Haiku's


Do not curse the sun
Or the wind that blows strongly
Enjoy each season.

Do not curse the cold
Or the rain and snow that falls
Be glad for water.

Indeed it may be true
Yes, though not always the case
Haiku's do not rhyme

Human right my arse
If good for America
Then by all means yes.

Speak you no evil
And see you and hear the same
For a happy life

The bird who does sing
Does so not to entertain
But give a message

On calm evenings
We see the other side of
Winters harsh cold face.

We want change, they say
A mantra, a common chant
Maybe they will get it!

Obama is good
Is the common cry of man
Time in time will tell.

This man will make us
A better nation being black:
But so's Mugabe

1

He awaits the morn
The condemned man to be hung
We all wait for death

God sees all we do
We make him smile tears of joy
But moreso pain

Writer without pen
Yet poems I write, are many
Computer replaced ink

Late at night I write
Verse only myself to please
And for you to read

Cast out your net wide
And draw it in whatever
Is there, be happy.

Why not live in hope?
Apathy is not the way
In which to progress

We want change, they say
A mantra, a common chant
Maybe they will get it!

Our language of old
Is spoken today by few
Why do we not speak?

Who was it that said
That there is none so blind
The ignorant with sight.

Do not curse the sun
Or the wind that blows strongly
Enjoy each season.
Do not curse the cold
Or the rain and snow that falls
Be glad for water.

 

Wise men speak wise words
And waste them preaching to fools
Like you and me both!

Human right my arse
If good for America
Then by all means yes.

A crash: and silent
Is it a spirit out there
Or a fools scared mind?

Slinks away from all
He sets his own agenda
The cat: mans master!

I walked tonight here
And the Spring was far away
In the Summer heat

Calm sea, nothing stirs
No-ones happy tonight
The boats will not sail.

Speak you no evil
And see you and hear the same
For a happy life
Obama is good
Is the common cry of man
Time in time will tell.

Who goes there, he said
And found the word was the man
Sarsfield! Erin's hero son

Snow falling softly
A carpet laid rare to see
In Summers long nights

There is no sound now
All the drunks are off the street
Home: maybe in a cell
Soft white winter snows
Bring joy to the children's eyes
And dread to old hearts.
He fights being so strong
His might makes him be right
But not before God
How cruel the hard world
That sees men die of hunger
And more from eating
Both the kangaroo
And digeridoo are few
In Tullamore town
Short skirt, low cut top
Swaying drunkenly slurring words
Evolved woman: yes?

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Poetry by Tomás Ó Cárthaigh
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