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663 · Apr 2015
Light is Caught in Rings
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2015
.
Stark blue suns are her eyes,
Set in the redden cosmos of breaking hair,
Light is caught in rings
And broke are mine as they shy from heat;
The cauldron of spheres,
That rope in the twines of constellations.

In fractals of tearing blood;
Which stream in a body so like heavens,
She plays with sprung time
And the arrow of reason is forced beyond,
Into the eyes unknowing;
How the flesh is shorn in the cloths of stars.

Such cold fire in those eyes,
Neutron blue is the inert crush of gravity;
Unloosed with surrender
And in a field of meteors lies the alchemy;
Crash of rarified metals,
She smelts of iridium blast, casts into soul.

Her eys are for makings,
Planets collide to form creations dream;
To bury sorrows in rock,
As it flows up from an orb into her mantle;
A plateau of cloud for man,
To reach birth of light, christen in goddess.
663 · Dec 2016
Zz Starry Eyes
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2016
.
*No words were uttered
First ******* under stars
All eyes saying yes
663 · Jan 2013
Haiku ( tableau )
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
Three evergreen trees,
Left of snow spotted mountains,
Paint perfect picture.
663 · Oct 2014
Haiku ( crushing )
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Drops of heavy rain,
Seabirds tearing with the skies,
  .  .  .  So small without her.
663 · Mar 2014
Fardels
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
Grafted birds in uproar—
And grey moorlands a fog,
The cacophony of orders,
Even turned earth a slog.

Highest heavens, all one,
Seeing with truthful eyes,
Black and white eagle—
Dispenses the blue skies.
663 · May 2016
Zz Enlightened
Seán Mac Falls May 2016
Exposed kneeling roots
Graceful boughs of ancient tree
Buddha in the sun
662 · Jun 2012
Falling Water
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
Gone are my friends,
The red panda, is now sleeping,
The snow monkeys have moved
Lower, down on white mountain
And the trees have disrobed for bed,
I walk through the snow and hear
The icicles growing in the wind,
Around the bend I meet a new friend,
A shining, secret waterfall.
662 · Aug 2014
Haiku ( redundant )
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
I brought her flowers  .  .  .
Around us meadows in bloom,
  .  .  .  My gift offered late.
662 · Dec 2013
Love Broke Down
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2013
Slight words and mumbles
Mount, quiet walks together,
Arriving places unwelcomed,
Cooking for one in a kitchen
Together, over filling glasses
Of wine and wordless smiles,
Leftover stories, stale company
Endless invites for new friends,
Road trips without bend, song,
The black comedy of dull, plain,
Platitudinous days.
661 · May 2012
Sonnet On Her Birthday
Seán Mac Falls May 2012
( for Síneánn )

Sound softly hung, she spoke, gave birth to place;
And there, found him closed in, frozen, shivering.
Her dawn light hands gently warmed his face;
His winter room sweetly broke into the spring.
After darkness died he felt strange bonds again;
Birds chimed, flew by, and the walls fell away.
Locked in her arms the turning world grew open;
His eyes nestled in the light her joy had made
And with her temperance swelled his weary eyes;
This was the day of her birth, Venus by the seas
And lonely air was steeping, the ground set aside
His tabled world was now a feral garden green.
In countenance with only grace she lies,
With mere touch turned his ceiling into sky.
661 · Jan 2016
5 Supernatural
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2016
( Haiku )*

1
Autumn Burns

Fall of memories
Past potentialities
All the red lit leaves


2
Crowning

At end of all days
Sky is regal vermillion
Mellow is the sun


3
Sweet Spot

O what pleasures here
Deep down in her drowning ***
Joy wells echoing


4
Verdancy

Temptations glisten
Wants of youth burn in the sun
In moist grass growing


5
Bird Song

Speaking in God tongues
Sprite melodies in mid air
Leaved bushes burning
661 · Apr 2017
Dear Swan
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2017
.
To saunter through the chiming world,
Downy and white, a cloud burst wafted,
Fresh as the sight of a newborn furled,
A glimpse for mortals gazing gods lofted.

How lovely a way to sail through world,
By streaming to seas or wondrously land,
Fresh as the wave that breaks and curls,
To come from airs breezing from heavens.
661 · Oct 2015
Siren
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2015
Dark pillory lips
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly
Quick strands of red hair
660 · Feb 2016
Crow in the Sun
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
Crow in the sun so black,
You are blue, a dark shining
On the green innocent lawn.

