Fruits of Thought - by Niamhe D'Au


Sleep Poem of a Visit

I went for a walk
   Under the blue blue sky
The green green grass
   Was the sound of the sea.
As the sigh of time
   In the blue blue sea.
Such are thee to me.


I reach
I know not to hold.
I see a mist
I hear that it seeks me.

The mist haunts me;
In light, multitudinous orbs
In dark, forshadowy loss.

Offering myself, the mist shies away.
The mist sweeps near
   I smell the cold
   I sing the fire
   I breathe delicious self.
We rise one, ourself.

It passes away, on, back, home,
Dancing until my soul
Bleeds in moisture.

It grows dark, thickens.
Lightning strikes my heart.
As it becomes part of me
Its freedom-passion burns me.

Release, I free it.
The shadow clings.
My eyes are tainted by its texture.

It shall never leave me.
Will it be ever with me?

To you

To notice.
   To see the stars in your eyes
   the music in your laugh
   the kindness in your touch.

To see the distraction in your eyes
   the fade in your laugh
   the distance in your touch.

Tell me everything.
   Your secrets, your hopes, your dreams.
   How your day was, your night.
   What do you love...

   Am I part of your dreams?
   Will we live in daybreak or twilight?
   Do you still love me...

Always be part of my life.
   My friend, my lover, my life

   Do you love me as my lover or my friend?

To be yours.

Lights of a Fair

Lights in the darkness scamper before my eyes
Converge and resurface, while bits of dark
Trip laughing to meet them.

Twilight dawns.

Stars sing merrily of the jests of the moon
Swallows line their nests with jewels of dew
Light shines in pools of joy.

Day dances.

Aislings shake off the dust of intellect
Dancing jigs of loss in streets of silver
Finding themselves in another.

Bob laughs.

~~ Niamhe D'au (after the second Mileth Fair)


Pebbles are jewels.
To those whose spark's duty
is finding gems in muddy pools,
Pebbles reveal their beauty
as stars sing out the night

Hasty water babbles in delight
Enticing the notice of Temuair.
The river giggles at the sight,
lovingly tossing with care
its secret earthen butterflies.

The waters of Unseelie rush by,
Outsiders reveling in its smiles.
They will never see the reason why
For only those inside see the piles
Of sparking, shining, beautiful pebbles.

(With apologies to Sybil for the stumbling rendering of her beautiful inspiration)

Creativity Sonnet

Creativity has a sound.
Running laughter of rivers
Pattering earth creating a mound
Sighing of the world's life-giver.

Creativity has a texture.
Soft sand sliding off skin
Kisses of a mother's cure
Prickles of a well-placed pin.

Creativity has a look.
Fiery sunset over a crowded sky
Comfortable dust in a reading nook
Peaceful smile of the time to die.

Sonnets are creativity's taste
In the hands of Unseelies, never a waste.

Temuair Poetry

All written texts are ©2000/2002 by Niamhe D'Au
This document maintained by Estara.
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