Biography of Chris Lane
Cuirfidh sé faoi
deara na saoráidí
is gá a sholáthar
Rí na Tuaisceart.
Rí na Tuaisceart
i mbeagán focal;
bliain bhisigh go deo,
arís agus arís eile.
Nach tú atá fiosrach!
'Maith go leor, mar sin.
Ní chuirfidh mé níos mó ceisteanna ort'
Lig dom! Fág dom i m'éinear!
Sorcha Ní Laighin
Nach mé an t-amadán!
Is crá croí é!
i bhfad ag imeacht!
Réidh le éigríoch.
A chuisle mo chroi
An bhfuil tú damhsa liom?
Gráím thú - Ádhraím thú
Le grá go deo
Táim i ngrá leat.
Chris Lane Poems
Alien Love Sent from above Characteristically, Inherent Perfection.
Mesmerized By Your Touch
I knew that this would happen I'm mesmerized by your touch addicted to the feeling your energy in your touch.
Half Moon Birdsong Of Spring
Half moon drifted westwards An early birdsong signals dawn Pushing the soil aside Little shoots
Aboriginal All alone in the World On the biggest island in the Ocean Until when, The Europeans
Cyberspacewriter - Cyber Space Writer
Dear Sir or Madam Won't You read my poem It took a while to write Won't You take a look!
Mother After Mother
Mother after Mother Surviving evolution Reaffirms the overall Requirements for balance
Are You Awake? Goddess
Are you awake Goddess? asked Lugh. The Goddess opens her eyes And the now familiar radiant glow
Not A Witch Hunt
This is not a Witch hunt and You are not on trial but for sure I am bewitched when you make me smile.
Goddess Of The Cutting Edge.
She possesses beauty every pore of her body leaching forgotten enthusiasm
Under The Freedom Of Thought Act
Under the freedom of thought act I have been accused of Many misdemeanors Included were thoughts of innocence.
She stood, her toes gripping the cliff edge Each and every morning for six months long. Stretching her wings allowing the warm up draughts To catch, elevate and stretch, strengthen and mend
Robert Wolfgang ''Wofie'' S
He came instinctively with inbuilt Freudian Psychology which was both a blessing and a curse All this knowing automatically, would leave him distressed. I recommended Jung, better for the collective.
Twisting By Degrees
It is strange to some degree Everything that is being Written of or said is not always original
Spark The Darkness.
In the absence of light, darkness appears triumphant One single spark appears hopefully brilliant.
Man Clancy_Down Under
There was a man from kinsale
Who wished never to sail,
'Till one day - starvation ravaged his lands
With this he threw up his hands.
Sceach by his side on an ocean wide.
Granuawale, cut freely
The three mast schooner
The wind blew her sooner