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Seán Mac Falls Aug 2015
Founded in one fatal mission,
Where joy is merest rumour
And the two toned colours
Of dun flower are drowning
In sepia, where separation
Is touch, folded and kept
Like a lock of shocking red
Hair, fine grains in my eyes
Are stoning pebbles of grey.
Soft is the day and wandering,
Birds always sing, beaming
As they fly, rushing away,
I am stilted sound, hushed
In a vale shadow of whisper,
Flood lights of leaving ways,
Curtains to my moulded stage
And all the airs of outdoors
Mute, closed.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
Founded in one fatal mission,
Where joy is merest rumour
And the two toned colours
Of dun flower are drowning
In sepia, where separation
Is touch, folded and kept
Like a lock of shocking red
Hair, fine grains in my eyes
Are stoning pebbles of grey.
Soft is the day and wandering,
Birds always sing, beaming
As they fly, rushing away,
I am stilted sound, hushed
In a vale shadow of whisper,
Flood lights of leaving ways,
Curtains to my moulded stage
And all the airs of outdoors
Mute, closed.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2014
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2017
( Sonnet )*

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2020
(sonnet)

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2014
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2015
( Sonnet )*

Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2015
Tired, I awoke upon a lonely island beach
And gazed on a Goddess above the shore,
With sea foam hair, coral skin, what dream,
My salt eyes, blinded, open, wanting more,

Conspiring with rays of summer she shone
So bright, this daughter of the sun, we stood
I and my castaway crew, to that siren prone
As she led us to her mansion in the woods.

Her potions tamed the forest wolf and lion,
Spellbinding warrior poets to liven feasts.
Why then must she turn ***** men to swine,
By what she most desired contented least?

Desert falcon, my moly held Pharaohs' breeze
And what nil escape above the wine dark seas.
The name 'Circe' means 'falcon.'  She was a beautiful woman, whose braided red hair resembled flames.
In Greek mythology, Circe was a goddess of magic (or sometimes a nymph, witch, enchantress or sorceress). By most accounts, Circe was the daughter of Helios, the god of the sun.
Circe was renowned for her vast knowledge of potions and herbs. Through the use of magical potions and a wand or a staff, she transformed her enemies, or those who offended her, into animals.

As told in the Odyssey, Hermes told Odysseus to use the holy herb moly to protect himself from Circe's potion and thus resisted it.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2013
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2015
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2014
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2015
Under the muted bark of hazelnut trees,
Spurious, sprite juncos scurry in vertigo,
Pecking, replete bouncing downy knees,
Grounded, tuft, constellation of Scorpio.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2019
(Haiku)

1

touching the window
outside breathes dream world in sun
light through my fingers


2

in backyard garden
morning sun stirs flower beds
new emotions set fire


3

once my heart burned red
but young passions turned with age
mellow autumn flame


4

fireworks at dawn
fields of colour trailing out
wildflowers bursting


5

youth has horizons
elders have reached a new sun
beyond a mountain


6

after dread ice storms
sun beads forgiveness to earth
drops from icicles
.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2017
.
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2019
.
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2017
.
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2021
.
By open window
She towels herself with me
Moon cries in bathtub
.
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2017
.
Crow in the sun so black,
You are blue, a dark shining
On the green innocent lawn.

Crow in the sun creeping,
On land you are awkward,
In the sky you are blotting.

Crow in the laze of the day,
Your eyes are unbalancing
In the gardens overgrown.

Crow in the sun so black,
You are shimmering dread,
On the green unkept lawns.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
Crow in the sun so black,
You are blue, a dark shining
On the green innocent lawn.

Crow in the sun creeping,
On land you are awkward,
In the sky you are blotting.

Crow in the laze of the day,
Your eyes are unbalancing
In the gardens overgrown.

Crow in the sun so black,
You are shimmering dread,
On the green unkept lawns.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2018
.
Crow in the sun so black,
You are blue, a dark shining
On the green innocent lawn.

Crow in the sun creeping,
On land you are awkward,
In the sky you are blotting.

