Brigid, 1982

That May Medb swept through the Woodlands. 

A ginger vixen murmuring 

to lads to stir from their childish pursuits 

to manlier games … Word-play  

a sudden rage for rolling r’s

to source Knocknarea, Clooth-na-bare,

amidst the chalky shelves overlooked 

tomes, became a rash of roses 

never-ending stampede of bully boys

sashaying the thread worn carpet 

to call by chance on the Lilly 

temporarily transplanted from Sligo. 

Two rows behind her, I oared through 

a summer’s introductory 

of Irish Lit, sweltering verse 

by verse, mesmerized. The burr 

of the cicadetta burrowing 

into the great hunger,

all those minor majors 

as MacNeice dubbed them,

too happy or sad, too soon or late … 

my initiation to love’s loch -- 

biding an hour until time broke, 

sent us off to scrub souls. Where 

in the elm backed shade of a campus terrace 

I’d discover Guinness loosed more 

than tongue-tied inhibitions. Hope 

and deed indubitably roped together. 

Ken e Bujold

Reviews

[Neville]

you just reminded me why I first embarked upon this love affair with poetry sir .. quite brill and I aint talking fish neither .. Neville

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks ever so much my fine sir

[Perdition]

Ode to the Irish clovers of Lit?..lol.
This should be a discussion in some summer session (or ten) of master credits and it would be far from the Commons known. Probably held behind the summit limestone where the Queen's Cairn leads to a neolithic passage into the tombs and tomes and poetic goddesses of dark beer and sleepy Cicadetta munching on the roots of the banyan...PHEW!! Ken, I love it. I can see Robert Bly having a field day with this language, explaining to his audience exactly how it must be read and never without an accent. Just a phenomenal wordplay as well an introduction to the home of the Blarney Stone. And with Tulip Pint in hand, a cheer to the "uncollected collection". Thoroughly enjoyed!

[Ken e Bujold]

:) love the review. as to master credits, well, all i can say is: somewhere, if they still with us, an old prof or two are shaking their heads in wonderment. "Would appear the boy was paying attention after all." LOL

[W. Barrett Munn]

This has great rhythm to it but it is the playfulness I like best, i.e., Two rows behind we oared a summers introductory to Irish Lit, sweltering verse by verse, mesmerized.

Terrific.

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

i am rather fond of that verse too. took a bit to sweat to craft it just so.
as for Brigid: to protect the innocent, name changed. She was actually German, but the Summer of Irish Lit was real, as was the guiness