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Waves crashing photo

Peace

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Regarding "Peace"

Nowhere can be better
Seen the majesty of all Creation than
At the seashore of this
Glorious earth. Just even a few
Moments alone on the beach in the
Company of all the nameless grains of sand
And seashells and stones
Cannot help but
Give the startling impression
Of the overwhelming
Power and magnitude of
Creation…and yet, at every high tide,
The waves come in and caress
Each grain of sand and shell as if
Their only task that day
Was to wash each one and
To make them lamb-like clean,
As if this was the first time
And not the infinite occasion
That they were being bathed,
And no task was more
Important that day than buffing holy
Their sheen with the tide…

Leo Carroll
April 16, 2018

 

Washed all clean,
Like in an Elysian Fields
Dream, was
Placed a beach,
Where onto its
Sands in rolling
Fealty came
Breakers and foam
In trembling and
Kneeling…

Leo Carroll
April 5, 2005
Plum Island, Massachusetts



Photo by Jim Sonia
Photo of Field in Ireland

Ode to Dromod’s Field

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Regarding "Ode to Dromod’s Field"

In September 2000, two of
My daughters went to Ireland, and
While there visited a cemetery
In County Kerry where some of the
Forebears of my father’s family were buried.
My daughters asked me if I wanted
To accompany them. I told them,
“No,” that I was busy with other
Things I was doing. They persisted in
Asking me. I persisted in
Saying, “no.” And so they went
Alone, to traverse the land
Where four generations before
Some of my ancestors had
Left Ireland. I should have gone.
I knew it even before they
Returned. I could tell in their
Voices over the international
Telephone lines that they
Had touched something
Like a heartbeat or the flesh
Of a palm no longer heard or felt.
I saw the photos when they returned,
And my eyes were overwhelmed
By the power of the images.
And so I came to write this poem of
A burial ground in Dromod, County Kerry,
Which saw the faces of my
Daughters, and in seeing their
Features, saw mine, too…as well as
The likenesses of their sons
And daughters who had left
Long generations before.

Leo Carroll
September 3, 2018

 

Upon your stones we move about, in
Prayerful search ‘midst this wheat throughout.
We never knew ye, but feel sure, you
Watch us tread this earthen floor.
From thy loins sprang Dromod seed, a
Comely fruit and sweet-isle mead.
These sons and daughters cupped your
Hand, kissed it gently, then sailed your land.
Lo years later, with them long gone,
You see us now as we part these thorns.
We’ve come to say we love you, too, and
Brush these stones etched in dew.
For as we spread these weeds grown
Wild, you see our faces and ken our smiles.
On our faces, likened clear, are the long
Ago images of your children dear.
Know ye then, people of yore, we’ve
Come to sit your lap once more.
Against your breast we commune and sleep, safe
In the warmth your field doth keep.

Leo Carroll
September 3, 2000
Old Cemetery in Slahig, Dromod Parish Area
County Kerry, Ireland



Photo by Pamela Lee
Photo of a field in late Autumn

Choosing Heaven

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Regarding "Choosing Heaven"

In the woods of
Maine, no matter which
Way I walked, even
If I went in the
Wrong direction and
Somehow got
“Turned around” and
Was temporarily
Lost, I always
Was on the path to
Heaven, because
Any spot in
Those pristine
Woods was as if
Peering into the looking
Glass at all the
Ramparts of
The Almighty’s
Palace on the
Glistening heights of
Caesarea…
Thus tries to
Speak this poem…
To the left —
If I wandered
Into a
Prototypical
Maine field — it
Was as if I
Had come before
The font of
All wisdom
And understanding.
If I walked down
The path to
The right — my
Spirit was blessed
With all the
Hues of autumn, as if
Sprinkled from
Creation’s fingers.

Leo Carroll
June 3, 2018

 

In which
Direction should I
Choose to go,
As I muse
The best path
In my pilgrim’s walk
To follow…?
To the left
Leads me into
A glorious meadow
Of milkweed
And its pod,
While to
The right
Meanders a
Rough-hewn
Road,
Where a
Canopy of
Golden
Shade and
Shadow awaits to
Clothe me
In the hues I
Long…

Leo Carroll
November 18, 1999
Morrill, Maine



Photo by Jack Hudgins
Image of the field

The Field

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Regarding "The Field"

I was once given a gift,
A gift shown to me by a friend,
A gift beyond words to ever adequately
Describe, and a gift
Surpassing all measure and
Human treasure.
It was a place in the
Middle of the Maine woods,
Secluded, a field, a golden field,
Surrounded by old stone
Walls, inhabited by
Everything good that
Could ever be said
About the purity and
Hardscrabble spirit of Maine,
And it was in that field I learned
I could rest in solitude
Amongst the milkweed pod, and
Could recline in ease and
Peace with my name.

Leo Carroll
April 24, 2018

 

I stepped into a Maine-filled field,
Breathed its life and felt its feel,
When then I spied the milkweed pod, and
Mused they lined the path to God…
So amongst the pod I reclined myself, and
Spread my cares before that land devout. When
Then replied from a treetop far, crow’s
Answering call in knowing “caw.”

Leo Carroll
November 18, 1999
Morrill, Maine



Photo by Jack Hudgins

Prequel to ‘Elysian Daydreaming’

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Regarding "Prequel to ‘Elysian Daydreaming’"

This poem was
Written six months after I wrote
“Elysian Daydreaming.” The two poems are
Companions to one another, but this
Poem is actually a prequel,
And depicts events
Leading up to, and prior to, the
First poem of July 1, 1998.
It describes the moments just
Before my dreamlike boat ride with
An unknown, mythical
Woman. Both poems
Are still very peaceful to me,
Lo all these twenty plus
Years later. They portray the
Exquisite happiness existing
Between a man and a woman in
The heavenly setting of an
Unbelievably placid lake in an
Unbelievably perfect time
And daydream.

Leo Carroll
February 5, 2019

 

I envision a woman
Upon a dock, a woman absorbed in
Blissful thought.

This woman slowly
Turns my way, as if expecting my
Arrival today…

Tied to the dock gently
Rocks a small boat, a boat at rest in
Elysian float.

This boat rides with a
Soothing sigh, knowing soon that
Two souls abide…

Leo Carroll
January 1, 1999
Westford, Massachusetts



Photo by Kacper Chrzanowski (via Unsplash.com)