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Poems
Alisdaire OCaoimph Mar 2011
Bardic Rhapsody
Alisdaire OCaoimph
Mar 2011
Welcome Stranger come and hear
the words that draw the heavens near
and listen to it's breeze that blows from the East
of whose Ancient cast melody tames Man and Beast.
For Tis a song so old that time has forgot
the writer of its winds wherein it's Lyrics are caught
But it's secrets may be heard and it's power felt
within the heart and mind of a truthful Celt.
For its words though obscure hold the greatest key
for all the descendants to come and see
The place where verse and rhyme equate with time
to show man's greatness and his crime.
Tis a place where all may come to Ken
the song Of the Bard over Hill and Glen
Tis a song of Being, Of Life's joy and its pain
O'Blissful tender passions and tortures mournful slain.
Tis a Journey back into the past,a relic of times gone
and yet a journey into the future, O'Life's greatest song
So Welcome stranger into a World of verbal fantasy
and to the inspirations of this Bardic Rhapsody.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
the words that draw the heavens near
and listen to it's breeze that blows from the East
of whose Ancient cast melody tames Man and Beast.
For Tis a song so old that time has forgot
the writer of its winds wherein it's Lyrics are caught
But it's secrets may be heard and it's power felt
within the heart and mind of a truthful Celt.
For its words though obscure hold the greatest key
for all the descendants to come and see
The place where verse and rhyme equate with time
to show man's greatness and his crime.
Tis a place where all may come to Ken
the song Of the Bard over Hill and Glen
Tis a song of Being, Of Life's joy and its pain
O'Blissful tender passions and tortures mournful slain.
Tis a Journey back into the past,a relic of times gone
and yet a journey into the future, O'Life's greatest song
So Welcome stranger into a World of verbal fantasy
and to the inspirations of this Bardic Rhapsody.
Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Eavan Boland Nov 2010
My Country in Darkness
After the wolves and before the elms
the bardic order ended in Ireland.
Only a few remained to continue
a dead art in a dying land:
This is a man
on the road from Youghal to Cahirmoyle.
He has no comfort, no food and no future.
He has no fire to recite his friendless measures by.
His riddles and flatteries will have no reward.
His patrons sheath their swords in Flanders and Madrid.
Reader of poems, lover of poetry—
in case you thought this was a gentle art
follow this man on a moonless night
to the wretched bed he will have to make:
The Gaelic world stretches out under a hawthorn tree
and burns in the rain. This is its home,
its last frail shelter. All of it—
Limerick, the Wild Geese and what went before—
falters into cadence before he sleeps:
He shuts his eyes. Darkness falls on it.
the bardic order ended in Ireland.
Only a few remained to continue
a dead art in a dying land:
This is a man
on the road from Youghal to Cahirmoyle.
He has no comfort, no food and no future.
He has no fire to recite his friendless measures by.
His riddles and flatteries will have no reward.
His patrons sheath their swords in Flanders and Madrid.
Reader of poems, lover of poetry—
in case you thought this was a gentle art
follow this man on a moonless night
to the wretched bed he will have to make:
The Gaelic world stretches out under a hawthorn tree
and burns in the rain. This is its home,
its last frail shelter. All of it—
Limerick, the Wild Geese and what went before—
falters into cadence before he sleeps:
He shuts his eyes. Darkness falls on it.
Lori Jean
Feb 2011
Are his sins so great to justify the harm?
Are your hands so clean and white to
Ridicule; alarm?
Was your time so wisely spent
To spew your words of hate?
Will your judgment passify
the hurt that you create?
Is your throne so golden
To stand above the rest?
Do you feel a victory
To shame, to crush, to jest?
Do your means enthrall the lack
of something you hold dear?
Does your “court of justice” claim
support of comrades who live here?
Did you think before you tied
The knot upon the noose?
Do the stains upon your soul
Justify your truth?
If you can answer “yes” to these,
I shall kiss your feet alone
For you started the trial
Fanned the flames
The conclusions, you shall own.
If you cannot answer “yes” to these,
You’d best leave well enough, alone
Abandon reckless disregard,
And abdicate your drones.
Are your hands so clean and white to
Ridicule; alarm?
Was your time so wisely spent
To spew your words of hate?
Will your judgment passify
the hurt that you create?
Is your throne so golden
To stand above the rest?
Do you feel a victory
To shame, to crush, to jest?
Do your means enthrall the lack
of something you hold dear?
Does your “court of justice” claim
support of comrades who live here?
Did you think before you tied
The knot upon the noose?
Do the stains upon your soul
Justify your truth?
If you can answer “yes” to these,
I shall kiss your feet alone
For you started the trial
Fanned the flames
The conclusions, you shall own.
If you cannot answer “yes” to these,
You’d best leave well enough, alone
Abandon reckless disregard,
And abdicate your drones.
In response to The Court Of Bardic Justice, Case #1; Poet Accused.
Lori Jean Vance 02/11/2011
Lori Jean Vance 02/11/2011