Bring forth the noise.
Bring forth the sound,
of wind chimes at night
with the cry of an Owl.

It is no longer a day.
It is too early for night
as the first stars appear,
bringing us a Twilight.

Whence came you,
oh, forgotten one.
Is it true you were,
the eldest Son
of one who was
from the very best.
The largest Star,
living in the West?
Tell me now,
will you please,
for I am in prayer,
down on my knees.

Sunlight drifting, near and far,
touching grass, across the yard.
Why does the Sun I see
bring forth a serenity?

I love the noise
of waves, a crash.
The smell of air,
with a salty taste;
The feel of cold
sand beneath my feet;
The cries of Seagulls,
in aerial flight,
as Sunlight brings
the shore alive.

This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet

Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

John O’Donohue

To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

My Soul is black,
Now dark with fear,
as the end of a life,
is drawing near.

Lose the attitude
of being.
Close your eyes,
so unseeing.
Pain of others,
compassion fleeing.
Re-affirm your life's
future meaning.

To write down the words,
which come to my mind,
in a verse of free prose,
with no sound of rhyme.
For the words which I see
bring forth the pleasure,
here in my mind
of the satisfaction of writing,
time after time.

Does love abide?
Does love abound,
Through silent nights
with daylight sounds?

May all your ills tomorrow
Be cured by the rising Sun.
May all your bad deeds be forgiven
And all your work be done,
For here's to a new beginning,
With no worry; just have some fun.

Black is the color
of this moonless night.
Black is the heart,
when he takes flight.
Fear not the darkness,
welcome the fight.
Life will be better
at Dawn's first light.

Disparage me not,
you, my true love,
for I care for you.
That is my trove.

I sit, all hunched in the chair;
elbows on knees, hands to my head.
Worried now but still unaware
of all of the words, blue and red,
flying about through the Winter air.
Why is it I am not able to see,
the words to this life's mystery?

Drive your car through the water
with the tires breaking the surface,
of the waters, smooth as glass.
Write about your new adventure.
Do it now, while memories last.
Think about the new tomorrow,
by bringing back your old past.

The wind is blowing, from the South,
Grains of sand, attack my mouth,
Pulling the hood, atop my head,
I watch closely, to where I tread.
As I step on the un-firm sand,
I return, once more, to journeys end.

Care not for I,
as I say goodbye
to life's sweet sorrow.
Away it will fly,
to a better time,
on an evening nigh,
while all you do,
is sigh and sigh.

When Dawn's light shines through the pane.
When I mutter, "I slept in again."
I rise quickly, fast for me,
Before the daylight will flee,
For I have many tasks to do,
Before my next visit with you.

I am not a poet,
I am not a bard,
for many of my writings
are actually quite hard.
So difficult to write,
not many but a few.
I will write for myself,
but do write for you.

The words are so many,
I write down a few.
How do I capture them,
When I think of you?
Words appear in a mass
of those I must undo,
to capture all the meaning.
It's what Poets will do.
Writing of words, over time,
searching for one or two,
finding words which will rhyme.
Words pouring out, so quickly,
those sublime, one more time.
Writings will fade, after ink
becomes old, with paper brittle,
thoughts now forgotten, they sink.
No one reads; very little
as I say now to you,
no matter the day it's
here now for my friend, you.