child

Besides the poem, I also wanted to provide a musical version of it. 12 The Stolen Child This is by The Waterboys, and has a place in my St. Patrick’s Day playlist.

Mise I dán agus ceol ~ Yours in poem and music ~ RG

To Rhyme, or not to Rhyme-Do you have poetic tendencies?

I’ve been having a bout of poetry lately. It may not be a real illness, but my brain wants to rhyme, or not, and it happens at odd times. I’ve taken to carrying a notebook around in case something pops in my head while I’m doing laundry.

I’m not prepared to share any of my latest regurgitations at this time. However, I will–in the future. I like to let my poetry stew a little, then I go back and look at it again. I’ll take it to one of my critique groups. When I feel it’s ready to be viewed by the public, you’ll see it.

poe

Poe is one of my favorite poets. I like his stories too. Yes, creepy. Yes, weird. Yes, I’m demented. Maybe that’s why my latest issue has been on the dark side. Get ready-bwahahahaha.

What I’d really like to know is if any of you have poetic tendencies?

I would love to see a haiku or a few rhyming couplets or free verse posted in comments.

Come on. You can do it.

Serious or silly.

If you do, I will too ~ RG

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