SOM (A Thursday,1987 / Tiobraid Arann)

A Golden End

Golden waves rushed on in
upon a rusty Irish sky
as mother sang out across the land,
fading leaves strained on branches.
The swallows said goodbye.

Crunchy red apples, luscious green pears
they’re all reaching their peak.
They plop down with the changing wind
that belts in from the west.
It’s coming, it will be bleak.

by Seán O Muiríosa

Comments (10)

I like the sense of rustic life that you create in this poem, and I think its really appropriate that the imagery reflects on the colours red and green. You've sort of given a tour of beautiful Ireland in just two stanzas - well done!
Very well written. Patriotism is more than obvious. The lush Irish landscape hits the reader immediately, and one can envision each and every line. Not overdone. Work on your meter. Otherwise, a very good poem. Keep up the good work - James
sean, i love this. you definitely have the talents. age will polish things up.
Fundamentally, I agree with Raynette. My only quibble regards 'rusty'.-I think some other adjective may be better for this nature study..
I enjoy this poem, it brings good memories to mind. Well done
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