Shamrock Wool, Donegal
Rolling sheep, curly sheep, fluffy knotty yarn of sheep
church bell sheep, fence line sheep, wind, salt, and seagull sheep
Gaelic poet bard sheep, smoke a pipe fluffball sheep
sheared storyteller chieftain sheep, peaty crutched cotton sheep
Princess Ulster, Munster sheep, dag on dag off sheep, misty sheep
Appalachian valley sheep, raddled rumen solstice sheep, boggy marsh and forest sheep
cliffhanger click clack sheep, invisible cloak sheep, yin and earth, teet and lanolin sheep
wool and horn, tongue and grass sheep, under the willows prayer sheep
old stone hut and thatched roof sheep, cloved orange sunset sheep
sheep with names like “Grainne” and Catriona, Finn McCool sheep
shamrock flock of sheep, salmon gimmer sheep, ancestral mythical storybook sheep
trinity spellbound sheep, shapeshifter monkfish sheep, weathered, wethered leaping sheep
dancing dams and shee sheep, faery hop along mischief sheep, sheepish sheep
sheep who weep, don’t care sheep, don’t wear sheep, sheep who sleep
sheep who roll over and can’t upright, all four legs pointed up sheep
sheep who lament pathetic moans while they lay and wait for a farmer’s flip
are we the sheep?
Druid Salmon
it is spoken into the trees
it is shared in bark and leaves
tough nuts keep grove’s prayers,
poems, stories, pinecone pages
between hard-husked covers,
then, in a moment, they ungrasp
their branches, plunge
into salmon-filled rivers
where fish grow thick
cracking open shell cases
ingesting forest knowledge
caught by human
caught by bear
both now gut
deep with druid
wisdom
Ogham Terza Rima
Pagan pre-Christian communication
Shared stone stories of sixteen centuries
Latin relation, clann situation
Smooth squints face sun’s rising east
etches of lines, claw marks, thin grooves precise
piano’s black keys, a comb’s missing teeth
Chieftain’s tenacious notches, four by five
limestone letter, arduous alchemy
brawny shoulder storytellers of time
Bewitching message, sunwise sorcery
Ogham antenna of tongue’s spent ages
5th century Gaelic “Remember Me”
Heaven in a Long Room Ghazal (Dublin)
Enter the gateway, this archway of books.
Oral histories preserved into books.
Inhale autumn leaves, ink quills, leather satchels.
Cotton cords tenderly hold fragile books.
Look - Ireland’s oldest surviving harp!
Made of willow and oak, musical books.
Follow the black wrought iron staircase spiral.
Long ladders stretch erect beside ribbed books.
This room is a real working library!
This is the Sistine Chapel of books.
15th century word rapture on earth.
Dark academia exaltation of books.
Samuel Beckett and Oscar Wilde.
Jonathan Swift and Bram Stoker read these books.
Right here, I mean, these guys read them right here.
Where I am, their fingertips traced these poetry books.
And maybe those over there, rough hands reached,
glided smooth along glazed banister’s stretch of books
No doubt now, harmony smells of wood and paper.
Nirvana in 200,000 books.
Book of Kells Sestina
Iona burned, pillaged, plundered, monks
murdered by Viking villains, monastery destroyed
four hand-written volumes, swollen folio tucked thick
magic spell book of curved letters laid to vellum
painstaking prayer parchment, ochred words more precious
than inlaid stones, intricate treasure scrolls, yellow halos
no beard for malachite St. Mark, no evangelist halos
only bird heads, closed hands, crushed carpet of monks
concealed in a stone church for 1200 years, work of precious
angels shrouded under the pillage, plunder, all that’s destroyed
ten times over, callous iron weapons to soft fine vellum
lime-soaked skin of 185 young calves, layered thick
lapis lazuli and gypsum teal, hardened sap thick
packs every page, St. John’s eagle draped in halos
and double wings, triskeles, chalices, vine scrolls on vellum
root colored, quilled and filled by teenagers, 17-year-old monks
who took tonsure, hair roughly scraped off as all was destroyed
knots and crushed leaves, first epic Zen tangle, gospel precious
Chi Rho cats chasing rats eating, holding precious
eucharist in pointed teeth, perfect circle, pigment thick
Gospel gripped in St. Matthew’s cloak fold, undestroyed
inkpot Buddha sand paintings, bird heads and whirligigs, no halos
both share intricacy, focus, devotion spent by angel-shouldered monks
spoon bent over wooden desks and indigo pigments, birthing in vellum
untouched by profane finger pads, not this grandmother thin vellum
opened in square lit case, holy days altar, ceremonial Latin, precious
survivor, lime-soaked skin, hair scraped away, calf tonsure of monks
Chi Rho swirling, contrast triskele like bright yellow curls of thick
haired-Christ, flying saucer aqua eyes, copper halos
throaty Jack or marked King of clubs, hearts destroyed
earliest evidence of Madonna, were the other queens destroyed
like goddesses burned in bark and lichen, resin for vellum
immortal peacocks, resurrecting snakes, lion cub paws, no halos
charred clays, black iron salt, berries, powdered precious
pigments gritty under young nails, oh, their stamina, eyesight, thick
with thorny hormones, hair scraped away, young calves, fresh monks
left each other notes, I’m hungry, I’m cold, precious mistakes, thick
stacked halos swollen fjords unfurling in walnut yellowed vellum
monks’ alchemy, buckthorn to ceremony, in 1200 years, never destroyed
Amanda (A.M.) Hayden is the current Poet Laureate and Professor for Sinclair College. Her debut collection, American Saunter, is forthcoming (FlowerSong Press, 2024). Her first chapbook, How to Tie Tobacco, and second collection, Old World Wings, will be released in 2025 (Wild Ink Publishing). Hayden is a Pushcart Prize nominee and the 2023 River Heron Editor's Choice Prize winner. She lives with her family and many furry rescue babies, including their very special blind, three-legged pup named Vinny Valentine.
oh, yes. What images and inspiration! Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Brought back my trip to Ireland. All those sheep! They have the rightaway, as they should.
ReplyDelete