Tag Archives: vision

Broken Glass

Staring out from broken glass

onto gray green fields of waning glory;

the wild magic resides no more?

No more.

 

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Do you see?

This is my question
despite every effort to conceal
every movement to suggest
the sun is content
in the sky
and the moon to shine
only at night
do you not see
this star’s decent
the sun chasing eve
the moon shivering
and my longing to stand on
the green earth your pen
suffers to spill
your every thought?

Do you see?

I should be so lucky.

The night sky calls my soul – Éilíonn an spéir na hoíche m’anam

Éilíonn an spéir na hoíche m’anam

Tá mé ag tarraingt ar an ghealach

bheith réaltaí deora

ag titim i aisling

logh dom

logh grá dom

Ní féidir liom fanacht

glas na cnoic atá ag luascadh

ag damhsa an iníonacha

ar a n-éadach gorm dorcha

agus an caithfidh mé a bheith páirteach leo

ach ar an breacadh an lae

Beidh mé ar ais

ar an breacadh an lae

Beidh mé ar ais

mar sin logh grá dom

Éilíonn an spéir na hoíche m’anam

Tá mé ag tarraingt ar an ghealach

bheith réaltaí deora

ag titim i aisling

(English)

The night sky calls my soul

I’m pulling on the moon

stars to tears

falling into dreams

forgive me

forgive me love

I cannot stay

the green hills are swaying

the daughters are dancing

upon their dark blue cloth

and I must join them

but upon the dawn

I will return

upon the dawn

I will return

so forgive me love

and the night sky calls my soul

I’m drawn to the moon

tears become stars

falling into dreams

{{authors note: I hope the Gaelic is ok… forgive me if it is a bit disjointed.}}

Font and Longing

I should write a word for you

with brilliant font and calligraphic meaning

Tantalize you with the think and thin of curvature

lead you on adventure with a trill

one word, one drop

one syllable to rest between your lips

and tease with the implications of my

wanderings.

If there was such a word it would be orange

with shades of red

edged in light and shadow

casting doubt o’r scandalous truth

a word to soar across oceans

pick grapes of favor and fill

senses with wine

intoxicating flow

drunk on flavor and

neglecting time.

I cannot breathe

for the lack of it

I cannot live for the

loss of it

and to paint it still would

be less of it

so I sit

here

for want of a word

and finding

only timid brine

meets my vision

a thousand miles

from the moonstone tresses

of your skin.

To my younger self

You are

exactly who you should be

not an ounce grown

in the wrong

direction.

The seed of your

talents

grow beautifuly

unique

not a smidge

out of line or

question.

Your character is

witfully designed

trustfully divine

not a sinuew of

soul is placed

in the trash bin

or going

to hell because

love is not a sin

you’re not ugly

or unlikable

unworthy or

un-anything,

don’t listen to them

their snide remarks

their better than’s

because in the end

you turn out just fine

you

live a life

they said you would

not dare

do

so

when they cast your

lots beneath the stands

while you step up

soloed from the band

when they laugh at

clothes handed down

or the silver shining

in that smile

when they poke

prod and manipulate

throw, hit, and

simply hate

you

don’t you look in the mirror

and do

the same thing

because

You are

exactly who you should be

not an ounce grown

in the

wrong direction.