“Again, Papa, please, please, again!” … More A Poem for National Tell A Fairy Tale Day
The wind is howling through the winter night,
Like to a pack of angry wolves that cry. … More The Wind is Howling Through The Winter Night
Who is the woman pursued by Poe in his acrostic Valentine poem? … More Poe’s Valentine
Burst, O sea, on the sands of the shore!
Scream aloud. Fling up your wild arms white.
Grovel, and shriek to the strong wind’s roar;
Peal up your cry through the pitiless night. … More My Love is Mine
“Thou angel of God who hast charge of me, [be] round about me this night,” … More Guarded and Guided
It’s Good Friday on the Orthodox calendar, and I give you a short poem from Kuno Meyer’s Ancient Irish Poetry. The Crucifixion At the cry of the first bird They began to crucify Thee, O cheek like a swan! It were not right ever to cease lamenting— It was like the parting of day from … More Ancient Irish Poetry: The Crucifixion
“When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under . . .” – Matthew 2:16. The horrors of mass infanticide, as felt by the Irish and translated by Kuno Meyer … More Mothers Lament the Slaughter of the Innocents, an Irish Poem
Far better to be forgotten! I who fasted from my mother’s breast have been replaced by a rotund double. He gobbles cookies from plates left out across the lands, one night every year. I once saved three maidens anonymously. I funded their futures. This imposter promises trinkets to overfed children in hollow malls. Elven acolytes … More St. Nicholas’s Lament
TITANIA: Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence;— Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds; Some war with rear-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats; and some keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and wonders At our … More A Midsummer Night’s Lullaby
“Our part to murmur name upon name” – William Butler Yeats, “Easter 1916” In college, we preferred William Butler Yeats’ fairy and esoteric poetry. We instinctively knew that the world was “more full of weeping” than we could understand. In our own way we dreaded “the monstrous crying of the wind” even if … More Our Part To Murmur Name Upon Name: Irish History in Song and Poetry