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One day I sat alone drinking a pint,
My a mhuirnin arriving this mornin'
I said I'd greet her and then spend the day
Stroll'an' watch all the ships come to harbor

Her ship was due in from Dublin today,
She'd gone home for to bury her father,
And though she loved him she weren't feelin' grey,
He'd left her mom alone at the alter,

So there I sat, her ship taking its time,
A little red lark sung above me,
And then it landed, much to my surprise,
On my shoulder just ever so gently

I didn't move I just marveled in place,
The small clever lark sung on my shoulder,
And then from tweets to words slowly I heard
My dear love's voice come out of the small bird

My dear I don't have time
To ask how you are
God gave me but only a moment
To say I love you and don't waste your time
My ship won't ever make it to harbor.

I didnt know just quite what I should say
I was feeling a mix of emotions
I had no reason to doubt this small bird
But if so then my heart surely'd be broke,

My dear I can see you
Can't quite understand
I've died and I've gone on to heaven
In time you'll see
I've done all that I can
And have found yourself a new a mhuirnin

Then back to songs that bird's beak did return,
I couldn't help but shaking and bawling,
But as it flew off It left me a plume,
And I still keep that feather right on me.

In time I found love again,
Calling my name,
And boy did he say it so sweetly,
But every morning I still hear her song
My little red lark singing above me.
a mhuirnin - My dear love

This poem was written as lyrics to the Irish traditional song "Little Red Lark" from the perspective of an American-Irish person.
Nickolas J McKee Mar 2021
Let me die in your arms,
As I take my last breath.
So jovial of charms,
Like the first day we met.
True of time I missed you,
Nights crying of you gone.
My lost heart to you grew,
While angels cry a song.
Least not you forget me,
Your eyes knowing mine dark.
Feared above not to see,
Flying high a sad lark.
...Death close to your dear chest,
I will take my last breath...
Abner Ros Nov 2020
The pail hurriedly fills to its brim
From a gushing river, pure and deep.
Unsullied by the chrysanthemums and lilies
Which encircle the babbling brook.

‘Almost full!’ proclaims the Lark
Perched atop an aged oak,
As the wet trickles down the bail,
‘Soon, soon, soon’ he sings his song.

Down flutters the Owl with a hoot,
‘What say you, Lark?’
‘With your songs so sweet and pail bursting,’
Feathered talons grasp the neighbouring birch.

The tinkling warble resumes,
‘Not yet full!’ the Lark weeps,
In a melodic trill.
‘Still. More must be filled.’

Amidst the river stones and collapsed trunks,
The pail sits, engulfed in the serene.
O'er the vessel the Owl hovers,
As talons clutch the sopping bail.

Suddenly, the jaws separate, delivering a soft hoot;
‘To be bursting is no more complete than to be hollow’,
Warns the venerable Owl with its warm,
Serrated feathers surrounding its pale face.

‘Well, when shall I quit?’ asks the Lark in a daze,
Raising its beak to the Heavens.

‘You shan’t quit. For we all strive to be full.’
Asserts the Owl, bathed in divine light,
‘The water shall forever drip in this stream, as it shall drip in you.’
As he ascends in a flurry, the pail too flies,
Splashing upon the adjacent foliage,

Now it rests
    Neither full nor empty.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
There was an old poet named Mark
Who loved to steal walks in the park.
One day he was frightened,
A big dog did bite him.
He does nothing more on a lark.
5/29/2018 - Poetry form: Limerick - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Viseract Jan 2019
We are the people of the broken
With words we've left unspoken
We died when we tried to live
We've nothing left to give
We threw it all away

The rain came racing from the storm
On divided lands, reborn
I saw the Sun again
She smiled and showed her face
Then grew shy and turned away

The clouds above let fall the sharps
The hail fell and killed the lark
I saw a puff of smoke
Then felt the death of hope
And knew something was, gone

I see it all the time
Every scar and every line
Every claw and every fight

And everybody knew
But no-one was to move
And overcast the night took bloom

We are the people of the broken
With words we've left unspoken
We died when we tried to live
We've nothing left to give
And that was a mistake

I felt a shadow on my shoulder
And felt the night grow colder
I could see clear as day
The resolution in her face
She couldn't stand the pain

A hand of anger gripped my soul
And I knew, for it was old
I'd felt this way before
Every time I left that door
My old friend Rage, I bring you forth!

We are the people of the broken
With words we've left unspoken
We died when we tried to live
We've nothing left to give
So we dig under our skin

A shallow smile upon my flesh
Red and tan, nice and fresh
Because it hurts to be glad
When all elements make you mad
And you're left to pick the trash

It burns to feel the cold.
Netted by it we've been, sold
Just another failed escape
Another rearing snake
Another goose to chase

I know how old this all becomes
For years now, I've grown numb
Opened traps and screaming pipes
This garden of delight
Easy kindling, set alight

The past comes up to go down
Painted clowns to hide the frown
I'm sick of this circus
Totally ******* worthless
Clueless to my hurting

And oh the beating heart of hate
Fuels the lungs of twisted fate
And now I'm finally free
Rid my mind from toxicity
I am human, watch me, bleed

We are the people of the broken
With words we've left unspoken
We died when we tried to live
I can't seem to give a ****
And now I've finally hit "**** it"!

I am a member of the broken
My battle scars prove that I'm hopeless
I wish all my pain today
Could finally be erased
Without me digging my own grave

I wish all my pain today
Could be left in yesterday
So I can finally get my way
Pyrrha Jan 2019
He didn't know the love she had
Buried beneath her skin
Held behind the bars of her rib cage
Her heart was there, burning with desire
Beating within was the song of love sung by a lark

Alas, he couldn't hear it
From the surface he only saw an expressionless doll
He never listened to her when she tried to sing to him
That deafening sound that refused to please him

So instead of being left with a song
Destined to drive her to madness
She released the lark within

But that boy couldn't let her go
Tortured by the thoughts of her
Haunted by the memory of her
He defiled their trust

She could no longer stay silent as she planned
So she opened her mouth and told him
He was not a man
She hurt his pride and didn't mind

Her lark returned
But that pretty bird was consumed by rage
Her heart now burned with a different flame
Pagan Paul Aug 2018
The larks playing on a summer breeze,
and finches darting in betwixt the trees,
my mind is enthralled by what it sees.

A lark lands on my shoulder,
and it sang to me a secret,
I would love to tell it to you,
but I promised I would keep it.

© Pagan Paul (15/08/18)
for my muse ;-)
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