From deep within encroaching night, there sounds
a solitary corncrake in the gloom.
His rasping never ending call surrounds
and echoes far beneath a cloudy moon.
A very private bird, he still must tell
the world at large of how he seeks a mate
to woo and win and then with her to dwell
in this his covert place inviolate.
Flag irises bloom in June out in the west.
The machair colours the Atlantic shores.
It’s here the corncrakes choose to build their nest,
but she alone her tiny brood ensures,
and sees them grow and ready to take wing,
for her sweet mate has gone philandering
and yet again, before the summer's through,
he’ll call to seek a new love to pursue.
Such is the way with corncrakes.
"life is like a maypole", I heard him say through the cell bars
I knew his voice, unmistakeable, rasping (like a corncrake)
in a midnight field
now I had entered his world, his maelstrom, his sweetmeat-coated
world of pain, now I the sport, (a gladiator) no less
my bruised hands and swollen eyes, grown from their sockets
with heat of the Roman sun
waited their turn to step in to glory (or oblivion) wanting not wife,
nor hearth nor fearless hand
(the door opened) Alchimedes stood with trident in hand
multi-coloured like a sorcerer's wand:
"take your place at the arena door", he croaked
I took my sword put on my armour and stood ready at the side,
while the gods were drenched with worship from the dancing band
twirling,twirling garlanded ribbons round and round, dancers in the sand
For all daylight hours of this magical season
I lingered along the edge of a lake and
Was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves
And all sounds are as crisp as autumn air.
The leaves fall and the wind blows
Pastures smell with uneaten placentas
The lovely autumn days, the new mown hay.
Pigeon in the morn, cuckoo in the noon,
Corncrake in the eve, the wasps in the jam
The smell of gorse, the look of the gorse.
Apples falling, children walking on leaves
Larch turning brown, the chestnuts falling
Winds howling, the sea breaking over the pier
The milkweed pods are breaking and
Bits of silken down floating on breeze
I stood for a while under autumn tree
The cripple wind moved among the leaves
Voices of the insects, deer by the fence
This autumn dusk has brought me tears.
+++
January 4, 2015
Form; Free Verse
Third Place win
From the Faughan river valley
To Binevenaghs mighty brow
I love these roads to travel
Wish I could tread them now
To in an instant be propelled
Landing on that grassy slope
That overlooks Magilligan strand
Would be my greatest hope
To take the road to Donnybrewer
And walk down by the Foyle
To see the fields of Kerrs Pinks
Where my father used to toil
To listen to the Corncrake call
As it hides in the long hay
How many happy times were spent
Trying to glimpse her on my way
When you’ve walked up Kilnappy brae
You’ll hear your legs complain
Saying don’t you ever try to
Bring us up this way again
The walking up can wear us out
But when we turn around
The view that lays before us
Will never fail to us astound
The beauty of the patchwork quilt
Of fields enclosed with stone
The distant hills of Donegal
That was my parents’ home
I miss not just the countryside
My family I miss dear
Many times I’ve spent just wishing
I was there or they were here
I’ve walked the roads with eyes closed tight
On summers days and winters nights
Never a car nor a van saw I
Just me, the road and the cloudy sky
My knees were bare and my face was too
Braced to meet what the weather threw
At my frail form as it made its way
From home to school and back each day
Three miles to school my legs would ply
Bag on my back tear in my eye
From biting wind and driving rain
And ill fitting shoes causing me much pain
In class at last I start to thaw
As the teacher with the chalk did draw
The questions on the board of black
She’d shout at us if we dared to slack
The bell has gone and it’s home time
I run out past the village sign
Turn right and up the old mill path
Which cuts my journey time in half
Past fields where corn and barley grew
Not yet turning their golden hue
But standing now quite strong and tall
Hiding the Corncrake, but not her call
For years my legs would carry me
From breakfast plate to Geography
From Latin to the river Bann
Then up the hill to home I ran
How lucky I was I realise now
To see the birds the sheep the cow
And share with them the air and rain
Such freedom will we ever see again
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