Decline

Yesterday I was writing very happy poetry playing with sounds, for some reason today the mood has switched completely. This is one I wrote a few weeks ago that captures this low mood. It is called Decline, there is a reference to Marabán in it. He was a 9th century warrior prince from Connacht who rejected the royal lifestyle for that of a Hermit. An excellent English version translated from Old Irish is in Michael Hartnett's 'Translations'.

• Decline

The blackened sap
that was my life
stain the leafed
remains of my existence
among the nettles
of time
red haws
cast themselves
to ground
in desponding grief
ivy creeps
in delighted greed
upon leafless boughs
ensnaring emptiness
in envied eeeriness
sneering at
Springless ceasing
arthritic gnarling
grips once extended
greened exclamation
in excruciating
enfolding of weakness
beneath the wheel
of seasonal change
loneliness' reign
takes hold
where only jackdaws
remain
scavenging existence
on the corpse
of season's past
Marabán's faith
is tested.

• Dave Kearns

Alba

Seo é ceann a scríobh mo chara Rita Ní Ghóilinn. Tá grá mór le Rita den Gaeilge is den Gaedhlig, is féidir leat a mhothúcháin a mhothaigh insa dán seo.

ALBA le Rita Ní Ghóilín

Tá fuaim na farraige
Fite fuaite fríd na foinn,
Rithim is leath-notaí
Mealltach' na bpíb,
Ag tarraingt an chroí,
Ceol córach na gaoith',
Ag scaipeadh uaigneas an scartha
ó thíortha chlanna Gael,
Comcheangailte le teanga,
Le tonnta is le stair,
Is ag athcruthú cairdis,
Mar amhrán úr grá.