POETRY

Periodically, I search the internet for long lost relatives who might have a lot of money they would leave to me.  I have yet to find one.  Recently, I did come upon a Sean Lysaght who is a man of some note and in a field that is dear to my heart.  Here is what I found on poems.com.

Sean was born in 1957 and grew up in Limerick, Ireland.  He now lives in Westport and lectures at the Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology.  His publications include Robert Lloyd Praeger:  The Life of a Naturalist (1998) and Venetian Epigrams, translations from Goethe (2008) and five collections of poems, most recently The Mouth of a River (2007).  He received the 2007 O'Shaughnessy Award for Poetry.

The following is one of the poems from his recent publication.

(My notes:  To fully appreciate this work, those unfamiliar should know that a skylark is a bird found solely in Europe, Asia and North Africa.  It sings in flight and has a distinguishing crest upon its head.  It migrates south in the Winter.  A hawser is a nautical rope or cable used to tie up or tow a ship. I would say it here refers to the birds pulling away the Wintry overcast skies.  I think links here refers to sandy regions from whence the birds migrate or stay until mating season. Of course, heather is a low growing grassy plant of northern regions. Enjoy!)


Skylarks in January 

None since October
and now there are four
calling across the clouds,
still dragging a grey hawser

that ends in the sea
after weeks in the links
while the waves poured thunder.
It's an early release

of that high, blinding obsession
with the sun's glare 
to make every hill disappear
through the eye of a song

when all love wants -
there in the heather - is a nest, 
a few stray notes, 
a closer look at the crest.

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