Crow in the sun creeping,
On land you are awkward,
In the sky you are blotting.

Crow in the laze of the day,
Your eyes are unbalancing
In the gardens overgrown.

Crow in the sun so black,
You are shimmering dread,
On the green unkept lawns.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2014
I hear echoes that have no voice,
Sad before the vaulted tongues
Over brimmed, who spill on shunted ears
The sour milk of pressed pictures
And sooted lights of lime
And the golden knobs taste
Jarring-dry to their saw dust toes.
Must the babe be chosen
By its mother?

The sea dirt is lined with woolen shawls
And the chasm shout shall dig our graves,
Throated hollow, to the abyss, we sink our six
And ***** the dirt, call not them the spades.


I hear echoes that have no choice,
But to skim the moated land
And wash well eyes with leaven walls
That tease and **** the sum to crushing
Columns lifted shoulder
High by zeros of kneeling numbers
Worming in bedded slumber.
Must the maker of builders
Be dismantled?

*The sea dirt is lined with woolen shawls
And the chasm shout shall dig our graves,
Throated hollow, to the abyss, we sink our six
And ***** the dirt, call not them the spades.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2012
I hear echoes that have no voice,
Sad before the vaulted tongues
Over brimmed, who spill on shunted ears
The sour milk of pressed pictures
And sooted lights of lime
And the golden knobs taste
Jarring-dry to their saw dust toes.
Must the babe be chosen
By its mother?

The sea dirt is lined with woolen shawls
And the chasm shout shall dig our graves,
Throated hollow, to the abyss, we sink our six
And ***** the dirt, call not them the spades.


I hear echoes that have no choice,
But to skim the moated land
And wash well eyes with leaven walls
That tease and **** the sum to crushing
Columns lifted shoulder
High by zeros of kneeling numbers
Worming in bedded slumber.
Must the maker of builders
Be dismantled?

*The sea dirt is lined with woolen shawls
And the chasm shout shall dig our graves,
Throated hollow, to the abyss, we sink our six
And ***** the dirt, call not them the spades.
660 · Mar 2013
Haiku ( tableau )
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2013
Three evergreen trees,
Left of snow spotted mountains,
Paint perfect picture.
659 · May 2013
Boatman Under Mountains
Seán Mac Falls May 2013
My hands are raw and cracked like wind and wood,
My arms, they sway and dance all day in my boat,
My neck is sore from watching you, above me play,
You, great mountains of tree and stone, give me hope.
659 · Jan 2013
November Gift
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
The frost, sets in and leaves of red have fallen.
And a cold sun beads on the stiffening ground,
Nimbus clouds, snows of down, now wafted in,
Tagging sun become louder, as ripples on pond
Are waging white with grey, dabbing the tableau,
That nature is painting with a pair of wild swans.
659 · Aug 2017
Love Doomed
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2017
.
One dream shall ever die,
Words promised only said,
Two gold rings tossing ayes
By gleems of moon we laid,
So gentle was strike of time,
Cruel night conquering day.
.
659 · Oct 2015
9 Epiphanies
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2015
( nine haiku )


1
Quintessences

In prisms of light
Different colours of truth
Rainbow perfections



2
Cold Clears

All in stark light falls
Memories stirred with the colds
Wind in autumn leaves



3
Godlike

Bashful light blooming
Lovers in morning meadow
Brighter than new sun



4
Love Harmonies

Flowers' colour sounds
Song of birds, buzzing bees, all
Notes of creation



5
Time Vain

Popularity
Such fleeting and hollow wins
Spoonfuls of nothings



6
Widower

Last hill at sundown
Old man picks mountain lilies
Lone pine in distance



7
Metanoia

Out of soul sameness
Dark daze blur of obsession
Comes bright transcendence



8
Pole Star

Autumn falling leaves
Dull winter merely blows in
Brighter sun beckons



9
Looking Back

Gold light caps mountains
Regrets fade as melting snows
Moon slice in the sun
659 · Feb 2015
Touch
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
When she touches me, I feel her touching
Herself, though she circles my shape into
Oneness, I sometimes feel— detached
Within those arms.  
                                   In her startled-fall
To sleep, imperceptibly, she gathers
The room from her vexing childhood.  
Drawing the air and curling in waves—
My hair, as if she were weaving some kind
Of shelter.

