At The Time

At The Time
Why is it in poetry, I'm always in a bind?
And why is it that I cannot tell, the thoughts upon my mind?
I see your smile as it does curl, so gentle on your lips,
And I tingle at the wispy thought, of your hands upon my hips.

My thinking's screwed as I sit here and I blame it all on you.
Though innocent of everything, you've sent me all askew.
These sneaky tremors I now endure, make me incomplete,
While all the time my common sense and breathless heart compete.

I drink my tea and watch the screen, and I try to concentrate
But all the while, I sit and smile, it's you I contemplate.
And all that work that should be done, those books I need to read,
They sit and stare, they're well aware; attention now they plead!

But while it lasts and my soul endures, I'll enjoy it while it soars,
And it if ever when it all comes down, and makes my heart bleed more,
I'll sit upon this thought of you, and thank the stars above,
For fleeting though this feeling is, I send it forth with love.

Warrior Princess

To Be Named

To Be Named

How old am I ? - Watch as I walk by,

How old am I?

I ask not what my age might be,

It's hidden from what mortal eye might see.

 

I have lived in many realms,

Returned in many dreams.

I have lived among the gods,

Never fought at any odds.

I have placed the life before the King,

Aeons for Him I did dance and sing. 

I have walked in many lands,

Been caressed by many hands.

I built Great Pyramids of Gold,

Their truth yet to be told.

I have plunged through wave and water high,

Such devastation seems now a lie.

I have watched the land sink beneath the wave,

From its grip, none could I save.

I have walked upon the clouds by night,

My song was heard, my face out of sight.

I have travelled through the portals of time,

Passing so freely the movement sublime.

Who am I of this Great Age?

Who am I this Quoting Sage?

I am She, who walked on soil,

While deep beneath brewed founts of oil.

I am She, who gave birth to Life,

I am She, the Great Earth's Wife.

I am She, the Eternal Lover,

Within my depths, a sphinx to uncover.

I am She,The Mighty Royal Mother,

From my womb came the Great Earth's Brother.

Upon this Earth I have made much toil,

Breathing life to sullen soil.

Look at me as I walk pass,

See my soul, my eyes are glass.

Within this gentle tomb of life,

Accusations of youth are rife.

Some can see my face serene,

Others see the flesh of porcelein.

I am She, of an age so old,

I am Time as my tale has told.

I am the grass beneath my feet,

I am the golden fields of wheat.

I am the moon, the sun, the stars,

I painted Venus, gave birth to Mars.

I am She, who from Legends flow,

I am Legends as Legends show. 

Warrior Princess

Thirteen Gone Past Thirty

Thirteen Gone Past Thirty

Oh my heart in pieces falls about by ears unheard,

It's silenced screams of years long passed; my soul within they scarred.

I think I feel but feel I think, too much of what is lost,

Left within the realms of youth, which in turn became the cost.

Oh lament of the wailing one, who upon the wall does sit,

Your sorrow with my own I swear, it ever well does fit.

As time grows old and youth more young,

My heart did seal my tongue.

And time it now has passed us by, never more is ours,

The tears that flowed are now no more than dew drops on the flowers.

Old time it waits for none of us, not young or ever old,

An incubus upon our dreams by night, our stories never told.

WarriorPrincess

The Clanrickard and Claregalway Castle

I love my family and I was thrilled many years ago on a visit to Westport House to discover that this dear old family of mine has got quite a lengthy history, dating back thousands of years.

We are of course, the Clanrickards, the Earls of Connaught and Ulster, honours bestowed upon us by none other than the infamous Henry VIII himself.

There are many, many references to the oul' Clan in the ancient Annals, but this is one of the easier to read references of them. And no, it's not in the Annals, it refers to one of our little oul' castles.

http://www.claregalwaycastle.com/history.htm

Newgrange

Following a visit to Newgrange and the surrounding mounds in Fourknocks, I wrote the following poem. Having visited a 'burial tomb' in its natural state and having just previously visiting Newgrange, I realised how wrong the archeologist had got it.

Newgrange was destroyed rather than rebuilt. My guide, a very close family friend, has lived in the area since childhood. He remembered the untouched mound and he also told a very sad tale of arrogance and ignorance. Newgrange is a testament to how an oversized ego can truly destroy a very precious monument. He had worked on the site and spoke from experience in regard to those 'professionals' who knew better.

The poem refers more to Fourknocks and less to Newgrange, except for the final verse, which truly does refer to the desecrated site, once held so sacred.

Newgrange

Cobwebs grow up on the wall,
In a corner, way up tall.
The roof half gone, the rain comes in,
Beside the puddles, the faeries sing.

The grass grows tall between the stones,
Beneath the ground lie ancient bones.
The moonlight glitters across the floor,
Softly wafting through the door.

The sun, the moon and a thousand stars,
Pluto, Venus and tiny Mars.
The bones below with a thousand tales,
For every star, a soul for sale.

Making magic the wee folk dance,
Across the dead they sing and prance.
Beneath the moon and stars by night,
Appearing heedless, for fear no fright.

A ghostly white, soft shimmering,
Above, around, this ancient ring.
Resting centuries undisturbed,
Meddled by man, the spirits perturbed.

All it now but a memory,
Stored up long in Them and Me.
Looks so strange to the opened eye,
The hooded past; the modern lie.

Warrior Princess

Crap Poetry

A few years back I was invited to participate in a poetry reading at the Newman Institute in Mayo. I was extremely nervous at the prospect of standing up and reading aloud to an unknown group. This poem was one which formed in my mind on the morning of the reading.

There were a few of us reading before the 'main act', some poet who I never heard of before (nor since) and who's name I fail to recall.

Alas, I read just previous to her. I was mortified to the max when I realised that she fell into the category of 'crap poetry'. Had this fact been ignored by those around me, this would not have been such a painful experience, however, it was not. I was congratulated for it many times, while over shoulders I received many glaring looks from our 'Honoured Guest'.

Crap Poetry

When I was in the library, I found a book,
And loving poetry, I took a look.
I found some good ones, and some bad
And some really crappy ones, that made me mad.

I sat and I read for about an hour,
Then went home for my tea, and a shower.
I painted my face and brushed my hair,
In front of the mirror, I practised with care. [pause]

My knees tremble, my hands shake,
And deep in my tummy, there's a nervous quake.
Finally it's time, my turn has come,
I stumble and fall and land on my bum.

So sat on my arse, I think of that book,
And printed within it, the crap that it took.
Now taking a stand, I take a deep breath,
Suddenly reading my poetry's no longer a threat.

In front of the room, I hide a small smile,
My tummy's stopped churning, at least for a while.
I'm still just a novice, so cut me come slack,
And always remember, the pro's who print crap!

Warrior Princess

The Writing on the Bookies Wall

One sunny afternoon as I sat in the car waiting for my younger brother to emerge from his then job in the bookies, I noticed two hand prints on the wall, as I sat there, this poem seeped into my mind and formed itself onto a nearby napkin.

The truth of their existence was not as morbid as my mind had projected. In fact I discovered they were put there by my brother's work colleague in a much less dramatic manner.

The Writing on the Bookies Wall

Two prints on the wall tell a tale,
Sweated and once slid they shine,
As he fell in despair grasping for the past,
But alas, it was not there
And to the ground he fell
Once again wishing; wishing for two hours lost
And the fortune within them.

Warrior Princess