This poem is taken from Stand 223, 17(3) September - November 2019.
Poem
from Common/Constitution
Lament for the Common Sphere
In case you needed another reason to believe insurers are sucking the life out of us, the industry has been identified as the dark force behind the slaughtering of thousands of healthy trees across Ireland. (Phoenix Magazine, 02/05/19)
Bards in Tipperary/ at the time of Cromwell’s clearing/ sang laments for the trees/ & the creatures they sheltered/ What will we do without wood? The end of the forests is on us/ keening a list of the ducks & geese/ eagles & bees/ cuckoo/ hazel/ holly/ berry/ all lost & scattered & gone//
Seán Ó Duibhir an Ghleanna/ John Dwyer of the glen/ caught in his love of the falling trees/ a song I sang/ an octave too high/ as my grandmother died/ & an Irish poem/ should zoom in close/ get lost in that moment/ attaching itself to a clock on the wall/ & a fading breath/ poor Seán/ gone game/ his shelter cut/ thrush & blackbird/ falling/ silent/ noble Ireland/ sloughed off like ash/ then scattered now gone//
...
Lament for the Common Sphere
In case you needed another reason to believe insurers are sucking the life out of us, the industry has been identified as the dark force behind the slaughtering of thousands of healthy trees across Ireland. (Phoenix Magazine, 02/05/19)
Bards in Tipperary/ at the time of Cromwell’s clearing/ sang laments for the trees/ & the creatures they sheltered/ What will we do without wood? The end of the forests is on us/ keening a list of the ducks & geese/ eagles & bees/ cuckoo/ hazel/ holly/ berry/ all lost & scattered & gone//
Seán Ó Duibhir an Ghleanna/ John Dwyer of the glen/ caught in his love of the falling trees/ a song I sang/ an octave too high/ as my grandmother died/ & an Irish poem/ should zoom in close/ get lost in that moment/ attaching itself to a clock on the wall/ & a fading breath/ poor Seán/ gone game/ his shelter cut/ thrush & blackbird/ falling/ silent/ noble Ireland/ sloughed off like ash/ then scattered now gone//
...
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