When I touch her, it is with desire.
My reach untangles the very dream
Which took thirty five years of dull
Existence to unmuddle— to imagine,
My soul's other.

                         Ten fingers envelop her body
Like splits of lightning— rippling skyward
From wholly, bone-dun-desert, floor and there,
In that rose-journey of unbridled touch,
The shock of thunder makes a mother
Of the sky.  
                     When she breaks her water
The blighted earth that was sung— given
My name, becomes her light, awakening
Child.
658 · Feb 2014
Zz Haiku ( chaotic )
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
Four crows, black on cloud,
Dark, sordid wings parry and ******—
Murdering white skies.
658 · Dec 2013
Haiku ( coldness )
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2013
One last winter walk—
Little clouds falling all round,
Snowfields between us.
658 · Aug 2015
Water and Fire
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2015
Born of fire, your body burned under mine.
The slip shod friction kindled in the bliss.
Blue flames flashing and water dowsing time,
Smoke, my wave, moon seas, lighted sands kiss.
Blue and cold my eyes set, seizing treasure,
Your flaming hair a bed, my boat was wrecked.
A sea of glass and all the stars were measured;
Red on white, your skin was cinder flecked.
Flames were raining, **** the waters break;
Two bodies burned that night, fire on the lake.
658 · Aug 2013
Flower
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Dressing the day,
Beaming purely, on bankers
Hours, spinning such fine, spine
Wheel ways, painting the stones
Of grey, never so faraway, showing
Mighty, mirth in maddest Midgard,
Bearing blooms dizzily, trailing
All the new, children who play,
Pick and count, humming with faces
Bright as the late bedding stars
Joyous in the offered cheers
Of the crowning sun, gifts
All, in endless amount.
658 · Jan 2013
Haiku (madonna)
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
From salt bath she rose,
Pure white towel her raiment,
Babe in swaddling clothes.
657 · Apr 2014
Heron Preys
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2014
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.
657 · Mar 2015
Winter Strike
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
Loose feathers all round
Bird never saw spring coming
Paw prints in the snow
657 · Sep 2015
Zz Autumn Godsend
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2015
Golden apples fall
Birds sing praises to the sun
Boughs under heaven
657 · Oct 2013
Haiku ( siren )
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2013
Dark, pillory lips,
Deep mournful eyes— fires fly,
Quick strands of red hair.
657 · Feb 2014
Downpour
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2014
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******,
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
657 · Dec 2014
The Falcon
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
Falcon rise— yellow racing eyes,
Blue wraith that rakes the skies,
Never has one fared such beauty,
Airs naught wholly bright as thee.

Is there a kneel for end of days—
Songs, deeds for those who prey?
Is there light breaking pied wings,
Or is heaven overlord to all things?

Sun spots feathering coated crest,
Talons top spires mountain breast,
When rivers of the wind fail all fowl,
What grace and splendour in a cowl?

Is there a psalm in the wailing winds,
A hymn that carries all innocent sins,
Or a fable, blue as stupendous skies,
A truest place where redemption lies?

The sea slides with lost ocean birds
And blue wings coast, row unheard,
Edging the skies with razors' tinge,
Seeding the immortal spark begins.

Falcon rise— yellow racing eyes,
Blue wraith that rakes the skies,
Never has one fared such beauty,
Naught airs wholly bright as thee.


                  — *after William Blake
657 · Mar 2014
When Senses Run
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
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.’
657 · Aug 2013
Haiku ( vehemence )
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Sparkling veins, eyes cast,
Thunder bolts from darkling skies,
Night and day— blinded.
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
The Weekly Poet
Misspelled his own site should be:
'The Weakly Poet!
Weekly Poet site aka beryldov aka 'The Weakly Poet,' custom made site for HP sychophants made for loving each other, hear ( Beryl Dov ) love his/herself,
PHONEY, rigged, pathetic !
656 · Nov 2014
Smoked in Poppyhead
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
We drove to wild poppy fields,
Lost and open under the sun,
To picnic in solemn, spent wonder,
And celebrate new found love.

