Frank Corcoran

irish composer

FREEZING HAIKUS AT CHRISTMAS 2016

At Kelvin zero / My music slows un poco / Icy minims burst.

Once it was a jar / All Etruscan arrogance / See this cracked piss-pot

Herald angels sing : Glory to our King´s nappies May they melt this cold

This jar of water As if poor Keats´s urn Will not split across

Happy the camel Under Arabian sky No frost underfoot

From cracked clay that jug Sub-zero temperature Cracks its beauty now

Our unmild Buddha: ” Look ! That crack on the jug´s lip ! ” Cold terra cotta

Frozen electrons Challenge their Cold Creator: ” Heat us up! Kiss us! ”

John Keats , shivering, Turned, touched, stroked his Grecian Urn Ice-drops his poor tears

My tones are cold grapes Frosty in this Polar air I embrace myself

Van Gogh´s cold fingers Daubed in his cold water-jug ” Will Spring come, O Herr ? ”

dúisithe ag oighear an próca uisce scoilte aige ( Gabriel Rosenstock )

Posted under: Humble Hamburg Musings

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