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1.1k · Aug 2021
Nascence
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2021
.
Bright summer coastlines
Young women giddy with life
The sea wafting in
.
1.1k · Aug 2012
Haiku  ( forlorn )
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2012
Beach walking alone.
Never, short as Donegal strands,
Endless— without her.
1.1k · Jan 2015
Haiku (enchanter)
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
So easy falling,
Into deep chasm— her lips,
Only cost myself.
1.1k · Nov 2013
Love Similes
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
.
Her hair rushes like rain
As my eyes turn to stone,
Her beauty, it has no fame,
Like Brando is one great poet,
And Shakespeare, so underrated,
Her lips are like undiscovered flowers,
Opening into a mythic forest untrammeled,
Like footsteps reeling after light from beyond,
Her voice babbles as water caressing mute stones.
1.1k · Mar 2015
Haiku ( HP Pariah )
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
Once was a smug bug  .  .  .
Fancied himself some poet,
  .  .  .  Prissy dung beetle.
1.1k · Nov 2012
Maid of Moon and Glade
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2012
Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?
1.1k · Jul 2013
Haiku ( birthing )
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2013
Barren spaces breach—
Hot jeweled sun spotting cool earth,
  .  .  .  Solidarity of flowers.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
And speaking to the western wind,
In the sped and turning time of the revolving sky
As a top unwinding like a dropped fable;
He dreams of taking leave, unraveling the coil
Upending his foil
Of listless sights as daylight creeps one more tread
And sweet belief breaks down once again:
Days that are ******* like a sad hunt
When the tracker is bent
On tragic orchestrations that only lead to a duel . . .
Undoing, Oh must it be, "Must we fit?"
Let us know and get on with it.

In his bed the women are only dreams
Phantoms, iridescent sirens.

  .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .   ­ .


Yes! I am not King Lir, nor could ever be;
Am a child cast out, transfigured, remote
Innocent, prey to the white flaming truth
The growing down, that clothes my name
Inconsequential, sheathed with shame,
Polite, capricious, calamitous;
Empty of all, it is unanimous
Nor even the memory of ripeness
Invisible, a drop in the pool.

I am weary . . .  I am weary . . .
I shall whisper to the newborns when I am old.

Shall I build upon the strand?  Have swordplay with the sea?
I shall tear my hair, mutter to the moon, bury my wounded knees
I have heard the Selkies singing, sailing with the breeze.

I do not think they will give their skin to me.

I have known them gliding beyond the seventh wave.
I still hear them sing so sweetly, weaving sorrows, on my back
Carving the blue waters as the waves are turning black.

We come and go in cycles with the moon, as tidal waves
Seep and seethe, foam and heave, lone captains setting sail,
In folly with a capsize brimming, before our boat has been bailed.

              

                                        ­                     ­­                                               — after Elliot
* Poem in progress
1.1k · Nov 2015
Two Swans
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2015
( sonnet )*

The morning world in mist dissolves and under,
Towed to heaven, we, a plod below the death
Of clouds, sing mute, where they trumpet-glide
Flashing into peace.  Three-toed slabs, parched
Of orange, web the stars over the wine
Dark seas and chalk the churn and twining earth
Into gloaming.  In rapt stillness they,
Are import and income, parables,
Echoes of the innocent song sung to a spire,
Gilded hutches, to those who heap on brightness
Swans are brighter even more with blackest
Eyes, they pierce the silent shroud all starry.
I wish that we were like two swans my love,
Neck of nape, embracing without touch.
1.1k · Feb 2014
Delicious
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
Delicious is a word I save for you.
Chocolate comes close but feeds me only
Famine.  Your skin is blest three times,
Once for new redolence.  Bay leaved
To the core, you proffer memories
Which chamber the years in round rooms,
Opening freely into rouge galleries
Of spice.  Secondly, it is soft as summer
Water.  It draws itself toward touch
Like ripples skipping over a sweating pond,
Lapping its way towards the creamy shore.
The third gift of your skin is the colour
Of desired destination, an instrument
Which maps the mirror of a universe,
Because you are deckled with stars so heady,
You are wet smoke from drooling galaxies
And rose white fathoms of sky, they are pooling,
And pulling me with force so fulsome
As to be almost—
Tasteless.

