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Thursday, June 24, 2010


Simple Things

When I'm annoyed I feel a need
  To flood my head with memories
Of childhood days with golden glows.
  I play a requiem for these.

The house where I grew up is gone.
  Time has claimed our small abode,
A dwelling in a scenic spot
  Beside a winding, crumbling road.

Our little world appeared to be
  A curious and boundless place.
Its mysteries confounded us
  Beneath the moon's impassive face.

At dawn we'd be like knights of old.
  We'd set about performing feats.
We sought the woodland's secret paths,
  The eerie, otherworldly streets.

We fought the shadows of great beasts.
  We always felt adventurous.
At dusk we fled the woods with haste
  And trees would rightly censure us

For failing to pay homage to
  The foliage that graced the woods,
Where all the fauna forage and
  The flora flower out of hoods.

We learnt to show some reverence
  For ever-present plants we faced,
For weather that would flavour our
  Endeavours with the sweetest taste,

For storms that lavished favours
  We would savour as the lightning flashed.
We thanked the moss and buttercups
  That caught us when our go-carts crashed.

These memories remind me of
  The eminence of simple things,
And emphasise the vital fact
  That noble, ancient trees are kings.

These monarchs shelter animals
  And house the most discerning birds.
They speak sublime, momentous truths
  In prose with no intrusive words.

Very Slight Stories

Henry Seaward-Shannon

The East Cork Patents Office

The Tree and the Horse


Words are my favourite noises

Previous Poems

Poems from 2004
Poems from 2005



Gizmo's (Non)sense

Pretty Cunning

The Dossing Times


Cruiskeen Eile
Kevin Myers' blog (sorry, Colonel Kevin Myers).

The Chancer

Sinead Gleeson



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A Walk in the Rain

 | poetry from Ireland

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