Form: Séadna
The hawk hung high on heavy wing,
Above the grey, gasping tide;
Where gorse–gold fires fiercely sting,
And the pale–faced changelings hide.
A silver breath on basalt stone,
Where the cold, keen waters climb;
The sea–caves hum a hollow tone,
A rhythmic reaching of time.
The Fomhóraigh stir in the peat,
Where the dark, deep bog–pools sleep;
With rhythmic pulse and restless feet,
A secret, old watch they keep.
One–eyed kings in the iron mist,
They rise from the shelf of salt;
With a heavy, crushing, blue fist,
And a step that makes earth halt.
The rowan bows it's berried head,
To the wind's wide, wintry wail;
Where ancient kings and heroes bled,
Beneath a torn, misty veil.
The currach dances on the crest,
Of a salt, soul–shaking swell;
The sailor seeks a silent rest,
Where the deep–sea giants dwell.
A lightning fracture splits the blue,
Over jagged, iron shore;
The old world breaks and births anew,
In the Atlantic's wild roar.
The emerald pulse of Ireland's heart,
In the rain's rich, rushing scent;
A landscape torn and pulled apart,
In a wild, green wonderment.
A collaboration with Sam Scott
Wide awake and dreaming, this old heart never sleeps
wandering through a sea of feelings praying in for keeps
Cinematic colors of a seascape, hopeful joys
keep the currach in motion, as love's oar deploys
Dreams awakened we go now, paddling softly to the sea
steering gently through the water, it's just you and me
Tasting passions soft as silence through the salty air
companions, the gently kissing ocean laps, a lullaby lair
Ps: Thank you Sam for joining me in this poetry venture :)
Wide awake and dreaming, this old heart never sleeps
wandering through a sea of feelings praying in for keeps
Cinematic colours of a seascape, hopeful joys
keep the currach in motion, as love's oar deploys
Dreams awakened we go now, paddling softly to the sea
steering gently through the water, it's just you and me
Tasting passions soft as silence through the salty air
companions, the gently kissing ocean laps, a lullaby lair
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