Supine means - laying on back looking upwards.

This is a very important poem for me and not just any poem
due to the nature of what it deals it. It took me 10 years to get around to writing it and this is about the 4th version that struggles to be even able to grasp it. It is not the easiest of poems to recite but then...

I enclose the poem itself and the bit in the Times article that deals with me.

Most times people don't know what to do with it and are generally embarrassed by what it talks about or how I faced up to it.

For me it is like gathering my baby back from the dark and making her real again and giving her a place in this world.

It is a lament and lullaby at the one and the same time and also of course a statement of love.

People who have lost babies come up to me and it is a relief for them to be able to talk about children who have vanished from this world but not from their world.

THE TIMES - LONDON: SAT 31.04.07
Article on Performance orientated poetry:

'Donall is 51, with wild hair and an infectious laugh, working as a special needs teacher in Tottenham. He started performing to recover from severe paralysis that made talking painful and difficult.

He reads a poem that recalls the death of his unborn child.
'Early in my wife's pregnancy, in the middle of the night, we lost the baby, it happened at home and there was blood everywhere. My wife said: 'Don't flush my baby away! ” I didn't know what to do so I buried the foetus beneath a rose bush in our local park.
You just can't be prepared for something like that, holding something in your hand that you never thought you'd be holding. The poem was my solution to the impossible situation I was in.
There had to be somewhere where I could lay down the pain.
There are people out there grateful to have this grief articulated for them, for helping them to understand, or just be aware. It is healing for them and for me.'

The poem is beautifully lyrical, written in a blend of Irish and English.

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 lumen rouge light.

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 lumen rouge light.

Its all in Irish. My wife is Irish and I wanted to write this for her. Look on Google Translate they have the BEST translation of this.

Another ****** Irish poem. Enjoy... or not.

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.

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 lumen rouge light.

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 lumen rouge light.