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Seosamh De Burca Poem
A hidden moon sails above the darkened cloud
Confidant, arrogant and so hauntingly proud.
A stirring mass crawl’s the darkly naked trees.
A chilled malevolence creeps amongst the breeze.
A cracking twig races the heart, suddenly skips a beat,
You spin around wondering of the horrors yet to meet.
You scan the woods for signs; you train your searching ear,
All the time your heart races, thumps, increasing latent fear.
A distant howl vibrates, stirs the gathering mist,
Nocturnal sounds grate the nerves, hard to resist.
It grows louder, the clawing bushes rustle and shake,
You step away from the trees a decision to make.
Flee or stand, face the terrible entity of fear,
The noise increasing, what horror will soon appear?
You taste the bitter bile as your hands wildly tremble,
The shape grows into something your thoughts resemble
A terrible cry escapes your lips and fills the darkened night,
As neighbours pour out of doors to check the haunting sight.
A beast bounds from the woods and knocks you to the ground,
Only then do you realise, it’s your loyal and loving hound.
S.de Burca.......© 6th May 2013
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
A solar wind caresses the mighty oceans blue,
Creates the waves, stirs the hearts of the true.
The spirit leaves the sea and floats on high,
To gather the dreams that make poets sigh.
When they reach saturation they at last take flight,
In search of lovers, adrift in the darkest of night.
Each dream a raindrop that freefalls though time,
Each drop a perfection, each dream sublime,
A prism to the soul or perhaps an angel’s tear,
As it floats and drifts, through the atmosphere.
Its colour and shape so clear and fragile,
Yet set on its course despite all the toil.
To replenish the land, refresh us each and all,
Oblivious to their beauty as they tumble freefall.
Each bead of perfection races to shatter,
On the land, its people and all that matter.
To wash the dry soil, to cleanse the city,
To grow the crops, dull the gritty.
Yet fail to heed its might and splendour,
When it can destroy, kill and can render.
There’s sorrow in those raindrops, so to glee,
It’s visible in its beauty-beast so plain to see.
As it gives life as it dies, a true resurrection,
The raindrop can certainly be a cruel perfection.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
WHISPER’S
April rain fell like whispers on grass,
Soft and light like a half felt apology.
Dark clouds wafted overhead in shamed silence.
Distressed by a cold winter’s return.
Daffodils wept and bowed in fading despair,
My Father’s favourite plant was slipping away.
As my Father had done and now my Mother too
Lost to a world of cold whispers and sorrow.
Dead flowers I had placed on their grave so light
Were fading like a memory, a star un-bright.
Still the rain whispered but failed to cleanse,
The grit of sorrow that inhabits my heart.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
At the end of the world great bears sleep under drifts,
Cardinal crowned Cranes sing and dance in joyous union.
Long winters blossomed by colourful spring and autumn.
Sweet summers vibrate with labouring European bees
As rowdy Sika deer wander this hardy land of contrasts.
Dragons breath seeps from deep earth’s core to sculpt
And create a soulful oasis within turmoil and bedlam.
Here the Ainu live in concord with nature’s seasons.
Bowing to midwives of our world protecting life’s wonders
I salute your gifts you leave us though I will never see
Your wondrous habitat of Hokkaido’s land of extreme,
To witness the land where great bears sleep under drifts.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
THE SHADOWMARE
This ancient tale from so long ago,
Thought to be lost for years, you know.
Strangely now it’s been resurrected
Far sooner than anyone expected.
This ancient story buried within a pit,
Never read alone unless light is lit
A tale so dark it’s beyond compare
Known only as The Shadowmare.
As recalled by elders from times past,
Some said the words as was their last.
For when all alone and light is lost
No good will come of fingers crossed
For in the dark lurks a shadow there
Yes, that my friend is the Shadowmare.
You blame your eyes for tricks that deceive
But fear holds you fast you dare not leave
Did you see it move? Or a trick of the eye
Did you hear a sound? Or a haunting sigh.
It’s just your imagination taking flight,
But still it keeps you awake every night,
Till time is fled and your mind does snap
And fatigue wears you down into its trap,
To loose your mind to an irrational fear
That is when the shadowmare will appear.
