#Irish poets

[unofficialchronicle]

Excerpt from the poem "For the Dying," by John O'Donohue

May there be some beautiful surprise

Waiting for you inside death

Something you never knew or felt,

Which with one simple touch

Absolves you of all loneliness and loss,

As you quicken within the embrace

For which your soul was eternally made.

May your heart be speechless

At the sight of the truth

Of all your belief had hoped,

Your heart breathless

In the light and lightness

Where each and every thing

Is at last its true self

Within that serene belonging

That dwells beside us

On the other side

Of what we see.

a link to the whole poem: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-the-dying/

John O'Donohue was an Irish poet, author, priest, and Hegelian philosopher. He was a native Irish speaker, and as an author is best known for popularising Celtic spirituality. He was born in West Region, Ireland, in 1956. He died in 2008, and is buried in Creggagh Cemetery, near Ballyvaughan (in Ireland).

#death and dying #poetry #poem #John O Donohue #john o'donohue #irish #ireland #irish poets #otherside #the other side of what we see #what is on the other side of what we see #creative writing

[chronically-chaotic-cryptid]

There needs to be more Patrick Kavanagh posting on this site. A non-exhaustive list of poems you people would go wild over inclues:

The Hospital

Inniskeen Road: July Evening

Memory of my Father

Epic

To Hell With Commonsense

Address to a Wooden Gate

Dear Folks

Let me tell you if he had been a young english woman yous would have been posting quotes from day one

#patrick kavanagh #poetry #irish poets #poems #poets #yall please just read like one of his poems #the youth of rural america on this site would fall in love with Inniskeen Road #the chronically ill would love The Hospital and Dear Folks #and there's like a million others #you nature lovers would love Shancoduff #please I'm begging #I need like one person to rant about his poems with

[hallohartje]

Amber

It never mattered that there was once a vast grieving:

trees on their hillsides, in their groves, weeping— a plastic gold dropping

through seasons and centuries to the ground— until now.

On this fine September afternoon from which you are absent I am holding, as if my hand could store it, an ornament of amber

you once gave me.

Reason says this: The dead cannot see the living. The living will never see the dead again.

The clear air we need to find each other in is gone forever, yet

this resin once collected seeds, leaves and even small feathers as it fell and fell

which now in a sunny atmosphere seem as alive as they ever were

as though the past could be present and memory itself a Baltic honey—

a chafing at the edges of the seen, a showing off of just how much can be kept safe

inside a flawed translucence.

-- Eavan Boland

#Eavan Boland #amber #poetry #female poets #Irish poets

[importantwomensbirthdays]

Ella Young

Writer and scholar Ella Young was born in 1867 in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. Young published her first book of poetry in 1906, with a work of Irish folklore following three years later. In 1910, she published Celtic Wonder Tales, another collection of Celtic myths, which was later translated into French and received new editions in 1923, 1995, and 2001. Young was a member of Sinn Féin and a participant in the 1916 Uprising. She believed in the revival of Irish culture through the promotion of Celtic mythology. Young came to the US to teach at UC Berkeley, becoming a respected educator. Two of her books, The Wonder Smith and His Son and The Tangle-Coated Horse and Other Tales were Newbery Honor books.

Ella Young died in 1956 at the age of 88.

#ireland #irish #history #women's history #irish history #celtic #irish writers #poets #irish poets

[covington-shenanigans]

the second coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

text at poetryfoundation.org

some analysis

some more analysis

#poem #poetry #the second coming #yeats #william butler yeats #literature #literary analysis #w.b. yeats #irish poets #ww1

[appointmentwithmryeats]

#william butler yeats #wb yeats #men improve with the years #irish poetry #irish poets

[tlbattle]

#hozier #patrick kavanagh #peace #poetry #irish poets #Youtube

[thisdayreservedfor]

#oscar wilde #poems #poetry #poets #irish poets #19th century poets #writing #writers #quotes #books #reading #literature #prose #the sphinx #romance #romantic #love poems

[livingfictionsystem]

On April 26th, 1895, Oscar Wilde, famed flamboyant wit and dramatist, was charged by the crown with 25 counts of "gross indecency." Otherwise known as, "homosexual acts in Victorian times."

