A Medieval Kings Laments

" My whiffler forges a path before me, clearing the way as I ride forward in armoured procession,
My guards protect me with flactchet and battle axe - with shield and feather staff,
As I ease this restless blonk downsteepy along the hard dirt road at my own discretion,
And find the dimps surrounding the many coshes pitchkettling and a laugh,

Dear sweet fairhead at my side, prattler on your long blonk, ye may go now,
Ride on, I shall see ye - anon. "

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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Medieval Brief Dialect, Definitions Used in This Piece:

*Whiffler: An attendant who cleared the way for a procession
* Fliperous: A proud gossip, a prattler.
* Flactchet: A sword.
* Fellowfeel: To share another��s feelings, to sympathize with.
* Fairhead: Beauty
* Downsteepy: Steeply descending, precipitous
* Dimpse: The dimming of daylight, twilight.
* Cosh: A small cottage, hut.
* Blonk: A large, powerful horse.
* Pitchkettled (puzzled)
* I sha��ll see you anon, or I shall see you another time.

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Be well,

Tommy boy moran

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Seventh Son, Our Irish Legend

Heavenly paramour, true owner of the manuscript bodies, our only real and sacred Seventh Son,
Advance us into your vade mecum, your lofty registers, your treatises and your collectanea,
Bring to us the wealth of where it was your need for healing others, in your time, had begun,
Those raw meanings, words, scripts spent, meant to express the wealth of your mania,

And in your Irish fortress, seek to heal me in the body of my melancholy and, my limping sadness,
For I too am but a fleeting promise and I exist here in my own sense of madness.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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IamwhoIam1 and Kaustuv1,

Thank ye both so very much for your reviews. I am deeply, pleasantly warmed inside.

tommo / Ireland

Tribute To a Queen

In the kingdom of Ireland, across the rich green rolling hills, sheep graze in graceful meadows,
And in her valley places under a sun too often hidden, under a blue sky permeating the shadows,
We exist in our own warrior like bodies, listening to her whisperings - as if spoken in sacred echoes,
Across the warm hillsides to the radiant sea, comforted by her wet majesty, both deep and in her shallows,

All hail the Irish! All hail the Queen-dom of Ireland!! Praise her in the presence of her unimaginable graces,
And from her cold, castle stone walls, chiselled, carried from deep upon her mountainous slopes,
Give to us undeniable sanctuary, moments of her natural elements, shown etched upon our ageing faces,
And give to us the new dreams we dream, filled with her deep promise - and an eternity of our hopes,

Level ye no real harm meant left in the presence of our Ireland, our Queen, and bear her no gifts, not anything . . .
For our Irish queen, in her pure majesty - has everything!

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland


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IamwhoIam1,

I'm so very deeply touched by your words. And, always, allow that send my love.

Be well Princess, and, thank ye,

tommy boy moran / Ireland

Rasputin

Unsavory marksman of the hidden promise, maker of real driven, ancient, masking death,
Spells cast upon your unholy church, in the midst of Russian winter, beyond length and breadth,
Follow us to this day when it's dark and rainy outside and we're beyond our worldly breath,
Follow us straight on into the grave with a shallowness in each and every burdensome step,

Silvery Rasputin like images shelved in the solemn body of this, my singular reminisce,
Ye reflect a vanilla difference from the cold Russian darkness, to it's deathly, unholy bliss,
Chained in rust, kept down, held tightly like a snake coiled, shouting it's resounding stinging hiss,
Ye shadow us to this day Rasputin in your dark night - with your bold resounding negativeness.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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Mo,

Thank ye for your appreciation of my efforts in this piece.

Thank ye, Mo,

tommo / Ireland

Never In My Wholeness Body of Time

Never in my wholeness body of time incarnate have I sought my words to be heard louder than now,
For words form soft havens, shelters for the stricken, taken out to sea clambering beyond their wits,
And as this violent inner sea roars from the ships deck to it's creaking, fractured and perilous bow,
A literary composition in the form of a soliloquy erupts within me, with all that a simple word line omits,

Far, fair forest, Arden, gift to Shakespeare and the limitless roaming's of bold Kings in their pillars of time,
Redirect me through your solemn ceremony - gift me with your calamities and your shaken, cold romance,
Dig for me a sacred place, a holy space, where it is a poet with his bold, folded parchment finds true rhyme,
And settle me in there, inside sleepy quietude, a place where I might assure my freedoms held there at a glance,

For never in my wholeness body of time incarnate have I sought my words to be heard louder than now.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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This has now been done.

Be well,

tommo / Ireland

IamwhoIam,

I would very much love to view ye in a video. Please attach a link soon so that I may see you.

As for your request to have that recent piece added into Creamy White Goddesses, it has been done.

