Teanga le Teanga
Ní mise an leannán Iodáilise
a bhreathnódh ort go paiseanta
le súile donna doimhne na foraoise
a chuirfeadh faoi gheasa cosúil le Naoise
le sruth órga meala focal binn
a thabharfadh ar chliatháin an aoibhnis thú
ach ar deireadh
a d’fhágfadh tú gan puinn scrupaill
ar bhóthar an chroíbhrisidh.
Ní mise an leannán Fraincise
a chaithfeadh leat mar rí is banríona
le plámás moltach bréagach
a chuirfeadh do cheann ina roithleán meidhreach
le hamhrán grá síoda fuaime is gutaí
a tharraingeodh go géar ar shreanga do chroí
ach ar deireadh
a thréigfeadh tú gan fiú súil siar
ar bhóthar an eascairdis.
Is mise do leannán Gaelach
a mhaithfidh duit é
nuair a chasfaidh tú do dhroim orm
a fhanfaidh dílis duit
nuair a rachaidh tú ar tóir suiríoch eile
a gheallfaidh buaine duit
nuair a shéanfaidh tú ár ndlúthcheangal
cé go mbeidh mé díreach os do chomhair.
Lasfar splanc an aitheantais eadrainn aríst
Lonrófar síol labhartha tréigthe na nglúnta
Preabfaidh comhcheol ár n-aontachta trí chuisle
Is tuigfidh tú m’fhiúntas.
Ar shaighead an ghrá
a scaoilfear ár snaidhm seirce
trí spéartha na maidine nua gile
Is buailfimid teanga le teanga.
Sea
Silks of waves
fold and unfold
in pleats akin
to sapphire skin.
Ribbons of waves
dance and swirl
curl and furl
in decadent twirl.
Ripples of waves
sugar-coated sprinkles
murmuring dustings
of iridescent twinkles.
Sighs of waves
heave to a swell
the lappings onshore
in reply do quell.
Caresses of waves
soothe whispers deep
secrets of loss
untold she keeps.
Yet be not deceived
by her velvet foam
on the glint of
iron fist, we roam.
Feather quill
In skies of pouring creams and azure silks
A feather swoons to sun kiss breeze
Rose petal swirls and spiral arches
Dipped in liquid gold of a melting sun
Pirouetting on an eiderdown of ripe green grass
It cushions itself next a glistening blade
Curling tips in slumbered plié meet-
Peace falls lithely, as a feather quill.
SONGBIRDS
Songbirds joined by fine gilded thread
Weave their motif, a tapestry bed
Embroidery petaled in flints of gold leaf
Spools intertwining shimmering sheaf
Spinning wheel hums to pleated crochet
Seams gleaned by yarns day and by day
Snowdrop lilting heads in blissful repose
Honey dawn strums stream on silvery sloes
Seasons gliding and spinning wheel ceases
Doré thread clipped, songbird releases
Woven spools lost to land and to sea
Satin love tails soar into winged infinity –
Feather Quill and other poems © Deirdre Gallagher
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Deirdre Gallagher has works published in A New Ulster, Crossways Literary Magazine, Poethead, Comhar, Feasta and upcoming in The Stinging Fly. Literature is passionate, powerful, restorative and transformative. It makes an immense contribution to our evolving world. A language enthusiast, she believes that we can dispel the shadows cast by checkered history and disconnection to see the emergence of a bright, compassionate, and equitable future that celebrates the advantages of multilingualism within national and global contexts.
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Chris Murray 