Crow in the laze of the day,
Your eyes are unbalancing
In the gardens overgrown.

Crow in the sun so black,
You are shimmering dread,
On the green unkept lawns.
.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Crow on the ground—
In his pecking lob sidle walk,
Struts with airs unlanding
On the sleeping lawns.

His black eyes are sideways,
Eyeing me as I watch—
What a rude intruder.
Is it me or is it he?

I make my coffee—
At a window into his world,
He waits, wades with indifference,
Goading the flighty songbirds.

The blackness moves—
With the dimming, trailing sun,
So many things left unknown,
Crown on the ground.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Crow on the ground—
In his pecking lob sidle walk,
Struts with airs unlanding
On the sleeping lawns.

His black eyes are sideways,
Eyeing me as I watch—
What a rude intruder.
Is it me or is it he?

I make my coffee—
At a window into his world,
He waits, wades with indifference,
Goading the flighty songbirds.

The blackness moves—
With the dimming, trailing sun,
So many things left unknown,
Crown on the ground.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
Crow on the ground—
In his pecking lob sidle walk,
Struts with airs unlanding
On the sleeping lawns.

His black eyes are sideways,
Eyeing me as I watch—
What a rude intruder.
Is it me or is it he?

I make my coffee—
At a window into his world,
He waits, wades with indifference,
Goading the flighty songbirds.

The blackness moves—
With the dimming, trailing sun,
So many things left unknown,
Crown on the ground.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2015
Crow on the ground—
In his pecking lob sidle walk,
Struts with airs unlanding
On the sleeping lawns.

His black eyes are sideways,
Eyeing me as I watch—
What a rude intruder.
Is it me or is it he?

I make my coffee—
At a window into his world,
He waits, wades with indifference,
Goading the flighty songbirds.

