I put a tune to a poem I posted here before … just half a minute long. It’s for Sean, of course.
The poem is here.
Sean designed this mosaic and made it from stained glass when he was around 10, I think … it’s been hanging on my office wall ever since. It was too large to scan in one go, and some of the colours haven’t come out perfectly, but never mind.
He wrote a poem to go with it.
by Seán O’Brien
Sometimes I just wish I could get away from it all
I wish I could get away from the modern day rush
Sometimes I just wish I could get a plane to … PARADISE!!!
[This one’s just a bit of fun … don’t judge me too harshly; I wrote it in about 15 minutes.]
Sean in the pub
Having some fun,
Or at the rugby club
With a medal he won.
Sean looking cool
(A trick of his trade),
While breaking a rule
That his parents made.
Sean in the Manor
Letting off steam,
Or in front of the banner
Of his football team. Continue reading
A wren still hunts in the dry-stone wall
Where Fluffy caught and killed the nesting coal-tit.
I watched three hares in the field this morning,
Loping through the snow, and pitied them.
The Christmas tree is up, and looks well;
Some presents are beneath it, your stocking on a chair. Continue reading
To the Forest Park entrance I drive you;
You step from the car and move away.
I turn outside Brady’s and watch you
In profile on an ordinary day
As you walk towards Tunt’s, or Paul’s,
Each a friend, therefore your brother.
Eyes to the front as each foot falls,
You are heading for some fun or other
As you go through your life’s million paces.
And I’m glad of you, Sean, my lovely boy.
Three people fill my heart’s spaces –
Three people lift my soul with joy.
To the rare old earth from the older heavens
It came in your grasp:
Fire from the wedding, element most regal;
Your daring had no match,
Deliverance yet the work of an eagle
While you waited, fearing blindness,
For the kindness of another god. Continue reading
Trees renounce their songs of day
To hum nocturnal scales of clay;
Played notes flee the upper stave
To kiss the cradle, now the grave;
Leaves of black-blot sycamore
In layers upon the forest floor
Jesus died, and Jesus rose. Continue reading
You’ve changed again! Sixth time today:
Eloquent poisoner, splitter and joiner,
We appease you in some calm amalgam;
Chain you to the colder stone
To make you keep your distance from the bone. Continue reading
it’s 1962 March 28th
I’m sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train
night is falling
I never knew I liked
night descending like a tired bird on a smoky wet plain
I don’t like
comparing nightfall to a tired bird
I didn’t know I loved the earth
can someone who hasn’t worked the earth love it
I’ve never worked the earth
it must be my only Platonic love Continue reading