                 The firm green bread of spring,
The blue blood of heaven and the milky
Sun, these are your flavours all intermingled,
And three piquant senses speak to my tongue;
I smell, I touch, I taste— you are,
Delicious.
1.1k · May 2015
Paper Stars
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
Scraps in an alley
Crumpled throwaways their stars
What is left of them
1.1k · Mar 2017
Under Blue Mountain
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2017
.
Ravens scatter outside my pain.
A throw of die against the winters

First snow and the window needs cleaning,
Maybe later.  The running glass

Is watery and after I make love
With you, I wake to the severing light

That is always silent.  The phone
Does not ring, as my cat has told me

Many times, let us play she says,
The way it used to be under

The red wood beams on the hard wood
Floors, you would cry in that vacancy.

Though we lived in a one bedroom
Unfurnished, I called it a dance hall

And we danced silly tangos.  I tried
To lift you then, but now outside

My window, ravens dervish and never
Fly in formation, under blue mountain.
1.1k · Jan 2015
Senryū ( soul prayer )
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
I shall hold on dear  .  .  .
To all loved ones so sincere,
  .  .  .  Another New Year!
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
All eyes were witness,
To supernatural ball,
  .  .  .  Light embracing her.
Ball: 1  : a large formal gathering for social dancing 2  : a very pleasant  experience : a good time < everyone had a ball at the wedding.                                              

Ball Lightening: a rare form of lightning consisting of luminous ***** that may move along solid objects or float in the air
1.1k · Jan 2013
In Our Bed
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
Times tackle on the threads.
We beat the strand seahorse
Dashed, unfurl the curling
Toes, your body twists
In the boat, only ribs
From the spirit waters.  
Your fish fins from the net,
My rod pins on the pine
And the hooked meat, your barb,
Reels as it plays the swampy
Moan of the gutted bait.
1.1k · Jan 2013
Haiku (predations)
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
Earth sweats— man in heat,
Caught by third degree planet,
  .  .  .  Hot Venus flytrap.
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
Little dull birdies  .  .  .
Love own songs by mirror pond,
  .  .  .  Graceful swan sails by.


Hello Poetry  .  .  .
Rube lords with simple vainness,                                                        ­­              
Watch him crown himself.


Hello Poetry  .  .  .
Day sullies night, bright vanity
  .  .  .  Rube is a poser.


Hello poetry  .  .  .
Even vain rube's bio drains,
Spews self promotion.


Here is Pantheon  .  .  .
Dabblers, self aggrandizers,
  .  .  .  What a hollow hall.
Hello Poetasters,
vanity Reeks
mediocrity shines on HP
1.1k · May 2016
Zz Eucharist
Seán Mac Falls May 2016
Lost chalice is found
Blood whines of creation cupped
Deep in the flower
1.1k · Apr 2016
Widower
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2016
Last hill at sundown
Old man picks mountain lilies
Lone pine in distance
1.1k · Jun 2015
Zz Reptiles
1.1k · Jul 2015
Sequoia
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2015
Evergreen tree,
Burning red bushels
Of bark, branches open,
Cloud robed against, beyond
The mighty blue mountains,
Sage colour, rages of green,
Teems immortal as the sun,
Where great eagles landing
To nest in the towering
Chapel of a giant body
Adorn, what was always
Regal, everlasting, true,
Spiraling to the citadels
Of the swirling heavens
And even your crown,
A thrusting spire.
1.1k · Sep 2013
Loves Long Lost
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2013
Third had grace, loveliest, angels face,
Second had music and long, lithest form,
The first was a lark, one amorous affair,
All three are now but phantasm, dream,
The forests dark, memory— lost to me.
1.1k · Jan 2017
Circe
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2017
( Sonnet )*

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2019
.

