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 Jul 2019 Sharon Flynn
Bardo
The tune you played it ran so sweetly
I was sure Time himself had stopped
    dead in his tracks to greet me
And let believe all the while my soul
    had been enslaved
Such was the relief to my heart that it
    gave;
Holier than the sight of monasteries
    crouched in secluded valleys
Sweeter than the song of the bird in
    the green Summer's tree
So sweet was it that it opened a
    thousand as yet unsavoured dreams
And had my mind rest easy on the
    cool wind
Which swept over their prosperous
    seas.

                              II

The tune you played brought calm
    upon a boisterous evening
Though Sorrow came to me
When I saw you finish and leave the
    centre stage
For I had thought I might live forever
    under your enchanting spell
Far from the world in peace and
    harmony
With Love kept, not left weeping
Far from the wakening hour
From that chore of modern empty
    living;
It was by far the sweetest tune
It released this fellow songbird from
    his cage
And it all seemed like glorious Heaven
    these brief moments spent
For he who had longed always to be
    free.

                                Translated from the
                                original Latin of
                                Emperor Nero circa
                                40 AD (his later
                                period).
Used to read old Irish poetry Thomas Moore, James Clarence Mangan. This was a kind of homage. The Nero bit was a joke.
 Jul 2019 Sharon Flynn
Kieran
Crashed upon your island of isolation,  
Delivered 2nd class by your ocean of emotion,
And directed by an eclipsed moon’s mind.
What treasures shall you find?

From the foam of a reddened sea
You’ll discover a bag of lies,

and me.
 Jul 2019 Sharon Flynn
rose
Loving you is living a dream
Kissing you is a fairytale
Touching you is breathtaking
Holding you is a moment frozen in time

Being loved by you is a dream come true
She asked,
' what's your poison '
I replied,
' you are '

The moon and I are old friends.
 Jul 2019 Sharon Flynn
Bardo
Once above my face the Sun did
  weave a joyous spell
And rested calmly upon the backs of
  the great stone Giants
Whose stance used bring early night
  to bear on these tired eyes of mine.
And the dutiful Moon too, did smile
  down
Reassuring me with her presence
Patrolling the dark heavens till the
  Dawn would order her away.
Down the wild slopes rode my
  children, brimming with life
Their blood ensuring my Youth
  forever, or so I thought.
Watching over their shadowy green
lanes, noble cedars and majestic pines
Vigilant watchtowers upholding our
  green faith:
Caressed the Bloom's feet I did and
  raced the drinker's pace
Precious memories slowly eroded as
  now in lonely exile I dwell.

First warning I got, carnage floating
  downstream
Severed trunks of trees and their
  stricken branches
Finally laid to rest upon the worm
  eaten lock gate -
Saw a mass exodus taking place,
  whole tribes on the move
Telling of trouble coming and of a
  world soon to disappear;
Pagan storms they brewed ominously
  overhead, their seed
Did burn my skin and burnt through
  the silver scales
Crippling the little fishes who'd bury themselves prematurely in that cold
  graveyard depth;
Those blissful birds too, that used eat
  out of my hand,
As my countenance grew steadily
  more gaunt and pale
They too, did decide to leave, seek
  food elsewhere.

And the ailing flower wishing the old
  days would return
As my ears they began to pick up a  new sound growing louder all the time
Gnawing away like a worm in my
  brain, the razor-toothed saw
Singing in the woods his eerie Death
  song
Leaving in his wake a grisly trail of
  ****** and mayhem.
My own days numbered then; I saw
  the savage leaders come
With their strange ideals and talk, of
  quotas profits and costs:
Who beside me built a Fortress, a
  sinister smoking structure -
O! those Dark forces it sent forth to
  finish me off
Looting and burning, laying waste my
  beautiful Kingdom
My exiled Spirit indeed, all there is now to tell of that terrible cost.
Environmental poem. The stone giants are the mountains around the lake, the children are the streams flowing into the lake, the tribes would refer to animal tribes. Although about a lake it reminds me also of a human soul.
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
Pagan Paul
.
Through a forest glade
and down a narrow path
there stands a sacred tree
with its heart torn in half.

Bramble clings to its trunk
ivy covers over its bark,
reaching up for the light
fighting against the dark.

Forgotten by the woods,
ignored in a crowded place,
for it yearns for attention,
just a little tender grace.



© Pagan Paul (27/06/19)
.
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
mike
my eyes adjusted to the dark last night
of the light that fades in, flickering
in the bathroom where i have spent my worst times
i saw disappointment in the mirror again
maybe someday i will learn moderation
and stop desperately trying to reach
the bottoms of cups and plates
maybe i will stop wanting to forget
someday,
maybe i will stop having to trace outlines
in the mirror of what i want to see
changing the shape of my jaw
parting my hair differently
part of a collection of poems that i am only just now making public

i have been sober for two years and four months
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
t
hush
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
t
no more speaking
i know you love to drown me in your words
but hush
breathe me in
let the silence fill the room like oxygen
embrace the nothing
let my lips tell silent stories
hold still and you may understand
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
Cné
Lipstick
 Jun 2019 Sharon Flynn
Cné
~
She leans over the sink
weight on her toes
to applied lipstick
in quick certain strokes,
the way a man signs
his hundredth signature
of the morning.

With lips of convictionless curvature
as the lipstick retracted like a red eel
all day she left her mark
on everything she kissed.
Even the air remarks
like intoxicating news
whispered from ear to ear.

~
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