Seamus Heaney (1939 - 2013)

It is with great sorrow and sadness that I report the death of Seamus Heaney in Dublin. I offer my condolences to his wife Marie, and children, Christopher, Michael and Catherine Ann.

Seamus Justin Heaney, 13 April 1939 to 30 August 2013.  R.I.P.

--

"The spot is hallow'd where the good man dwells;

Though centuries have laps’d, his words and deeds 

for his remotest offspring still resound”  Goethe

--
Seamus Heaney was the ultimate poet to me; in his work, his life, his manner, his openness and accessibility. I thought of him as a friendly statue, solid, smiling as I resisted the urge to bow down in his presence. Meeting him at readings down the years he was always the same, I remember meeting him at a reading in Clogher, Co Tyrone, I had just pulled up when he drove in beside me & got out, we talked a while & taking a jacket from the car he said;

 “I may put on the working clothes”

--

Des Donnelly, Poet, Co Tyrone.

.

Poem - If I

if I was a bird
you are the colour on my wings
if I was a fish 
you are the rainbow on my back
if I was the land
you are the flower growing in me
if I was a star
you are the light shining from me
if I was a song
you are my music
if I was that boy
you are my girl
if
if only 
if only

.
by Des Donnelly   ..written 2.Dec.2004

1 million views of my writing on Hubpages

A few years back (probably a right few now) I reached the milestone of 1 million views of my writing on Hubpages under my pseudonym Drax. I would like to thank all my readers, friends and fans for their support in the Hubpages era. I am indebted to Paul Edmondson, former CEO of Hubpages and all his staff.

I do not have any poetry publicly viewable on the site anymore and I am in the process of moving that material to here.

Poem - The Bi-Polar Owl

The Bi-Polar Owl

the bi polar owl was in a bad mood,
the mice scrambled for cover.
To die was simply destiny,
but the mood brought sado machostic practices,
even the dead would not talk about.
The terror among the field mice palatable,
leading to mass migrations,
many moving to the town.
Scurrying in the shadows oblivious to the cat gauntlet,
the bliss of sudden death welcome.
Then just the shudder of memory,
the full moon in a wide field,
the silent swoop of the owl.
Life over in that moment,
the rush of adrenaline, the high,
scrambling for purchase to escape the shadow black,
faster, faster, faster,
and then...

Hollie McNish - Mathematics || Spoken Word by @holliepoetry

Mega talented poet (IMHO)
Hollie McNish



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Poem - The Dining

The Marquess’s Marchioness ascended the stairs
the dining room perched in the high tower
I struggled from step to step
perfectly placed to admire her gastrocnemius
and semimembranosus and of course her biceps femoris
then my knowledge of musculature nomenclature deserted me
I was tempted to fall back on a somewhat chauvinist compliment
but the mood of the house was against it..
this particular night
then turning the last square corner
the dining room stole my imagination
a trick of perspective or reality
the long table stretched away like a serpent’s slither
a marble plinth with a motif of writhing waifs
thirteen black candelabra dripping blood wax on their skin
my mind was almost silenced
my heart ticking to the dripping
my life entwined with the waifs’ pain and pleasure

Poem - Living in Paris Pigalle

Once upon a time, soon, I would like..
to go and live in Pigalle
just for a month or two, probably
be the ubiquitous unknown poet
see sex and pseudo love and sadness
emulsified into one emotion
watch the whores waltz and the dancing girls dally
admire their French accents
at a distance
sip absinthe early in the doubtful days
then talk to the elephant behind the Rouge
watch the faithful clamber up to perch on Montmartre
soak up the culture of the performers
all the way from Africa
maybe like is not a strong enough word
to be a poet in Paris
and become what I might have been
doing these deeds in detail
scratching subconsciously
at the opaque glass of a tomorrow

==

Albert Maignan - La muse verte

Alas the sad elephant behind Moulin Rouge was removed in the early 1900's however with the correct shade of absinthe it may be possible that it will reappear...

Pigalle by Alberto Pozzi 1947

Poem - The Double Wedding

The Double Wedding 

10.10.10 

two oul boys well over forty 

at the Westmeath Batchelor 

debating how to remember a wife's birthday

they settled on a double wedding 10.10.10

the easy minded date essential

that problem solved

away they went to find wives

Y Mañana (after Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre) by Gotan Project)

 Y Mañana   (after Santa Maria (Del Buen Ayre) by Gotan Project)

1.September.2009

I may well go to Buenos Aires 

and learn to tango 

with a girl in a long coat

and try to speak Spanish to her 

in between steps... 

if there's time

or then in an evening alone

wish for an Ireland far away

or then in an evening together 

forget all in a heart red wine

except the beat and the steps 

and the new words of a new world 

to a new girl in a new song during a new dance

just steps away...

Poem - The Wooden Spoon

I showed the child the wooden spoon

She laughed and said;-

“That is a modernist

symbol of oppression

whilst you may view it with nostalgia

using it on me

will result in legal action

and withdrawal of your grandparent privileges

I will also be alienated

But that is nothing new"

I bit hard on the spoon

to vent my dissatisfaction

with the post modernist regime

resolving myself to continued celibacy

to prevent a recurrence