Poetry
Perhaps an Anthem for Irish Travellers:
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land,
those who stride out to an older chant,
obeying our ancient spirit's command,
"mishlee the thoaber, thaari the Cant."
Not for us were the country man's ways,
nor for any other to be deemed our master,
we'd go where we wish, at our own pace,
fast as we wished and surely no faster.
Scant welcome had we on the byroads of Erin,
and of late even America forsakes our hand;
the lies now pursue us beyond toleration
and freedom for nomads is sought to be banned.
The Life can never be fettered and numbered,
nor lines and borders ever enslave our band;
our people will never by chains be encumbered.
Oh yes, we are the Travellers of this land.
A short bit of free verse about nothing and everything:
Always questions, we say,
far more than answers;
yet answers lie abandoned,
strewn upon the universe,
while questions go begging
for parents to conceive them.
A bit more on a theme by a much better-known poet:
No less passive
than a sundial,
I cast the shade
that love would not,
to shroud in time
the unforgivable.
A poem for all the Roses who have gone before:
A Rose becomes when wandering seed takes root
and in trembling Winter, from the vine must fall.
Were this all of Rose's fate that nature knew,
then life is cruelty and nothing else at all.
Ah, but in the Spring when sunshine splashed and spun,
while her perfumed petals enchanted your hearts;
she held you all like golden bees in worship.
Think of her then, when Rose perfected her arts.
To play (MIDI), click here Molly St. Georges
A poem for the Travelling Life:
Bypass
I'm headed down the road today,
just reading billboards and
watching signposts rush the other way.
There's young-love songs
that fill the air,
but I am otherwise, it's sad to say.
It's just that sometimes it seems to be,
that my trailer's pushing me!
God only knows what I hope to find,
ploughing bow-waves,
the wind-shadows
passing truckers always leave behind.
There is naught back there but broken dreams
to rain upon my soul
and here sunbeams sing and wind-leaves sway
to airs so faint,
I can't quite hear.
Maybe I could further down the way.
The air of the open road is sweet,
free and clear of yesterday,
though traces linger from long ago,
just wisps of joy
that touch the heart
and call to mind how I loved her so.
To play (MIDI), click here Miss Hamilton
>
A poem for a settled life:
Now And
Then
Now and then
I deem mankind a source of pride
so capable of vast insight
both quasar and nucleotide
yield to mind.
Yet I find
churchly princes affect control
they claim the way, the truth, the light
heavenly pie to possess our soul
rise and fall.
Still and all
there is a time before my sleep
to pray to God just once each night
for still-loved souls within His keep
then, amen.
Additional poetry pages:
If I can be of help, e-mail me at: Travellers' Rest
You are at the Poetry page