Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

Rookie (8 November 1968 / Dublin Ireland)

Geraldine Moorkens Byrne Poems

1. No More Rebel Songs 3/30/2006
2. What I Gave Up For New Year 3/30/2006
3. Dowsing 3/30/2006
4. Snow In Dublin 3/30/2006
5. Solstice 3/31/2006
6. Overheard 3/31/2006
7. Where Once Stood Tribes 4/28/2006
8. The Homecoming 6/30/2006
9. Lament, Of Change 7/20/2006
10. Encounter 7/21/2006
11. Presents Of Minds 7/21/2006
12. In Morning Mist 3/22/2007
13. From The Secret Diary Of A Capitalist 3/22/2007
14. There Are Scratches Now 3/22/2007
15. Virtual Betrayal 3/22/2007
16. Panic? No. 3/22/2007
17. Scorpio 3/22/2007
18. Swans And Chimney Stacks 3/31/2007
19. Sweet, I Kiss Your Lips 4/17/2007
20. Firewall 4/4/2006
21. On The South Side Of The Lake 7/25/2006
22. Firenne 7/25/2006
23. Stolen 10/16/2007
24. The Gypsy Came, Riding. 2/8/2008
25. Crossings 2/8/2008
26. Lord Vesuvius Sits Sullen 10/29/2008
27. Making Links 12/4/2008
28. Yule At The Court Of Maeve 5/29/2009
29. The Old Familiar Faces 5/12/2010
30. Making Amends 5/12/2010
31. Bealtine 4/28/2006
32. The Alabaster Babe 4/28/2006
33. Terrority 4/28/2006
34. The Garden Of The Wild Wild Rose 7/25/2006
35. Pomegranate 3/22/2007
36. Blood Fetters - History Erased. 6/26/2008
37. And The Leaves Begin To Turn... 9/18/2008
38. Look At Me 10/29/2008
39. I Looked Across 10/29/2008
40. Yellow 10/29/2008

Comments about Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

Ancestor

If I should die tonight
and my bones laid in the earth
would my voice not be the wind
and the sun my smile?
I am the blood in your veins;
all the lives I have lived
have been, in this way,
transmuted to new life
flowing from your heart to mine.
I am the beat of the Bodhrán
and the touch of the line on water
I am the thought unbidden
the instinct that springs -
If you listen not to me,
then you ignore yourself,
and silence your own voice.
I am the string plucked,
the note quivering
the dream sung by voices
you remember ...

Read the full of Ancestor

Saving Sylvie

I was restored by the sight of her
my bustling nursing Sylvie with long smiles,
and I told her so.
She shook her head, still smiling.

I am the last patient in a ward
of ten; the others have been cured
and moved on, to families
and welcomes home.

[Report Error]