The blackness moves—
With the dimming, trailing sun,
So many things left unknown,
Crown on the ground.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2012
Deep red in the dark forest wood,
Under the dying grey of hollow tree,
The fox and the mouses dearly fend
In the theatre wings of the fallen leaves.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Deep red in the dark forest wood,
Under the dying grey of hollow tree,
The fox and the mouses dearly fend
In the theatre wings of the fallen leaves.
Seán Mac Falls May 2012
Deep red in the dark forest wood,
Under the dying grey of hollow tree,
The fox and the mouses dearly fend
In the theatre wings of the fallen leaves.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Deep red in the dark forest wood,
Under the dying grey of hollow tree,
The fox and the mouses dearly fend
In the theatre wings of the fallen leaves.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2012
Deep red in the dark forest wood,
Under the dying grey of hollow tree,
The fox and the mouses dearly fend
In the theatre wings of the fallen leaves.
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2013
I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2013
I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2012
I walk along the vaulting cliffs,
My mind is open, a clear horizon,
In passing breeze, I smell her hair,
I must get home, dark clouds arriving.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
Dark rose—
Your voice so plaintive,
Is like a siren to me
And your candlelit hair,
Is dire, scarlet, I see—
Eyes so vast and blue even
Oceans, in sun, are blushing,
Hushing in shy tidal foams
And mist, how I live to drown
In those depths, to hear—
Light, so dear as it gathers,
To feel your lovely petals
Of rosy skin in after dream,
To know, there is no one
But you and I and the moon
And the sky and forever rest.
It was only too soon I knew,
How love in bliss could sting,
When your sad eyes looked
Westward to another,
I bare your thorns.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Dark rose—
Your voice so plaintive,
Is like a siren to me
And your candlelit hair,
Is dire, scarlet, I see—
Eyes so vast and blue even
Oceans, in sun, are blushing,
Hushing in shy tidal foams
And mist, how I live to drown
In those depths, to hear—
Light, so dear as it gathers,
To feel your lovely petals
Of rosy skin in after dream,
To know, there is no one
But you and I and the moon
And the sky and forever rest.
It was only too soon I knew,
How love in bliss could sting,
When your sad eyes looked
Westward to another,
I bare your thorns.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2016
.
Dark rose—
Your voice so plaintive,
Is like a siren to me
And your candlelit hair,
Is dire, scarlet, I see—
Eyes so vast and blue even
Oceans, in sun, are blushing,
Hushing in shy tidal foams
And mist, how I live to drown
In those depths, to hear—
Light, so dear as it gathers,
To feel your lovely petals
Of rosy skin in after dream,
To know, there is no one
But you and I and the moon
And the sky and forever rest.
It was only too soon I knew,
How love in bliss could sting,
When your sad eyes looked
Westward to another,
I bare your thorns.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
Dark rose—
Your voice so plaintive,
Is like a siren to me
And your candlelit hair,
Is dire, scarlet, I see—
Eyes so vast and blue even
Oceans, in sun, are blushing,
Hushing in shy tidal foams
And mist, how I live to drown
In those depths, to hear—
Light, so dear as it gathers,
To feel your lovely petals
Of rosy skin in after dream,
To know, there is no one
But you and I and the moon
And the sky and forever rest.
It was only too soon I knew,
How love in bliss could sting,
When your sad eyes looked
Westward to another,
I bare your thorns.
Seán Mac Falls Jan 2013
Gone, my mistress of the long dark hair
And the ravens, still, as always remain
Silent, as the flight of the horned owl
Deep in the tangle of black mountains.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2013
Gone, my mistress of the long dark hair
And the ravens, still, as always remain
Silent, as the flight of the horned owl
Deep in the tangle of black mountains.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
Gone, my mistress of the long dark hair
And the ravens, still, as always remain
Silent, as the flight of the horned owl
Deep in the tangle of black mountains.
Seán Mac Falls Sep 2012
Gone, my mistress of the long dark hair
And the ravens, still, as always remain
Silent, as the flight of the horned owl
Deep in the tangle of black mountains.
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
Groping out of bed,
Keep the sun at bay,
Mirror eyes look red,
Soft in morning glaze,
Shower waters said:
Thank the sun, amaze,
Splinters in my head,
Silent verse word play,
Morning ends, I'm fed
Sweet caffeine au lait,
Later beers— instead,
Wine, my guitar flays,
Splinters in me head
And all ends up paid
As time revolves dead,
Poems making grade,
Song and music bled,
That is my bed made,
Staving off the dread.
Café au lait (French for "coffee with milk") is a French coffee drink.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2016
Groping out of bed,
Keep the sun at bay,
Mirror eyes look red,
Soft in morning glaze,
Shower waters said:
Thank the sun, amaze,
Splinters in my head,
Silent verse word play,
Morning ends, I'm fed
Sweet caffeine au lait,
Later beers— instead,
Wine, my guitar flays,
Splinters in me head
And all ends up paid
As time revolves dead,
Poems making grade,
Song and music bled,
That is my bed made,
Staving off the dread.
Café au lait (French for "coffee with milk") is a French coffee drink.
.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2015
Groping out of bed,
Keep the sun at bay,
Mirror eyes look red,
Soft in morning glaze,
Shower waters said:
Thank the sun, amaze,
Splinters in my head,
Silent verse word play,
Morning ends, I'm fed
Sweet caffeine au lait,
Later beers— instead,
Wine, my guitar flays,
Splinters in me head
And all ends up paid
As time revolves dead,
Poems making grade,
Song and music bled,
That is my bed made,
Staving off the dread.
Café au lait (French for "coffee with milk") is a French coffee drink.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2017
.
Groping out of bed,
Keep the sun at bay,
Mirror eyes look red,
Soft in morning glaze,
Shower waters said:
Thank the sun, amaze,
Splinters in my head,
Silent verse word play,
Morning ends, I'm fed
Sweet caffeine au lait,
Later beers— instead,
Wine, my guitar flays,
Splinters in me head
And all ends up paid
As time revolves dead,
Poems making grade,
Song and music bled,
That is my bed made,
Staving off the dread.
.
Café au lait (French for "coffee with milk") is a French coffee drink
.
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