Three Poems…

Prophecy of Celtic Ancients Revisited

Clarions sound out aloud
in the Hibernian far-off hills
calm brass voices melodiously sound
of a reborn past’s future will;
when tides turning around—
their crested pearls still
and steady wash back
onto the forgotten beach
of time’s gone-by sands—
the reign of women’s femininity.
Water-flow harmonies of harps
awaken ancient Celtic ideas;
Nature’s blood of Breton culture
flows and fills up every vein,
as musical flutes return
our beliefs to the ways
of woman’s empathy with nature—
a religion again feminine based.
Acclaiming once more her wise-soul
and gentle creativity of birth;
her Nature-imbued feminine soul
and its constant gift to the Earth.

Both not Yesterdays

Light and heat having been
both spent, the brittle, blackened
papers of both our histories
seem to goad a reluctant breeze
into cautiously scattering the
memories, your family’s and mine:
and I still keep the shabby
clothes my parents used to wear;
and you I hear and now your
children, suffer from an inherited
guilt— we become embarrassed
upon meeting, but we would
just be carefree strangers, if
not for knowing one another’s
distant titles… but we are here,
two of us, a little bit removed
from our painful years
of Auschwitz.

October to March in Sahel

When seas become tiny steps
and mountains but hillsides,
the ambitions of one presence
become unmeasured reality— life;
the wilderness of Africa calls
my dreams to her untamed arms
to desire and survive all
her nature’s violent charm.
A mother to secret agenda—
the unknown suckles the breast
of my future’s unfolding intent,
as I embrace that ambiguous friend.

©: Patrick James of Dún Laoghaire, author of the three poems above, described himself as “a young Dublin poet who has just turned twenty-four years old.”

Published in, The Green Dragon No 7, Summer 1998

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