Random Haikus and Senru
The cold winter wind
That chills the very bones
Gives life to earth.
A cold spring wind blows
Like a massage to the face
But knife to the lung.
Drunkards are shouting
Swear words at passing cop cars
Who can not hear them
In Japan it's said
The Haiku is an art form
It is the same here!
A poet with a pen
Can bring joy to a sad heart
With a written word.
A fool with few words
Causes to lovers heartache
Spreading lies and doubt.
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The Excommunication
of St. Columba
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A sinner as is every man
Columba for his family had great pride
Swift of tongue and hot of temper
He challenged all who in his path did stride.
At Cool Drewny where Connacht and Ulster meet
Met the kings in battle swords drawn for blood
And Columba, who prayers to heaven for victory made
Declared the sins for the slaying on his soul stain should
And so the battle did commence and savage was
To avenge the death of one who as sheltered was kept
From the king by Columba in a place holy
Only to aside by the kings soldiers to be swept
And they killed his charge, and Columba declared
The king would have to take his shield
And as he humbled Columba and violated the church that day
He would be humbled and punished on the battlefield.
And his guard set by Dermot he did escape
And his way to his own folk he made
And exited their angers with the tale
And to raise arms in battle in revenge them he bade.
At Taillte a Synod met him to discuss
For we was known for causing the shedding of Christian blood
And it was declared in judgment of him that was made
Excommunicated: that sentence on him to be put: it would!
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The Death of
Niall the Third
of Ireland
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When Niall the Third was of Ireland High King
There came underneath his reign
For the freedom of the clans of Ireland
A time of battle with the Dane
And admist the battles fray
By the Callan rivers bursting banks aflow
A soldier was swept away
To save his life, comrades were sent to go
But quicker then the soldiers proud that he sent
He himself swam him to save
The waters for the warrior king was too strong
The waters now is his grave!
A heroic death of a king
Who died to save the lowest soldier of all
Like Christ died sinners to save
What a noble death to which a warrior can fall!
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A Holy Book Proves
No Shield
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A Holy Book it is no shield
To those intent its bearer to kill
Such a man should always carry a shield
And the words of the book his heart should fill
And fight he strong when on the hour
He is compelled to hold the sword
Let his eye be keen in the the fight
And at deaths breath the Holy Word
For once Mahon, a king of Eireann went
A brother of the oft times famed Brian Boru
To meet a rival, guaranteed by a Bishops word
Only by Molloy, Bran of Desmond's son: to be slew
When on him by brigands was drawn the sword
Stunned, to protect himself he made a stand
And rose to chest level the Holy Book
A copy that was written by St. Barre's hand.
But to a brigand a book is but paper
And he done what he set out to do
And slayed the noble king holding the Word of God
By driving his sword right through
And the vellum was stained with the kings blood
As were His garments on the cross
And little was the rivals gain
And great it was Ireland's loss.
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