waiting for epiphany x3

gold and myrrh. . .
words explode into new stars
i wait

 (los reyes magos)

santa times three
políticos con barba
seek future voters

the wise men arrive
at last. they do not stop
for directions

Four Basho poems

The oak tree
not interested
in cherry blossoms

• Níl suim soip
  ag an crann darach
  i mbláth bán na Bealtaine

The monk sips morning tea
it’s quiet
the crysanthemum’s flowering

• Bolgaim beaga tae maidine
  manach, ciúnas
  an criosantaman teacht i mbláth

The sea darkens;
the voices of the wild ducks
are faintly white.

• Ag cronú an fharraige
  beag bán an bonnáin
  lachan fhiáin.

The leeks
newly washed white,–
how cold it is!

• Na cainneann
  úr nite bán
  chomh fuar atá sé!

Autumn Haiku

never far behind
pink fog, gray pangs, winter comes
accompanies us

wind pushes, stirs up
the loose, torn off bits
ready or not

long-lobed, cat-faced
feathered ovals, ruddy-cheeked
waxen, all one pile

naked oaks
all about scattered raiments
rumpled souvenirs

circles of leaves appear
flames, we walk across embers
unharmed, holy

golden leaves pyred
high and crackling, hide
the dropped lens cap

when the wind swirls
the pile, it rises–
the burning bush

Spring poems by Basho

primavera
cerro sin nombre
en la neblina

spring
a nameless hill
in the mist

earrach
cnóc gan ainm
ceo leacan

Basho

Two from Basho

Desde el corazón

de la peonía dulce

una abeja ebria

 

 From the heart
of the sweet peony
the drunken bee 

Cuclillo

canta, vuela, canta

y  de nuevo

 

Cuckoo

sings, flies, sings
and again

Basho

Seachtain na Gaeilge 2006/Irish Week 2006: Haiku

bun rang

focail ag titim
ón spear. “tá sé ag cur. . .”
baistíoch 

beginner class

from the sky, words

falling. “it is raining. . .”

the newly baptized

 múinteoiri

measc carn. frásaí
briste ‘s botúin. níl ceist
ar bith: gaolta siad 

teacher

in the pile, Gaeilge briste
missing fadas, maybe a giota beag
lazy, but kin

Seachtain na Gaeilge 2007/Irish Week 2007: Haiku

piobaire fraoigh
éirí na greine d’fhomhar
cúldoras leathoscailte

• cricket
  autumn sunrise
  half-open backdoor

cith gan choinne
grág phréacháin
ar bheal na maidine

• sudden shower
  crow’s caw
  in the morning

tulca na focail
thar mo cheann
coinnim greim ar snamhraic gramadaí

• flash flood of words
  over my head, i reach out
  for flotsam