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CianMcLiam 1067 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:19
Oct 04, 2006, 00:16
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This poem, by Irish poet Austin Clarke, is possibly my favourite poem. It's a liberal translation of an old gaelic song 'Lon Doire an Cairn', which loosely means 'Blackbird of the Cairn in the Grove' and in it the blackbird mourns the loss of the joyful and untamed pagan Ireland to the church of St. Patrick; the wild earth and the power of the sun forgotten and replaced by sombre, regimented prayer in dark cells. Seemed pretty subversive to me as a 'young fella' at a Christian Brothers School and possibly opened my eyes to enlightenment! The original song contains the verse: Doire an Chairn* is the wood back there where the Fianna took their rest So fine and fair its trees they set the blackbird there *Cairn of the Grove It would be fascinating to find out which cairn the warriors of the Fianna took their rest in the old folklore! Anyway, enjoy the poem and bathe your senses in the wonderful imagery :) The Blackbird of Derrycairn Stop, stop and listen for the bough top Is whistling and the sun is brighter Than God's own shadow in the cup now! Forget the hour-bell. Mournful matins Will sound, Patric, as well at nightfall. Faintly through mist of broken water Fionn heard my melody in Norway. He found the forest track, he brought back This beak to gild the branch and tell, there, Why men must welcome in the daylight. He loved the breeze that warns the black grouse, The shouts of gillies in the morning When packs are counted and the swans cloud Loch Erne, but more than all those voices My throat rejoicing from the hawthorn. In little cells behind a cashel, Patric, no handbell gives a glad sound. But knowledge is found among the branches. Listen! That song that shakes my feathers Will thong the leather of your satchels. Austin Clarke
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 04, 2006, 06:14
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Ah, thanks Cian, that's beaut'. If you don't find out which cairn the warriors of the Fianna took their rest can I borrow a pic which you think fits the bill to compliment the poem :-)
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 04, 2006, 11:09
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Hi Chris. This is now up on http://megalithicpoems.blogspot.com/ (with a great pic by moth). Thanks again for posting the poem here.
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:18
Oct 06, 2006, 11:05
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The following was on Radio 4 yesterday, read by the Prince of Wales in celebration of National Poetry Day. Though non-megalithic, it probably strikes a chord with most of us as we climb over hills and moors to find a stone or two that not too many people care about anymore. The poem is full of lost or half-forgotten names for plants and insects that all seem to be saying, "I'm here, don't forget my name." There's an echo of that in Thom's poem at the top of this thread when he writes - The racing barley, erratically-bleached Bronze, cross-hatched with gold And yellow, did not stop short its tide In deference. It was the barley's World... It's quite a long poem so here are just the first few lines - the rest can be found at http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/today/reports/arts/prince_poem_20061005.shtml Charles does a good job of reading the poem and it's well worth a listen, as well as a read. All These I Learnt If I have a son, he shall salute the lords and ladies who unfurl green hoods to the March rains, and shall know them afterwards by their scarlet fruit. He shall know the celandine, and the frigid, sightless flowers of the woods, spurge and spurge laurel, dogs' mercury, wood-sorrel and queer four-leaved herb-paris fit to trim a bonnet with its purple dot. He shall see the marshes gold with flags and kingcups and find shepherd's purse on a slag-heap. He shall know the tree-flowers, scented lime-tassels, blood-pink larch-tufts, white strands of the Spanish chestnut and tattered oak-plumes. He shall know orchids, mauve-winged bees and claret-coloured flies climbing up from mottled leaves. He shall see June red and white with ragged robin and cow parsley and the two campions. He shall tell a dandelion from sow thistle or goat's beard. He shall know the field flowers, lady's bedstraw and lady's slipper, purple mallow, blue chicory and the cranesbills - dusky, bloody, and blue as heaven... Robert Byron
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Edited Oct 09, 2006, 11:19
Oct 07, 2006, 06:40
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A poem about Wittenham Clumps (also brilliantly known as the Berkshire Bubs and Mother Dunch’s Buttocks) written in 1844 on a beech tree there… (See also TMA postings about this). As up the hill with labr'ing steps we tread Where the twin Clumps their sheltering branches spread The summit's gain'd at ease reclining lay and all around the wide spread scene survey Point out each object and instructive tell The various changes that the land befel. Where the low bank the country wide surrounds That ancient earthwork form'd old Murcias bounds. In misty distance see the barrow heave there lies forgotten lonely Culchelms grave. Around this hill the ruthless Danes intrenched and these fair plains with gory slaughter drench'd While at our feet where stands that stately tower In days gone by uprose the Roman power And yonder, there where Thames smooth waters glide In later days appeared monastic pride. Within that field where lies the grazing herd Huge wall were found, some coffins disinter'd Such is the course of time, the wreck which fate And awful doom award the earthly great. Images – Paul Nash painted the Clumps a lot, especially the trees on top, but most aren’t much cop. This one on the other hand is great (IMO) http://www.nationalgalleries.org/collections/artist_search.php?objectId=724
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 07, 2006, 07:05
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Oooh... good stuff Nigel (and the Nash). There's a photo of the Poem Tree @ http://www.northmoortrust.co.uk/home/visitors/poem-tree
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nigelswift 8112 posts |
Oct 07, 2006, 07:58
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Here are some more Nash images. He's a bugger for his landscapes isn't he? Somewhere on a straight line between Vincent and Jane.... ;) Maybe we should have a Megalithic Paintings thread ?? http://www.nationalgalleries.org/collections/artist_search.php?objectId=724 http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/european/em_bt_land_of.html http://www.tulliehouse.co.uk/contents/images/WittenhamClumps.JPG http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/apictureofbritain/inspiration/region/eng_sw/images/nash.jpg http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.adamgallery.com/20thCent/BradburyRings.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.adamgallery.com/20thCent/BradburyRings.htm&h=416&w=576&sz=16&hl=en&start=42&tbnid=fqcT5IWpvUhWoM:&tbnh=97&tbnw=134&prev=/images%3Fq%3D%2522paul%2BNash%2522%26start%3D40%26ndsp%3D20%26svnum%3D10%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D%26ie%3DUTF-8%26sa%3DN http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/0948462027/ref=dp_image_0/002-7392660-3163259?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books http://3corneredgallery.com/articles_for_navigation/w1127_p077.jpg
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moss 2897 posts |
Oct 07, 2006, 08:30
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And here's a poem to go with the Moon - not megalithic at all LS but appropiate today ;) considering Nigel's posting paintings..... The Harvest Moon The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing, A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upward To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon. The harvest moon has come, Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon. And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum. So people can't sleep, So they go out where elms and oak trees keep A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush. The harvest moon has come! And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep Stare up at her petrified, while she swells Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing Closer and closer like the end of the world. Till the gold fields of stiff wheat Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers Sweat from the melting hills. Ted Hughes
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 07, 2006, 08:38
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Maybe we should have a Megalithic Paintings thread ?? You know, that's a very good idea. By artist/title and a link to the painting? Would be a great reference facility. Think I've got enough on me plate with Megalithic Poems but would contribute to Megalithic Paintings if you got it up and running :-)
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 07, 2006, 08:47
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Yes, that's a stunner moss (read it first on your blog). I think his first two lines - The flame-red moon, the harvest moon, Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing... puts it in the Meg Poems box (just need a nice pic of the moon at Callanish to go with it :-)
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