1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”
.
1.1k · Nov 2012
Haiku ( nymph )
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2012
At pond she undressed,
Clothes fell as joyful sun rose,
Blushing— twice naked.
1.1k · Apr 2014
In Our Bed
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2014
Times tackle on the threads.
We beat the strand seahorse
Dashed, unfurl the curling
Toes, your body twists
In the boat, only ribs
From the spirit waters.  
Your fish fins from the net,
My rod pins on the pine
And the hooked meat, your barb,
Reels as it plays the swampy
Moan of the gutted bait.
1.1k · Jun 2012
When Senses Run
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
When senses run together, dull in the rack  
Of night, it’s Chaos who culls true meaning.
He mocks the light of day in paradox  
Sings: ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on.’
The ****** end, embodies the souls watery  
Beginning, and so the beating star is all
Intermingled; until flesh and fibers are done,
Thus: ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on.’
Though mighty Jove, who beat the antique world
Down, cast poor Agamemnon his fate, it’s
Helen of Troy whose aisling breaks like doom,  
All from the strain of Leda and the Swan.  
For, ‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on,
And our little life is rounded with a sleep.’
1.1k · Mar 2014
Haiku ( seeing )
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
I never saw eyes,
Like hers, now we walk together,
Lake water sparkles.
1.1k · Jun 2016
Zz Bracing
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2016
Old gnarled branches
Fingers clutch knuckles to cold
Apple tree in snows
1.1k · Oct 2014
Night Meadow ( Sonnet )
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Under the primrose stars, the lovers
Lie abed, on green, threadbare croft
Of sleeping daisy, clover and moss,
Trails with hushed air, an embroidery
So fine as to stitch blushing heart fall
And wrap the waters full of stillness
In graces, winding, soft, granulating
Time, wings flutter and hum, winsome
Sparks, fire white, flying as little suns
Burst confetti, in sweet encampment,
Of grass and sapling wood, innocents,
Charmed are wholly twining, in moon
Rise a lantern to the winking heavens,
Out of their skins they are climbing.
1.1k · May 2013
Blueberry Picking
Seán Mac Falls May 2013
Blueberry picking was no chore.
In the hoary-head of blue things,
Stuff was easy, and ripe for the picking,
Bunching blue-baubles in baskets over-ripened
Of berries.   On special mornings, due southwest
In lazy hills, round my home, — bells  
Were breaking, in quiet sections of the Canton,
Massachusetts woods, and playing by them,
We rounded blue notes, some friends and I,  
Plucked-out tunes to the breeze, on leafy-
Instruments, and pulled our weight, into moil-moisted  
Bushels, (one batch of blue was more than a ton  
Of any other fruit!)  
Toiling, till the sky would peek  
And spill its hue.  Foragers were we, as teaming
Minnows round a polk-a-dot reef, feasting on some great  
Blue-Fin’s roe, brave savages, painted in the glow of ember-
Light, of burnished yellows, and bushy-blanched browns
Drenched by dew and dappled in the stipple
Of sun-brushed fire, all the colours making patterns, even  
Box Turtles knew.   How merry it was we made our labors,
Why it was wicked!  And muggy from the heat of cool  
Indigo stars, we squenched our thirst, in glugs  
Of kisses, each following the greatest by far,  
And one soft day, we did notice the crown
Of a Princess, set on top of each full  
Noble-blooded faery-pearl dropped
As if to commemorate all  
The things that were worth  
Knowing, stuff that was ripe,  
Easy, and rapt
In blue.
1.1k · Mar 2013
I Will Not Die For You
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2013
I will not die for you
Woman fey of flesh and home,
I linger but to see you unfrock
The holy, set rogues to roam.

Why should I thus be consumed
In breath like coldest fire?
Shape of rising waterfalls
That state, I surely do not desire

The downy *******, the runny skin,
Spark of cheek, notes of hair in shower,
The gliding step, the gusty tone,
Fools have died for much less a dower.

The lancing pools, the hemlock mien,
The highland sheen, the dawn-bird voice,
The Safire eye, over step of pyramid
Merlin gave Arthur a safer choice.

I will not drown for you,
Flood of hair, red as the lye
In parted Jordan, that sea, not me,
Shall pine as ever, slowly dying.