28th September 2016
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
Crystal Morning Song
Smokey dark clouds ooze steady slow across the evening sky,
Green patchwork hills slide stiffly to the bland suburbs.
No birds glide the sky of quite calmness at this moment,
Perhaps already resting. In perches of lofty sways and rhythms.
Lolling asleep in small feathered dreams of exhaustion.
Of lands new yet old, of flights long and necessarily made,
To rest and feed and start anew, a spring of blessed rebirth.
Still by mornings new and rested sleep I shall hear them sing,
Awakening me with crystal morning song from my sleepy sway.
2012 © S.de B.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
The Oxymoron
Dark light flood - seeped the small room,
Music droned loud with a dull sharpness.
As people stood and danced alone together,
Violent sways of percussion brushed my ear
A teenage adult smiled grimly as courage fled,
When I, dared to ask the girl woman to dance.
I stood shuffling in brave fear like the living dead,
A serious joke that I hoped no one laughed at.
Her smile frowned as she moved in an irregular pattern,
I made my forward retreat to the other side of the room
And watched her then in the now deafening silence,
With such sweet sorrow, as she danced with another.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
Silent tears as friends hug restricted bodies,
Lingering awkward silences for moments long gone.
A hugs breath on his cheek as friends leave him alone,
Lingering smoke and whiskey shades tints the mind.
A parting quip and a crystal tear shivers in the air,
The gesture wave of failing friendship walks unsteady.
A lonely discomfort nips the soul, a hugs breath,
Clutching a card stained with friends pain,
He leaves for home and retirements reign.
2008 © S.de B.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2013
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
The Curach (currach) is a traditional Irish boat made from animal skins / hides (now canvass). The hides vibrate when a whale sings.
Whale Song
How gentle the waves lapped the boat almost bobbing me to sleep,
My liquid turquoise mattress with its secrets buried cold and deep.
A curious dolphin glided past, its snout smiled in its personal joke,
As it observed my ungainly presence, (this awkward land folk).
My man made curach of pitch, wood and canvass stretched taut.
As she masters the sea with courage to return the fish she caught.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
And there in the distance, a great humpback whale trumpeted the clear air
As I sat in heaven blessed company with nature, in the middle of nowhere.
The whale approached my flimsy craft with a natural grace that was serene
One of the most beautiful creatures that shares this wonderful marine.
And so the whale passed by with the gentlest disruption of space,
And I think it was amused when he saw the look on my face.
I sat there drained yet elated at this wonder I had shared
No camera or witness to observe the scene or to have cared
But I was there and my soul was touched like a child once again
To witness such beauty often befouled by the actions of men.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016
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Seosamh De Burca Poem
SUMMER SOLSTICE
Queen Meabh stood beside the cairn, her velvet cape fluttered in the night air,
She called onto the Goddess Aine to return the moon safe to its hidden lair.
Braziers crackled as wood and turf warmed the dark hour before dawn’s light,
Na Fianna Warriors guarded against the savage unknown forces of the night.
A lone whistler’s haunting tune announced the Thuaith De Dannan clan’s arrival,
And Morganna smirked as frightened eyes diverted their gaze in self survival.
The heart beat of the bodhran was joined by the uilleann piper’s soothing soul,
As evil Balor shook with fear, banished safe within his watery hell hole.
Then moonlight sparkled the wild sea horses as the waves hissed onto the shore,
Aine slipped into the blue of the night as the clans stood in darkness once more.
Then Druids began to chant as queen Meabh raised her golden Torc and spear,
Excitement roused the gathered crowd as they sensed the magic drawing near.
The bodhran raced its primitive beat as chanting and music shook the world,
On the horizon the sun God Eatain loosed the false sun, as nature was unfurled.
The Druids entered the sacred cairn as outside the clans watched the true sun rise,
Its sunbeam flowed across the land about to unveil its most wondrous surprise.
Its beam lit up the chamber dais as golden ogham symbols glowed an amber hue,
Clapping and singing rose to the skies as new beginnings were ringing true.
The breakfast feast was shared to all and offerings were made to the mighty god,
Four thousand years later we still honour this festival and respect the sacred sod.
26th May 2016 S.de B.
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016
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