Appreciations to Editor Andrew "Ink" Feindt of Stanza Cannon for showcasing audio recordings of two poems -- Achill Sound and Smart Dumb -- on his journal's platform.
Here's the link to the Stanza Cannon site -- https://stanzacannon.com/issues/issue-seven#larew-achill…
And here is the text of both poems --
Achill Sound
When the roads curve like sound
and dip as if lifting to bow
Whenever all thoughts round or cluster
or when hearts call down
is Ireland
And as rich when poor was
or as wise as bare heads in snow seemed
and as twigs so frail broke into song
and as true as any blight or potato could be
was Ireland
So when sand laps the senses
or salt drips the edges as dreams
Whenever hope streams through such heavens
and moss comes home
or hearts beam down
is Ireland.
Notes: This poem was written at a writers cottage on Achill Island, County Mayo, Ireland. The Irish Potato Famine occurred from 1845-1849. UK composer and songwriter, Geoff Wilson set the poem to music and recites it here -- ACHILL SOUND by Geoff Wilson (soundcloud.com)
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Smart Dumb
She was born inside out
the size of a heavy orange.
And the story goes that she was wobbly from the very start.
Even as a little girl
she was so smart and so damn dumb together --
that’s the way sometimes.
Well, wouldn’t you know it,
dead solved the problem.
The full story isn’t important
but what is is that at about nineteen or so
she fell jaw drop in love
with someone who just wouldn’t, couldn’t and didn’t.
Someone, like too close to a fire --
Yes, with those kind of eyes.
And the thing was there was no warning her at all.
Not any.
And oh my goodness
the rumors were rich enough to live on.
But here’s the thing really --
She ended up like a tree toppled over
with all the roots up in the air.
Hers was a big sideways life
that just never really got started.
And of course, she’s gone now but is wholly famous.
That’s what starting out with too many wants
will do in an all or nothing sort of way.
So, the lingery question is this --
Is it truly best to leave nature alone,
or invite it in for a chat over dinner?
Notes: I read this poem lovingly in another voice.
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