Your healing humors, your subtle sovereignty,
Your blood, noble as seven-seas are blue,
Little mirror who paints the sky,
Though nearly, I will not die for you.
1.1k · Oct 2014
Haiku ( schoolyard )
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Small HP playground,
So many Godawful writers,
  .  .  .  Recess is over.
1.1k · Jan 2016
Sweet Spot
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2016
O what pleasures here
Deep down in her drowning ***
Joy wells echoing
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
Your lips, soft and full,
Are tearing at my heart.
Your skin, freckled and bumped,
Is at play with my palms.
Your eyes, of water and stone
Rain, storming like fists of hail.
Your *******, are blooms, pouring
Like white chocolate cupped.
Your hair, is a loom even
Penelope could not weave.
Your little feet, are drumming
Like puddles by the sea.
Your thighs, make me mutter
And sigh into the winds.
I will, not go wondering now
For whom is master and who
Is slave, are you the Morgen
Or are you Fand my gentle
Ocean wave?  Your voice
Is song, your breath is air
And your pooling, marbled
Face, torso, hair, how they beckon
And your words, gifting melody,
Such words must be forbidden.
Red Colleen (cailín rua dearg)
ag Ormond
Do liopaí, bog agus go hiomlán,
An bhfuil tearing ar mo chroí.
Do craiceann, bricíneach agus bumped,
An bhfuil ag súgradh le mo palms.
Do chuid súl, ar uisce agus cloch
Rain, storming cosúil le fists na clocha sneachta.
Tá do *******, blooms, pouring
Cosúil le seacláid bhán Cuasoisre.
Do chuid gruaige, is fiú loom
Ní fhéadfadh Penelope weave.
Do dhá choisín, ag drumadóireacht
Cosúil le locháin ag na farraige.
Do thighs, a dhéanamh mutter dom
Agus osna isteach gaotha.
Ní bheidh mé, dul wondering anois
A bhfuil an mháistir agus a
Is daor, tá tú ag an Morgen
Nó tá Fand tú mo mhín
Aigéan toinne? do ghlór
An bhfuil amhrán, tá do anáil haer
Agus do comhthiomsú, marbled
Aghaidh, torso, gruaig, conas beckon
Agus do chuid focal, gifting séis,
Ní mór focail den sórt sin a thoirmeasc.
1.1k · Mar 2017
Zz Dissolution
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2017
.
*Through filmy window
I saw her leave the last time
My hand on the pane
1.1k · Nov 2013
To Pablo Neruda
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
Dear Pablo, as I look over
my soaking body, wet, with patches
of dirt, blotched and raw bleeding,
the clouds turn in my yellowed eyes
in order to love you, my Pablo.  
You, who made me feel radiant.  
As I am the sea,  I fish for you,
rolling in mud, and becoming
mountain, I topple for your toes
who'd dig in deep and itch my aching

breast to sleep.  My dreamful-drowsy
birds, rake the skies, rush-out like nets
wanting you on their wings, my poem.
Pablo, I loved you so when you said,
my flowers were little stars to pick,
and that loneliness was a train who waits
in a far-away station, and how, my most
minuscule attributes — a cat, a pear,
the atom, you praised, in odes, heaped
like showers hailed from heaven, as fresh-

water you reigned from the other side
of tears, and temper'd my salt, my green,
murky life.  Dearest Pablo, since you've gone,
my breath has the emptiness that hides under
stone.  And the blue-winds crossing, my life-
less age, they are nothing but long waves,
keening,   —  Nay   —  rood   —   ahhh!
Since you have left me.  And my trees,
they forget how to grow,
my song, my only,
Pablo.
1.1k · Jun 2014
Haiku (ethereal)
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2014
Hair reigns, scent of her,
She sleeps late by a window,
Morning meadow sun.
1.1k · Jun 2016
Heron Preys
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2016
.
The heron spreads his wings and preys.
His stony stand a beachhead sloughing
The salt sea, a sepulchered wading.

Leaven the broken bred, unshell
The teeming waters, a fisher of mermen
Unlordly low this lying father,
His wings are palms,

His rock a mount, his wings a bay,
And deafness, tears in the outer shores
And exaulted seas the forgiven waves,

Swells the briny blood and kelp.
Vains are streaming to the fisher king,
Lordy he lands the lying father
His wings are psalms.

A tiny flood that arcs the sky
Marks lord in miniature, a King
Fisher flies, His wings are
The waters calmed.

The otters bask and preen, mermen
Jostle in the laddered rays of the sun
They mark their surf, insouciant play,

Wavering the fisher of men, he sways,
Simply they circle in song singing hours,
Dancing as do the murmuring waves,
Their strokes are psalms.
1.1k · Oct 2013
Ode to the Harp
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2013
Winged caterpillar
That frees my soul,
Sets my mind to dreaming,
How the hand of man
Out plays the God,
Makes love
To its master.
With fondled fingers, you paint
A dumb firmament, the way
Light dazzles as it breaks
Or how the itching rain
Taps a teasing melody as it falls
To the lover ground.

Beloved of Orpheus
Whose wove you coiled in-
Vents a garment of bird song loom,
Content my breath
The way that water wells
And lolls into puddles
Nesting not before the hot,
Harpy steam.

