Patience and the Prodigal have hit upon a novel idea and we propose to test its merit. What we intend is to revisit the obscure and much forgotten verse and poetry of some of the great poets of all time and with the juxtaposition of words, phrases and lines, represent these more or less ignored stanzas in a new light.
William Wordsworth, for instance is generally credited with composing roughly 1000 separate poems, yet how many are well known. Perhaps aficionados of Wordsworth might know a dozen or twenty of his more celebrated poems such as ‘The Green Linnet’, ‘The Daffodils’, ‘Composed upon Westminster Bridge’ or ‘The Solitary Reaper. What about the rest? Surely these must be infused with the creative genius of Wordsworth. This we intend to explore, if only for the Craic.

Monday, 1 April 2013

Your Time is Over.


Lie quiet in your churchyard bed,
For you the stream of fiction ceased to flow
How often joy and sorrow can be wed,
Action is transitory, quick march or slow.
For you the voice of melody was mute
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,
Yet through the darkness gracious openings shoot
to space of open day in Heavens park.
Where light and shade repose and music dwells,
A musical but melancholy chime
the last voice which you heard, the peal of bells,
Silent are the ticking hands of time.
Like glow worms of a summers night
Love's radiance is shadows' loss,
No sound, or ghost of sound, for him or flight
Whose guardian carries but the silent cross.
Behold how fast the churchyard fills,
Yet the only voice which you can hear
is common between banks, by turning mills,
One way ferryman, river murmuring near.
(from 'the White Doe of Rylstone)
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