All Poems
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Survivor
© Roger McGough
Everyday,
I think about dying.
About disease, starvation,
violence, terrorism, war,
the end of the world.
Let Me Die a Youngman's Death
© Roger McGough
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
Goodbat Nightman
© Roger McGough
God bless all policemen
and fighters of crime,
May thieves go to jail
for a very long time.
First Day at School
© Roger McGough
A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Cake
© Roger McGough
i wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate eachother.
Beguiling
© Roger McGough
She is so beguiling
That when she beckons
I can run a mile
In twenty seconds.
I'm A Fool To Love You
© Cornelius Eady
Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman,
Some type of supernatural creature.
My mother would tell you, if she could,
About her life with my father,
The Feast of Age
© George William Russell
SEE where the light streams over Connlas fountain
Starward aspire!
The sacred sign upon the holy mountain
Shines in white fire:
The Robing of the King
© George William Russell
ON the bird of air blue-breasted glint the rays of gold,
And its shadowy fleece above us waves the forest old,
Far through rumorous leagues of midnight stirred by breezes warm.
See the old ascetic yonder, ah, poor withered form,
To One Consecrated
© George William Russell
YOUR paths were all unknown to us:
We were so far away from you:
We mixed in thought your spirit thus
With whiteness, stars of gold, and dew.
Momentary
© George William Russell
THE SWEETEST song was ever sung
May soothe you but a little while:
The gayest music ever rung
Shall yield you but a fleeting smile.
The Winds of Angus
© George William Russell
THE GREY road whereupon we trod became as holy ground:
The eve was all one voice that breathed its message with no sound:
And burning multitudes pour through my heart, too bright, too blind,
Too swift and hurried in their flight to leave their tale behind.
Carrowmore
© George William Russell
ITS a lonely road through bogland to the lake at Carrowmore,
And a sleeper there lies dreaming where the water laps the shore;
Though the moth-wings of the twilight in their purples are unfurled,
Yet his sleep is filled with music by the masters of the world.
Content
© George William Russell
WHO are exiles? As for me
Where beneath the diamond dome
Lies the light on hill or tree,
There my palace is and home.
In Connemara
© George William Russell
WITH eyes all untroubled she laughs as she passes,
Bending beneath the creel with the seaweed brown,
Till evening with pearl dew dims the shining grasses
And night lit with dreamlight enfolds the sleepy town.
A Call of the Sidhe
© George William Russell
TARRY thou yet, late lingerer in the twilights glory:
Gay are the hills with song: earths faery children leave
More dim abodes to roam the primrose-hearted eve,
Opening their glimmering lips to breathe some wondrous story.
The Vesture of the Soul
© George William Russell
I PITIED one whose tattered dress
Was patched, and stained with dust and rain;
He smiled on me; I could not guess
The viewless spirits wide domain.
Breaghy
© George William Russell
WHEN twilight flutters the mountains over,
The faery lights from the earth unfold:
And over the caves enchanted hover
The giant heroes and gods of old.
