Wild Irish sea pounds spray ashore,
its white teeth gnaw the stone down,
each tide returns, bites as before
wearing away the brown cliffs.
The wind flattens salted bluegrass,
while gulls wheel up in the sky
soaring as on an overpass
hang gliding over the crags.
Breaking waves surge up the sandstone
Falling back as white foam veils
stroking the old wounds to atone
for the endless scouring blows.
The strong swells drum through sea caverns,
blow-holes spray up in the sky
bringing cheers to seaside taverns
for the pipe, fiddle, drum songs.
Irish seals dive through kelp seaweed
silver backs, flash through foam spray,
twisting and turning at high-speed
laughing at angry sea grasps.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
At a distance the trunk did not impress,
lofty though this fir in Cragside's autumn.
Yet close the fissured craggy bark expressed
a legend of colours discretely awesome,
Many forest creatures have passed this way
each with its own sensory perception
to sniff or rub their scent marks as they may,
but we alone pause there in reflection.
Deep within this trunk history is held,
told through seasons of a changing climate
in rings of rain or wilds of weather spelled,
year by year expanding still and quiet.
We have much to learn from this tree as host
to so much life. I pondered there engrossed.
Craggy snow-capped crowns,
Skirting skyline’s golden hue.
Windswept clouds, your gowns.
To dig for life’s blood to flourish from seed
Roots are driven deep and cling to life in need,
Burst through in glory where none can survive
The drywall a challenge a world don’t deprive,
A drop of moisture from lips so sweet
Can life surge as root and moisture meet?
You the one to give the love
I flower my seed carried up above,
The craggy wall no more lay stark
My flower engaged within your heart.
To dig for life’s blood to flourish from seed
Roots are driven deep and cling to life in need
entered Craig Cornish
flower in the crannied wall contest
8/3/2020
Il Pleut
It rains torrentially
after long drought and disorder;
it rains drenching the empathetic
scraggy soil of the heart
it rains moistening the rocks of anger
crags of revenge and cracks of depravity
it rains covering the jealous holes with purity
healing the undesirable crevices of the being
it pours incessantly to cover and clean
the gaps of deceptive caves of life
it rains inside me constantly
stretching the cramped limbs
softening the being;
it skits with a susurrus
leading me to the lee
when all on a sudden
something goes wrong
influenced by someone’s lewd smile
or a serein’s half-hearted dampening.
Rain of grace falls and falls
to soothe my ruffled feelings;
it corrects, it helps, it leads me
always to the right way.
When it rains in the forest of my being
where the tallest trees touch the sky
and the moon shines bright on the leaves
through the gnarled branches
lighting the dark parts of existence,
life becomes wholesome
peaceful and serene.
Removing the dryness and darkness of life
rain of grace falls and falls
perpetually to revive.
The kids all call her Mrs. Craggy
She wears her dresses torn and baggy
Don't throw your balls into her yard
To get them back will be quite hard
The story goes she killed her hubby
Drowned him in the old bath tubby
They say she'll stew a little kid
If in her house they don't stay hid
She has close to a hundred cats
Instead of birdies she has bats
Don't go up there to her old house
Unless you're quiet as a mouse
Cos if she catches you,you're done
She'll kill you with her old shotgun
Mrs. Craggy's scary and mean
Especially on Halloween!
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