Martin Swords

Rookie (9th December Nineteen Fifty / Tiglin, Wicklow, Ireland)

Martin Swords Poems

1. Newenglanding 7/29/2007
2. Sarah's Saturday 2/5/2008
3. The Land Of Longing 8/23/2008
4. Verdun, Return 8/23/2008
5. It's Better With The Good Eye 8/23/2008
6. That Mary Duffy One 8/29/2008
7. A View At Rheinfall 8/30/2008
8. Sorry, Too Late 8/31/2008
9. Dorothy Horan's Good Advice 9/24/2008
10. Nora Prays For Peace Surely 9/29/2008
11. The Walking Man 10/3/2008
12. School Daze 10/21/2008
13. Mountain Stream Song 11/11/2008
14. Listening At Sally Gap 7/2/2009
15. Significant Children 9/24/2009
16. Wesht 9/27/2010
17. Ritual Remembered 10/13/2010
18. Steppe 7/16/2007
19. The Dark 11/13/2007
20. To Americans, English, And Others 4/4/2010
21. It Was A Good Day 6/23/2007
22. Lonliness 11/27/2008
23. Gold Ring 8/29/2008
24. The Girl With The Sad In Her Eyes 8/31/2008
25. Pangs 8/25/2008
26. New York Valentine 9/11 3/1/2008
27. The Shallowman 6/14/2007
28. Regret 11/27/2008
29. Broad Casting 3/12/2009
30. House Of Fun 11/27/2007
31. Two Soldiers Passing In One Thought 9/27/2010
32. The Valley Of The Two Lakes 7/29/2007
33. One Day In Mind 8/16/2007
34. The Birches At Birkenau 6/14/2007
35. P.S. New York 6/14/2007
36. Hermitage 11/11/2009
37. Empatheia 11/6/2008
38. Some Times 11/6/2008
39. Tableau For Armistice Day 11/11/2008
40. Half Past Midnight Grafton Street 3/12/2009
Best Poem of Martin Swords

A Walk In The Woods With Robert Frost

Overcast but warm,
The day dry, unusually.
Walking the woods with the dogs
As many times before.
Lucy and Tig, away in the rough dark deep,
Yipping with the scent of deer, excited.
Ruby, river scrambling, biting
At the bogwater, wagging, from the shoulders back



Along the old familiar track, into
The clearing where the roads diverge.
I stopped and stood. Which way to go?
Think of another Poet, and roads not taken.
Yes, I’ve been here before. This way I came.
That way I saw a squirrel once.
And down that way a badger
Straight on, the ...

Read the full of A Walk In The Woods With Robert Frost

This Is The Place

Where words and wisdom
Grow on trees
Rich ripe ready words
Falling on paper
Rhythms too are there
On branches, waving
In the wind
And thought bunches
Blossoming, scent

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