"rud" poems
Its Crimson Red Nose
A striking symbol,
A jolly tale,
Santa soars in his sleigh
& He sees the way,
He never fails,
The route unfolds
because of the bright glow
of Rudolph's red nose.
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch;
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet-favour or deformed’st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
1.7k
Bhíomar ag imirt haca an lá sin
Agus bhí tu ina bhall de mo fhoirenn
B' uimir a dó tú: mise, uimhir a trí
Thog an fhoireann sealanna chun mo chathoir a bhrúite.
An 'carbad na tine ' mar a dúirt mé
Ba naíchóiste é i ndáiríre.
Bhí tú ag tiomáint
Agus bhí tú ag rá rudaí
Chun an leanamh a cuireadh isteach air
Coisúil le 'Nil aon seanc agat' nó 'Iontach! Fior-iontach!'
Níor dhúirt tú aon rud nuar a luaigh mé gurb inís Hamlet breacht dom.
B'fhedír 'dáiríre?' ach sin é.
Tar éis ár gcluiche
Ghabh mé búiochas duit
Bhí tú ina sheasamh ar an staighre
Bhí mise ag strechaint le mo bhúiochas
Mo mhaoltheanga: tá fhios agat
Chonaic mé an trua i do shúile
Bhí mé lag agus bhí fhios agat
Chuaigh tú sios staighre gan fhocal
Fádo, duirt tú go leor...
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
Tá tú an réalt ag taitneamh
i mo domhan dorcha
nach bhfuil rud ar bith sa saol seo
Ní ba mhaith liom a dhéanamh ar do shon
Ba mhaith liom dul ar fud an domhain seo
Ba mhaith liom troid ar bith Demon
Má chiallaigh sé tú a choinneáil
ag mo thaobh.
Tá tú mo Shlánaitheoir
Mo shlánú
Mo bheannacht
Ní leor faoi cheilt a dhéanamh mar sin
Is breá liom tú Kaitlyn
le gach snáithín de mo á
Is breá liom tú
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
bhí coinne agam anocht,
chuaigh muid go Lus na Gréine.
bhí sí go hiontach.
labhraimid le chéile,
faoi gach rud agus níos mó.
bhí sí go hiontach.
tá sásta orm.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 9:53 PM UTC
GREANN MO CHROÍ
Ullastráth...do ghrá
gan fhios dom ach ‘nois do ghrá
gach aon rud...gach áit!
*******
MY HEART’S LOVE
The day before the day before yesterday...your love
unknown to me...but now
your love...everything...everywhere!
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
anocht, d'ithim dinnéar le chairde:
bhí áthas orm! rinne mé dearmad orm féin.
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
scríobhfaidh mé rud gaelach gach lá,
fiú má tá drochghaeilge,
agus fiú má nach mhaith liom.
mar sin, tá mo theanga seo,
's úsaidim í!
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:41 PM UTC
Will the moment comes when we will be together,
arm in arm, embraced as we dance until the morning?
Listening to the songs of the western ocean;
a kiss upon my cheek while on you, my sacred colors adorning.
We embrace and reflect on the first glance of each others' eyes
While the earth below us is illuminated by endless, starry skies.
I never want this moment to end; entwined by land and sea.
I will bless the very day you first glanced at me.
And if the sun fades forever, and our souls become blue,
In this world or in the next, I swear, I will never abandon you.
///
An tig am mionaid nuair a bhios sinn còmhla;
gàirdean air a ghabhail a-steach agus sinn a 'dannsa gu madainn?
Ag èisteachd ri caol a 'chuain an iar;
pòg air mo ghruaidh, fhad 's a tha e ort, mo dhathan naomh a' sgeadachadh.
Bidh sinn a 'gobhail ri agus meòrachadh air a 'chiad sealladh de shùilean a chèile
tha an talamh gu h-ìosal air a shoilleireachadh le speuran gun stad.
Chan eil mi a-riamh ag iarraidh gun tig an ire seo gu crìch, air a cheangle le fearann is muir
Beannaichidh mi an dearbh latha a choimead thu orm an toiseach
Agus ma tha a 'ghrian a' dol fodha gu bràth agus ar n-anaman a' 'fas gorm
Anns an t-saoghal seo no an ath rud, tha mi a 'mionnachadh cha trèig mi thu gu bràth
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 8:39 PM UTC
AN RUD A DÚIRT ÉAN BEAG LIOM
( A Little Bird Told Me)
- for David Cooke -
"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter." - Ecclesiastes 10-20
"Oh!" said the bird
" A human who..."
( and I never saw such
a surprised starling )
"...can understand
our language!"
"You can speak!" I blurted out.
"So, I see can you!" gasped the starling.
"The strange thing is...!"
I framed my words carefully
"...we can understand each other!"
the starling finished my sentence.
"But how..?"
being human I had to ask.
"Forget the hows and whys!"
friend starling replied.
"Just relish the moment
the such and suchness of it all!"
I made up my mind
to do so.
"Everything talks if
you only listen!"
the starling continued
its lesson.
"The mountains talk
to the seas continuously!"
