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31st January 2014

Post with 2 notes

'The Death of Irish'

The tide gone out for good,
Thirty-one words for seaweed
Whiten on the foreshore.

—Aidan Carl Mathews

Tagged: poetryIrish poetryIrish languagelanguagenature poetryIrelandAidan Carl Mathews

26th January 2014

Post with 3 notes

The world is ice

'My Story'

Here’s my story; the stag cries,
Winter snarls as summer dies.

The wind bullies the low sun
In poor light; the seas moan.

Shapeless bracken is turning red,
The wildgoose raises its desperate head.

Birds’ wings freeze where fields are hoary.
The world is ice. That’s my story.

Anonymous Irish poet, 7–13th century. Translated by Brendan Kennelly.

Tagged: poetryIrelandIrish poetryancient poetrywinterweathercoldnature poetryBrendan Kennelly

18th December 2013

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Dust of Snow

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Robert Frost

Tagged: poetrypoemscrowbirdsnature poetrynatureRobert Frostsnowtree

1st December 2013

Post

Abendsonnenschein

Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Und ruhig fließt der Rhein;
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
Im Abendsonnenschein.

[The air is cool and twilight falls
And the Rhine flows calmly by;
The mountain summit glitters
In the evening sunshine.]

From Die Lorelei by Heinrich Heine (1797–1856)

Tagged: poetrynature poetryGerman poetryHeinrich Heinemountains

24th September 2013

Link reblogged from Kcecelia with 4 notes

Kcecelia: Wild Geese →

kcecelia:

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

—Mary Oliver. Dream Work. (The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986.)

Tagged: poetrynaturenature poetryMary Oliverbirdsgeese

4th December 2012

Post with 2 notes

Ogden Nash, ‘The Wombat’

The wombat lives across the seas,
Among the far Antipodes.
He may exist on nuts and berries,
Or then again, on missionaries;
His distant habitat precludes
Conclusive knowledge of his moods.
But I would not engage the wombat
In any form of mortal combat.

Ogden Nash, ‘The Wombat’

Tagged: poetryOgden Nashhumournature poetrynonsensewombats

27th November 2012

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Over you falls the sea-light

Over you falls the sea-light, festive yet pale,
As though from the trees hung candles alight in a gale
To fill with shadows your days, as the distant beat
Of waves fills the lonely width of many a western street —
Bare and grey and yet hung with berries of mountain ash,
Drifting through ages with tilted fields awash,
Steeped with your few lost lights in the long Atlantic dark,
Sea-birds’ shelter, our shelter and ark.

Francis Stuart, ‘Ireland’. Written in Berlin, 1944

Tagged: poetryIrelandIrish poetryFrancis Stuartnature poetry

26th February 2012

Post with 5 notes

Cat in Moonlight

Through moonlight’s milk
She slowly passes
As soft as silk
Between tall grasses.
I watch her go
So sleek and white,
As white as snow,
The moon so bright
I hardly know
White moon, white fur,
Which is the light
And which is her.

Douglas Gibson

Tagged: poetrycatsmoonmoonlightDouglas Gibsonnature poetry