O melodious pool,
Undulating lake, frame
To emotive vapours, without
Ship you ply in wakes.
The oarsman plucks the main,
Your body is the sail,
Drunkard winds and warblers,
Blow hard, but fail my ears,
Atone as well, the wretched sounds of day
For they are sour spells, and but a fools
Trash canned movements, in a state
So needy of weeding,
Mere sound is soiled
The way you rake.

Evolution spreads,
As stones do,
When moves the river bed,
Grace, in violence,
Sparkles as it blooms,
Like an ears creation—
Rose on the tomb.
1.1k · Jul 2014
Flood
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2014
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
  .  .  .  Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
1.1k · Aug 2014
Haiku ( Elysian )
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
Simple times with her,
Cut facets of bliss eternal,
  .  .  .  Hot gems of Eden.
1.1k · Nov 2013
Anatomy of a Mermaid
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2013
Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.
1.1k · Mar 2015
Zz Blooming Friends
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
Yellow rose she gave
Sorrow, happiness and joy
Meant just for friendship
1.1k · Sep 2012
Ocean View Cemetery
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2012
Who said cemeteries are for the dead?
For those who celebrate such silence
A commotion’s something too.
Crow about the stones, smeared by sun  
All gawking formal and sharply dressed, rung  
A black congregation that drilled and sermoned  
My ears down to coffin nails beneath  
My feet, a voice that hung the wanting
Waves.   

And over head I saw the braised yearling  
Eagle bobbing past the undivided sun,  
Who tottled about the sky in circles out  
Of center, a wearing down of gear
Churning with the grave
Bruising birds, that spoke  
And wheeled over dusty  
Stones.  

Sea spray, leaning trees, slant  
Of cloud, spilt green grass of one  
Sided mosses all pointing which was to be —
The way,  

And leaving there, I saw the sign and it read:  
    ‘Ocean View Cemetery,’
Opens at sunrise —
Closes at sunset.
1.1k · Feb 2014
My Ruby Looks On Stones
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
While amber stars are flashing in her mien,
She forges facets with her eyes and mines
A rocky grave.  To bear as such, the sun
Un-sung, she could caul parhelion to dust
And still doom to shadow those fireworks
She alone ignites.  Here then lies a truth;
My ruby looks on stones to see the light.
1.0k · Jun 2012
Sea Green Valley
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
All the valleys, green, rumpled
And cresting in their April dress
And all the creatures who live under,
They wade and stroke and dive,
I live high above in my light house,
Watching the ocean waves.
1.0k · Jul 2012
Rua
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2012
Rua
Dearg,
Rua, roselet,
Gruaige na fíniúna agus scarlet
Fíonchaora, drown me i do deoch
As liopaí, fíona, Ruby, flesh an paisean
Torthaí agus adharc de neart,
Earthen meirge de pebbled cré
Tarraing mé mar uisce seeping
Isteach uiscígh ársa, ualaithe, i bhfolach
Faoi vastness Sahára
Sands. Tá mé scamall de aisling
Drifting, itching, edging chomh maith do chothromú
Hills. Do ******* sruthán mé mar gaile,
Tá do chluasa le haghaidh doves neadaithe
Agus do shúile, tá an spéir ag fanacht, cogaíochta
Le farraige, le haghaidh a dath,
Is é an ghrian wandering strainséir
Mar a thiteann sé, dar críoch gach lá, faded
Mar an fathach gásach de Antares faint,
Eclipsed ag do heavenly
Foirm, do lasair Vulcan
An tsolais.
Rua  ( Red )

Red,
Rua, roselet,
Hair of vine and scarlet
Grapes, drown me in your drink
Of lips, of wine, ruby, flesh of passion
Fruit and horn of plenty,
Earthen rust of pebbled clay
Draw me in as the water seeping
Into ancient aquifers, laden, hidden
Under the vastness of Sahara
Sands. I am a cloud of dream
Drifting, itching, edging along your rounded
Hills. Your ******* burn as I steam,
Your ears are for nesting doves
And your eyes, the sky is waiting, warring
With ocean, for its colour, 
The wandering sun is a stranger
As it falls, ending each day, faded
As the gaseous giant of faint Antares,
Eclipsed by your heavenly
Form, your Vulcan flame
Of light.
1.0k · Jul 2013
Haiku ( frogging )
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2013
Bull frog in fish pond—
Loud, one day I heard last croak,
Raccoon washing hands.
1.0k · Aug 2013
Heathen Hosanna
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
I have come to the temple
Of your body.  I kneel and prey
Like a sinner.  The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances.  Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.
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