He was known for his wit on the stand, reportedly making members of the jury laugh so often that it infuriated the judge. Such as this hilarious banter:

Oscar Wilde: "Yes, I had a bottle of champagne on ice, against my doctor's orders."

Edward Carson, persuction: "Never mind your doctor's orders!"

Oscar Wilde: "I never do. :>"

He was sentenced to two years hard labour. The sentence cost him his family, his career, his home, and, heavily traumatized, he lived his remaining three years drinking and taking in the sights in either France or Italy. He largely never wrote creatively again and he died at the age of 46.

Many credit his decision to stand in trial rather than flee to accelerating the acceptance of queer culture, and some have referred to him as the LGBT+ "Jesus." (He's also made the comparison. His self-esteem was wrecked in prison but his ego decidedly was Not.) His original version of the Picture of Dorian Gray contained a homoromantic confession between two characters. He was a feminist, a socialist, and an Irish Liberationist.

His last words were reportedly: "Either this wallpaper goes, or I do."

#oscar wilde #wilde #irish poets #irish writers

[bardoftara]

Sinéad

With tearful eyes I listenedAs you sang The Foggy DewAnd that song that really says it allNothing compares to you Your magic voice enchants usAnd brings us all great joyLike when you were on the late lateAnd you sang O Danny Boy Continue reading Untitled

View On WordPress

#Black rights #Compassion #environment #Irish Culture #Irish Goddesses #Irish Music #Irish Poets #Late Late Show #notable people #positivity #Postivity #Rainbow Tribe #Sinéad O&039;Connor

[biboomerangboi]

Irish-uwufication is so fucking weird anyway but like people act like Hozier - who writes primarily blues songs about politics, books and music he finds interesting, and having sex with hot women he picks up in bars - is just a nature man is so weird. Like you have Americans saying he is a bog man, he only writes acoustic songs about chaste love and nature. He lives in the woods and doesn’t interact with society at all. He is made of trees and fairies because that’s what Ireland is.

#saw a tiktok and got passionate #so many Irish poets get this treatment too it’s weird #hozier #andrew hozier byrne #Hozier writes about politics all the time #he has an entire song based on albums he likes #not to mention he talks all the time about how influenced he is by black blues singers and rhythm guitarists not white acoustic guys #zee rambles

[unofficialchronicle]

A Morning Offering – John O’Donohue

I bless the night that nourished my heart To set the ghosts of longing free Into the flow and figure of dream That went to harvest from the dark Bread for the hunger no one sees.

.

All that is eternal in me Welcomes the wonder of this day, The field of brightness it creates Offering time for each thing To arise and illuminate.

.

I place on the altar of dawn: The quiet loyalty of breath, The tent of thought where I shelter, Waves of desire I am shore to And all beauty drawn to the eye.

.

May my mind come alive today To the invisible geography That invites me to new frontiers, To break the dead shell of yesterdays, To risk being disturbed and changed.

.

May I have the courage today To live the life that I would love, To postpone my dream no longer But do at last what I came here for And waste my heart on fear no more.

.

source: https://www.mindfulnessassociation.net/words-of-wonder/a-morning-offering-john-odonohue/

#poem #poetry #irish poets #poems #meditation #fear #wisdom #words of wisdom #therapists blog

[yourlocaljezebel]

the did-you-come-yets of the western world by rita ann higgins

#yeah….. she gets it #poetry #irish poets

[nudeartpluspoetry]

"Memory of My Father," by Patrick Kavanagh

#youtube #Patrick Kavanagh #Irish poets #Irish poetry #poetry video

[starlightseraph]

“he’s literally me”

no, he’s literally a scrawny middle-aged white man and probably british.

#david tennant #hugh laurie #peter capaldi #christopher eccleston #matt smith #john simm #honourable mentions: #robert sean leonard #brent spiner #they’re close enough #and david and peter are scottish #so their british-ness is debatable #sorry my irish revolutionary is showing #anyways #doctor who #good omens #house md #dead poets society #star trek #starlightseraph’s brainrot

[appointmentwithmryeats]

#patrick kavanagh #on an apple-ripe september morning #irish poetry #irish poets