Gentle rain came blowing in—
The sky painted a clouded mood,
And old mist rose in lighted heat
A gentle sheet of covering dark.

We then broke down to take leave,
Our lent time was now dead—
There under the cathedral of sun,
Our love smoked in poppyhead.
Poppyhead: a raised ornament often in the form of a finial generally used on the tops of the upright ends of seats in Gothic churches.
656 · Aug 2013
Bogman
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Ruddy and worn,
Dusted by turf and salt,
Sun rose cheeked and blue
Clouded eye spurt in a gait
Ended by mute journeys and toil.
He breaks the long day with a shove
As the old pocked door is waiting to be
Opened.  At the crowning stand of the bar
He orders his Craic, some froth of tar, his black
Medicinal and when the tales of tall pints grow, sinking,
Live, flickering light slows and smoulders, shoulders with moist
Embers of smoke trailing by with an impromptu céilí and all is brilliant,
Blind, awful and right, cast in the sprite, spirited dance of the verbal swirlings.
"Craic", or "crack", is a term for news, gossip, fun, entertainment, and enjoyable conversation, particularly prominent in Ireland.  It is often used with the definite article – the craic. The word has an unusual history; the English crack was borrowed into Irish as craic in the mid-20th century and the Irish spelling was then reborrowed into English.  Under either spelling, the term has great cultural currency and significance in Ireland.

In modern usage, a céilidh or ceilidh ( pronounced: kay-lee ) is a traditional Gaelic social gathering, which usually involves playing Gaelic folk music and dancing. It originated in Ireland and Scotland, but is now common throughout the Irish and Scottish diasporas. In Irish it is spelt céilí.
655 · Dec 2015
Síneánn
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2015
( sha-neen )*

I am alone with you.
A fire burns in the distance,
It lights our faces
As before in the empty cinema,
Where we arrived, at some beginning,
To watch a foreign film. Our eyes,
In new utterance, murmuring subtitles,  
What words could never speak,
The tips of seats, rows of air
And the moony screen,
A tableau of feathers and cloud,
Two of us, alone, as one,
Rapt in the spread of wings.

Later, alone we dine in the Café  
Campagne. Our conversation  
Deafens a burgeoning crowd,
Coffee was nectar, our words  
Were whispering petals.
Dearest Blodeuwedd, I saw the sweetest  
Sorrow on your face, the green ocean
In your eyes, I was cleansed  
By your tears.  I have always
Known you.

Across the border on the far island,
You stepped into the waters with me
And when you disrobed you lit the stars
And the stars and my eyes kissed your skin,
Your slender legs, columns, tilting
Toward heaven, in the age of Helen,
Touched the water and the sky,
I saw the milky way that night.

Síneánn, I am your Pablo,
We are two white birds sailing
Over the foam of the sea.
Solvent to my stone, you are the hinge
To my casement world.  Rain petal
Voice, lithe, alabaster woman,
I am lost in your Sargasso eyes,
I hold your skin, my Selkie,
Sweet Niamh, I have lived  
One hundred years this week.

It is warm in the distance,
In the country of the sun,
We end at the house in Umbria,
In the autumn, there is no word
Siberia, my light Rosaleen.
Now is harvest time.  
At the great table we feast  
With family and friends  
And I am not alone with you.
Blodeuwedd is the Welsh Goddess of spring created from flowers.  In the late Christianized myth, She was created by the great magicians Math and Gwydion to be Lleu's mate, in response to a curse pronounced by his mother that he would never have a wife from any race then on the Earth. They fashioned Blodeuwedd from flowers and breathed life into Her.  In Welsh, blodeuwedd, meaning "Flower-face", is a name for the owl.

She represents temporary beauty and the bright blooming that must come full circle through death: She is the promise of autumn visible in spring.

Pronunciation: bluh DIE weth ("th" as in "weather")  Alternate spellings: Blodeuedd, Blodewedd.


Selkies (also known as silkies or selchies) are mythological creatures found in Faroese,Icelandic, Irish, and Scottish folklore. The word derives from earlier Scots selich, (from Old English seolh meaning seal). Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The legend apparently originated on the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
.
655 · Dec 2012
Haiku ( vivify )
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2012
She rose to greet me,
Flowing hair, sparkle eyes spoke,
Poem before words.
655 · Apr 2013
Haiku (demigoddess)
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2013
She wakes, eyes open,
Rainbow scent of ambrosia—
First light of morning.
655 · Jun 2015
Fields of Bloom
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2015
( Sonnet )*

My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.

Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!

But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,

How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.
655 · Mar 2013
Zz Haiku ( arousal )
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2013
Wine, spinning, we dine,
Candles and moon making love,
.  .  .  Sparkle in her eyes.
655 · Feb 2013
Haiku (redemption)
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2013
A cloud from heaven,
One swan on a lonesome lake,
   .  .  .  All that ever falls.
654 · Oct 2013
Mornings Welcomed
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2013
Light rising—
Covers in a feathered sheet
As the news of bright birds,
Flash and colour, the palms
Of leaves, are beading with
Peaking sun.  I hear you stir
As I roll, so much language
In silences, so many hearts
In blended breaths, when
We are blanketed solely
In rich golden rays
Of birthing days
Dawning.
654 · Aug 2014
In Garden Fields
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
Robins spike morning lawns,
Pulling from the moist earth,
Bobbing and rigging new oil
Skinned worms took topside
And butterflies dart hovering,
Swirling eddies over flowers
On this windless day, sailing
In search of colourful spots
On which to land, sparrows
Are nesting above the frays,
Winging with fresh supplies
Building bases about twigs,
Tufts and twine, canvassing
The nailed on house shelters
Left for them, finches, yellow
Headed come in, cheerfully
Raiding the red apple buds
Before trees are even laden
And flowers are out in force
As the rapacious humming
Birds thrusting their rapiers,
Lash all the hearts blooming.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2017
.
1
In the corner stands
My blue guitar,
Mirrors my grimace.


2
I have played you
So like dream was the dear song
Where you playing me?


3
Your body makes mine
Shudder as I imagine
A woman in my arms.


4
At the top of your body
Are keys unwound at the ready,
Silver spirals of tunings.


5
My soul is near hollow
But the blue guitar
Is filling in the foundations.


6
What makes the blue guitar
So shining in the mundane,
All the world is makeshift.


7
My fingers wet with you,
What water sounds like,
As it kisses the earth.


8
Deep in the strings
I summon my being,
Always blue as sheer sky.


9
Blue guitar, silent, singing,
My fingers ***** your neck,
Never do you scream.


10
Once I heard music,
The sweetest tabulations
Of sorrows in rosewood.


11
My fingers ache on steel,
These are your moved guts,
Strings that I borrow.


12
At an open window,
All the day obtuse,
I hear birds in your vibrations,
Untouched air of blue guitar.


13
I do not know anything,
Music is lathed on an open fret,
The heart is beating to a note of bliss,
Hole set in the body braced by wood,
Time cuts as it is sectioned, a staff fires,
All the chords are listed in primes,
Is the ear a window or is the eye,
Blind in the choral songs we make,
All things are ephemeral, wonderings,
Variations we work as structure fades,
As the blue guitar is touched, turning light.
.
654 · Nov 2012
Haiku ( jilted )
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2012
I gave ocean pearls,
Her answer was no— blue firs,
Hold, cold water beads.
653 · Dec 2016
Pine Tree
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2016
.
Some branches of broken horn
Called to me, as most others
Were rungs, the trunk, a great pole
For one to vault, into the heavens
Where was perched a wild nest
Of a red-tailed hawk, at the top
I could see the great bird, once
Was there, upon his cloud throne
And all the woods and ripples
With the lake, in dear murmurings
Played for me to soundly hear
The waves lap onto the shores
Under my flight and the lighted
Breeze that sifted through needles
And the sap that patched me there
Out on the limbs of my swaying
Daze.  
          O to sail in the scented sun
Of the great old pine of tinted
Sage and black tall bark, to be
Nestled in the forests on high
Within its mystery and wisdom,
All the way up I rose, the journey
Earthward was so much harder.
653 · Aug 2012
Downpour
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2012
Rain, thumping down,
Pressing grey prints,
Ocean, tears the sky,
Drowning with drinks
Of blue eye and salt
Taste, rude earthling
Song, takes too long.
Must I go on walking,
In gurgle paths spray,
Soaked, silted, ******,
Drabs colours running
In days raging of rain?
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