"aran" poems
The timeless waves, bright, sifting, broken glass,
Came dazzling around, into the rocks,
Came glinting, sifting from the Americas
To possess Aran. Or did Aran rush
to throw wide arms of rock around a tide
That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?
Did sea define the land or land the sea?
Each drew new meaning from the waves' collision.
Sea broke on land to full identity.
26.5k
b'ęránko bà p'égbá nigbò, kiniun lolori wøn
b'ęiyę p'øgøfa l'ødan așa l'øga gbogbo wøn
b'øba p'ęgbęrun laiye, ønirisha ni baba wøn
b'obinrin ti pøto laiye, iwø motunrayo ni mø yan layo
ifę rę n'pa mi bi øti
oyi ifę rę n'kømi o mu mi lotutu
gbogbo ara mi ngbøn bi ęni w'ędo
b'oba føwø rę kanmi , arami aya gaga
ololufe mi apønbeepore
o'nfa øfun ni kij'ęran pe lęnu,
ohun mi k'in wa ę m'øya , irinajo niøję
nișęju ișęju løkan mi fa si ę
ololufęmi abęfę, ibadi aran awęlęwa
ęwa rę tan bi mønamana
otan kaari aiye, omu imøle wasayemi
ofimi løkan bale, aiya mi o ja ęru o si bamimø
ifę rę mumi rinri ajo ayø
omumi de ebute idunnu ati alafia
mowoke modupę løwø eledua
to semilanu nigba ti mo șe awari ifę rę
bi ewe ba pę Lara oșę, a ma d'øșę
ekurø lala b'aku ęwa
bi inu ba șè șì, aworan rę lowa ni bę.
iwø ni monifę julø .
mawo ariwo øja rara.
mașe da awøn ęlętan løhun
iru ifę wa yii lowu wøn
ifę at'oke l'atørun wa.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 5:42 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Born a boy; now a man of men.
A son of Omu-Aran becoming the
Bishop of the world, who his mom
Nurtured and cultured by his granny.
A benign brook belittled yesterday
Has turned to a blessed flowing sea;
Small molehill becomes an Everest
In the sight of many a jeering enemy.
Bishop, God called to ascendancy
By favour: getting glory from grace.
To make his humble name legendary,
Heaven did set him apart for the race.
David Oyedepo, like David the king,
Is truly "a man after God's heart":
Of his goodness and love does he sing;
His passion he has from the very start.
Jesus Christ, the Bible and Faith alone
His breath and bread are; anointed
Books and tapes his ice cream cone.
In all circumstances he's oft elated.
Life of meaning isn't in number told,
But by deeds yonder the present:
All men were born; few do die
Great--for most live for the moment.
A diamond impact, like Papa's, will
For ever shine like stars in the sky,
Which the entire kingdom of the devil
Can never obscure its effulgence high.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 8:26 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 1:40 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
On the road just passed Ballinasloe,
with tyres hugging tight
to tarmac's staccato white stripes,
the stone walls of Aran seem so long ago.
Bu that is only the distance,
And she is more than the proof.
The island's sun has tinted her face,
Its sand has clung tight to salted skin,
The cliffs have sped the pace of her chest,
And now it's the Atlantic that floats within.
Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
@@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist @@ ➇➄➅➅0➇➀00 @@ vashik-aran blackmagic specialist
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
My first step to quest, I seek county Clare
identity lost, me feel the sea air
In Ireland I stay, a man with no country
I wonder and wander county to county
From Doolin I sail, isles of Aran
Land full of stone so cold and once barren
The locals invite for coffee and tea
I wander and wonder, life by the sea
Next in my journey, find county Kerry
Crossing the Shannon, a trip on the ferry
In Ireland I stay, a man with no country
I wonder and wander county to county
Boat man gives lesson, ‘cross lake of learning
Dock by the Abby, I find peace of yearning
Grounds of Killarney by horse n carriage
I wander and wonder, great mountains marriage
I sit in The Oar House down by the pier
Howth to host, from far or from near
In Ireland I stay, a man with no country
I wonder and wander county to county
I spy an Irish rose, sit by the sea
I know her name, ne’er for me
Admire her beauty I sit from afar
I wander and wonder, who then we are
County Meath holds the once great Raith na Rig
Where the ancients had once all danced a jig
In Ireland I stay, a man with no country
I wonder and wander county to county
I climb atop hills where kings sat on high
Same place they lay once they say their bye
A place where high kings all came to pass
I wander and wonder whom we’ve lost past
I’ll take the rocky road, the only way to Dublin
Fore long I’m found, set with the pub kin
In Ireland I stay, a man with no country
I wonder and wander county to county
Here I will find the black liquidation
Ruby red pint to wrap up a nation
Feasting we drink and laugh about strife
I wander and wonder the glory of life
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
.
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 2:56 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
On that western isle, bathed in gold-
Drenching sun, my only, giddy love,
Weaved a daisy chain and crowned
Herself, above the clouds and purple-
Violet seas, her grace, topping yellow-
Sparkled weeds, to flower, marching
In fealty, round her red, reign of crown,
Soon, after new mornings impromptu
Coronation, misty, bluer, eyes felt slow
Distant dread, the subtle, burning fate,
The inevitable nights of overthrowing
And fade of love's noble, corona light.
Were I shaper of dream, I would build
A grand labyrinthian castle of granite
Stone to contain that day— I would
Conjure a moat, impervious to shifting
Time, the mute corruption of sorrows
Waking.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 1:18 PM UTC
I met you for the first time
Rather unexpectedly
On a Thursday night
An upstairs gig in town
Hadn't been in quite some while
And you, no never before
I arrive before the show
A lone man and concertina
Play a weeping lament
For the lost children of Aran
And the hopes they carried
To the devil of a western sea
It was standing room only
Save a few lonely seats
At occupied and chattering tables
For which i dared not tread
So I slunk to the shadows
To a half wall
Left side of the bar
And watched it all
As another now enters
I swear he's wearing my coat
He's younger but shorter than me
My soul knows that i wear it better
Yet it is he that unifies tables
That I but watch from afar
As introductions are made
Strangers transform
To like minded souls
No more lonely seats remain
Only lonely half walls
And half sentences of the mind
As once again,
I don't want to be
Who it is
I am left to be
Of who it is
I am meant to be
The show commences
And it does not take long
For the singer to introduce you
Through words and through song
Violet Gibson as Irish as can be
But it is to Rome
In a year long gone
That you go
To leave your mark
And to a fascist dictator
You fired your shot
Grazing Mussolini's' miserable snout
You aimed to ****
But it was not your day
As the crowds howl
They lead you away
Mad as a box of frogs and old rags
That is what they say
As they expel you back
To dear old blighty
Our old colonial foe
Not ten years since
Your country rose to be free
You find yourself back
Incarcerated in an asylum
For life and for death
A window
A blackbird
A rose garden
All that you are left to possess
For you never get to go free
Unrepentant and unbowed
A violet not a rose
As once again,
You remain steadfastly proud
Of who it is
You were left to be
Who it is
You were meant to be
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 12:46 PM UTC
Un año más. El sembrador va echando
la semilla en los surcos de la tierra.
Dos lentas yuntas aran,
mientras pasan la nubes cenicientas
ensombreciendo el campo,
las pardas sementeras,
los grises olivares. Por el fondo
del valle del río el agua turbia lleva.
Tiene Cazorla nieve,
y Mágina, tormenta,
su montera, Aznaitín. Hacia Granada,
montes con sol, montes de sol y piedra.
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