by Rody Gorman

Volume 7 – Issue 2 – New Poems – Rody Gorman

May 13, 2011 | by Rody Gorman

Born in Dublin in 1960, Rody Gorman is a poet who writes in English, Irish and Scottish Gaelic. His first collection, Fax and Other Poems, was published in 1996. A selection of his poems in Irish and Scottish Gaelic, Chernilo, was published in 2006. He also works as a translator: Cavafy, Yeats, Neruda, and Milosz are among the poets he has translated into Gaelic. The Cape Breton University Press is publishing his latest collection is Beartan Briste / burstbroken judgementshroudloomdeeds this year. He teaches at Sabhal Mor Ostaig on Skye.

TRÀTH

Air ais ann an taigh-‘n-aifrinn
Air an dèanamaid frithealadh tràth,
Siud mi fhìn air mo ghlacadh
Eadar na dhà cò a bu threasa
Na gathan a’ nochdadh an sin gun fhiosta
Tron uinneig ghlainne dhathte,
Na bha de shluagh an làthair
Nan tàmh nan ìomhaighean
Gun charachadh an aghaidh
Nan creag a’ sileadh
No a’ tuiteam ris an làr
Le trasgadh is dìth na h-àile.

EARLYMEALPRAYERLTIMEONCE

back in the masschapelhouse where we childbedserveattended earlymealprayerltimeonce there i am feelcaught eitherbothbetween which is the stronger of the two, the arrowbarbstingknotrays which would nakedviewappear therethen suddenlywithoutknowing through the colourstained glass recesswindow, how many spiritfolk were livevictorylocationpresent dwellsleepresting as ghostcountenanceimagestatues without moving faceagainst the rocks raindropweeping or duskdawnchancefalling to the earthcentreground with thirstfasting and diewant of windscentair

AIR SRÀID AN AONAIDH

Cho snog –
Meadhan an latha ghil,
Bodachan glas ri taobh na sràide,

Ri feitheamh air an t-solas dhearg,
Ag atharrachadh, a’ dol
Na fhear uaine.

ON UNION WALKSTREET

so/as bonnynice – waistmiddle of the whitebright day, a greygreen halfbottlespectreoldcodboy by the side of the walkstreet,

watchwaiting for the red moonphaseknowledgelight, budgeflitchangeturning, gobecoming a greenwoodenpin oneman

DOL A LAIGHE

A’ togail ceann
Bho mo shaothair is a’ coimhead a-mach
Air an uinneig is a’ chathair aice fhèin
Eadar mi fhìn ‘s a’ ghrian
‘S i dol a laighe ‘s na dathan
A’ mùthadh air a cùl, siud nam fhianais
Air èiginn carraig
No ‘s dòcha gur e th’ agam eilean beag
A’ gobadh a-mach às an linne
Nach nochd ach ainneamh
Ainneamh nuair a bhuaileas
An solas ud ball àraidh
Ri dealachadh-nan-tràth
Fada bhuainn air fàire.

SINKING

headend upbringlifting from my tidalislandbirthpainsouevre and preservewatching out the window and her thronechair eitherbothbetween me and the seabottomsunland going down and the dyecolours changeperishing behind there in witnesspresence just about is a cockroachknotheadlandrock or maybe a youngwee island gobsticking out of the centurysound that appears only rarely when that moonphaseknowledgelight hits a particular peniscablebowlspot at onceearlyprayermealpartingtime farawaywanting from us on the horizonridge

LORG EILE

Air ais cuide ri càch anns a’ chlachan,
Chaidh mi gan lorg anns a h-uile bad
Mar gum b’ ann air falach-fead.

Chuir mi ceist air an fheadhainn
A bh’ ann o chionn fhada. ‘S e thuirt iad:
Ghabh iad an t-sligh’ ud!

ANOTHER THIGHCRUTCHWOMANOFFSPRINGTRACECONSEQUENCE

back with the rest in the goggle-eyestonechurchyardtesticlevillage, i went to tracelook for them in every flockbushspot like at whistlehidenseek

i asked them that were there in it a longtimeback and they said they singburnholdwent that journeyway!

From this Issue

Reviews: THE BICYCLE BOOK

by Bella Bathurst

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