The starling so
informed me.
"But humans never ever
(well hardly ever)listen!"
chirped the starling
playfully.
I see it had been listening
to Gilbert and Sullivan.
"And..." the starling went on
it was us birds who taught them!"
I could tell it was proud of
the whole nation of birds.
"Well, I'ill be...!" I sad.
"Yes..." said the starling "...a poet!"
"Poets know the language
of everything"
The starling stated
as if it were a law.
"What the reed in the rushes
told the lake..."
"Or how the sky sees
and says it all..."
Then its feathers trembled
with the change in the air.
"Well, I must fly!"
chuckled the starling.
"Well, well..." boomed the sky
in perfect Blueness.
"Was that a human
I saw you talking to..."
thundered it vastness
dark clouds looming on its horizon.
"Noooo - not me!"
lied the starling
for whatever
reason.
"Hmmm..!" hmmmm the sky suspiciously
"He looked a bit Irish to me!"
"Níl Gaeilge ar bith agam ar chor ar bith!"
stammered the starling.
And the day continued on
talking to Time incessantly.
***
The éan beag that told me all this against the wishes of the sky...was the drud or druideog...the common starling or as in the W.B. Yeats' poem THE STARE'S NEST.
It liked to quote the lines to me in its own charming voice.
"We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty;"
And here was my little stare friend opening my mind out and turning the key.
When caught by the sky telling tales to humans the little fella tries to get out of it by telling the sky "I don't have any Irish at all!" but in Irish. Of course the sky although knowing everything didn't however know any Irish!
I was uncertain of the lines about uncertainty in the Yeats and was trying to remember the Callimachus about people not listening...how a mountain never listens to a sea. And David Cooke when he was staying with us was delighted to find some Greek that he both loved and could indeed read and I thought I betcha David could tell me. But of course not having a David Cooke at hand I stumbled along in these lines and offered up the poem to him.
Sep 8, 2021
Sep 8, 2021 at 5:49 PM UTC
AN RUD A DÚRIT ÉAN BEAG LIOM
( A Little Bird Told Me)
- for David Cooke -
"For a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter." - Ecclesiastes 10-20
"Oh!" said the bird
" A human who..."
( and I never saw such
a surprised starling )
"...can understand
our language!"
"You can speak!" I blurted out.
"So, I see can you!" gasped the starling.
"The strange thing is...!"
I framed my words carefully
"...we can understand each other!"
the starling finished my sentence.
"But how..?"
being human I had to ask.
"Forget the hows and whys!"
friend starling replied.
"Just relish the moment
the such and suchness of it all!"
I made up my mind
to do so.
"Everything talks if
you only listen!"
the starling continued
its lesson.
"The mountains talk
to the seas continuously!"
The starling so
informed me.
"But humans never ever
(well hardly ever)listen!"
chirped the starling
playfully.
I see it had been listening
to Gilbert and Sullivan.
"And..." the starling went on
it was us birds who taught them!"
I could tell it was proud of
the whole nation of birds.
"Well, I'ill be...!" I sad.
"Yes..." said the starling "...a poet!"
"Poets know the language
of everything"
The starling stated
as if it were a law.
"What the reed in the rushes
told the lake..."
"Or how the sky sees
and says it all..."
Then its feathers trembled
with the change in the air.
"Well, I must fly!"
chuckled the starling.
"Well, well..." boomed the sky
in perfect Blueness.
"Was that a human
I saw you talking to..."
thundered it vastness
dark clouds looming on its horizon.
"Noooo - not me!"
lied the starling
for whatever
reason.
"Hmmm..!" hmmmmthe sky suspiciously
"He looked a bit Irish to me!"
"Níl Gaeilge ar bith agam ar chor ar bith!"
stammered the starling.
And the day continued on
talking to Time incessantly.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 9:05 AM UTC
I'm from Pennsylvania and its broken landscapes
Trees scale the sky with branches that don't end
Eggs crackle on the stove of your favorite diner, sunny side up
It's always sunny in Philadelphia
It's always rainy in the suburbs because the grass needs it
Or so dad says
I come from a place of constant decay
Historical avenues, local produce that actually goes 'vrot'
The leaves litter the earth but we litter it more
Old books decompose in desolate buildings and old art hears less footsteps as each season violently meets its end
It's cold now and the landscape is stiff
Imagine being so cold you just drop everything
Our trees do that
Like magic, or like troubled vagabonds
But imagine being so cold it brings happiness to your bones
Because home is ears flushed red and fingertips blue
Home is sweet strawberries in the summer and sweet suffering in the winter
Pennsylvania is a polarized wreck just like the rest of us
It's chipped right at the lip but it's still the mug that fits best in a calloused hand
It's clay and mud and d irty water and rud
Fields of corn and grain, apple orchards and more rain
But its the filth we dance in, the mud for our pies and the apples for our eyes
Memories stay behind as the shapes of clouds in those boundless skies
Berry stained fingertips graze their outlines
Haystacks beckon you to stay because
Pennsylvania provokes the hardest goodbyes
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 3:50 PM UTC