Be well,

tommo / Ireland

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White, Creamy Goddesses, ( Rare in Their Prominence )

In the fair blossoming warmth of Spring, where true sunshine exist to be shared,
Molded, glowing sanctuary, and the drifting promises not noticeably spared,
Are given of the worth and of the hand of those erudite white goddesses left open and aired,
From inside the rare beauty of their kingdoms, and, those holy observances now chaired,

Angels kept at breast two by two, aloft in a magnificent glowing reverie - spend time in their gracefulness,
Reaching hands downward collecting us, bringing us closer to them to share in their greatness,
While we lesser beings dutifully draw in the glowing acceptance of all they care to give of their faithfulness,
Regaling in their beauty and their warmth, like children in the springtime of their shapelessness,

White, Creamy Goddesses, ( Rare in Your Prominence, ) protect us all from our wanton nakedness.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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From The Desk of The Author:
To: IamwhoIam1, and, tealbreeze,

Both, please have and hold my deepest respect for your taking the time out to share in this piece with me. Ye both are gifts given me. And I am thankful.

Thank you,

tommy boy moran / An Irish Poet -Ireland

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Site Moderator: Please allow for this post as it was a request from another in Coffee Houses, Bars & Chit Chat. Please allow for this - for me. Thank ye very much.

tealbreeze,

To be informative I've lived here on the island since 2007. After a divorce in the U.S. back then, I chose to pursue my ultimate dream of moving over to Ireland and be with me ancestors. And so it has been done.

My accent remains Irish american with a strict northern, common drawl from my place of birth in New Jersey, USA. I've since picked up a wee bit of the ol' brogue though. Ah, but an Irishman I be.

With reference to my recorded works, here is a quick link ( non commercial, ) to a bit of voiced work. I hope this suits ye, tealbreeze.

" I Am Free " - https://soundcloud.com/irish-tommy-moran/i-am-free

Further sound bytes can be heard here . . .

https://soundcloud.com/irish-tommy-moran

Be well,

tommo / Ireland

IamwhoIam1,

Angel, are ye with the capability of locating this piece in the forum for me? I'm all thumbs.

Thank ye, IamwhoIam1. Your inner worth is duly noted. And appreciated.

tommo / Ireland

IamwhoIam1 and tealbreeze,

I'm so deeply touched. So very moved inwardly.

Thank ye both,

tommo / Ireland

And you, IamwhoIam1, are fashionably lean - and o' so fine.

Thank ye,

tommo / Ireland

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White, Creamy Goddesses, ( Rare in Their Prominence )

In the fair blossoming warmth of Spring, where true sunshine exist to be shared,
Molded, glowing sanctuary, and the drifting promises not noticeably spared,
Are given of the worth and of the hand of those erudite white goddesses left open and aired,
From inside the rare beauty of their kingdoms, and, those holy observances now chaired,

Angels kept at breast two by two, aloft in a magnificent glowing reverie - spend time in their gracefulness,
Reaching hands downward collecting us, bringing us closer to them to share in their greatness,
While we lesser beings dutifully draw in the glowing acceptance of all they care to give of their faithfulness,
Regaling in their beauty and their warmth, like children in the springtime of their shapelessness,

White, Creamy Goddesses, ( Rare in Your Prominence, ) protect us all from our wanton nakedness.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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Ladywind, Mo, papashroom,

Thank ye one and all for reaching inside this planted verse in order to assess the truer meanings.

As we all know when one sits to gather and then construct words - and themes into poetic refrains, we all get lost in the beauty of flowing wordplay. And, as such, we tend to lose purposeful intent. Line after graphical line our words tend to slip somewhere into that sense of cool, acceptable oblivion. So then has this been the case with me.

Please let me think for the moment. In as far as, " There on the rivers edge of a pen and a religion " I believe I meant the river's edge to simply be at the shoreline, or if you will, the base beginning of the contemplative attempt at writing. There in the beginning of thought.

Geeze, homily, and holy Christ, please let this explanation be what your looking for. For I guess it was really all about one's being there at the beginning of a writer's ( his/her, ) attempt, or stab at religious understanding.

Be well,

tommo / Ireland

IamwhoIam1,

I shall give your request certain prominence. I appreciate and respect ye, my warm, creamy, white goddess. Please allow that I ponder.

tommo / Ireland

Hu'ra, Hu'ra!

I sing now of the innermost, inner Ghost and of the solemn kingdom of prayer, hu'ra!
For there inside the body of these insatiable, soft words, inside a Saint��s worthy, holy law,
Exists the truest meanings of the forthright written parchment - read and spent in awe,
There on the river��s edge of a pen and a religion, meant to reach inside of us all, hu'ra!

And as I enter through the hallowed oak doors of this church and bless my body and self,
It is here I shall remain in the kingdom of this, thy holy righteousness, hu'ra!

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland


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