Ashes, Lies, and Good-byes
(to no-one in particular)
It's all the same,
just another face, a different name.
Story ends; it was just a game.
A heart shattered;
it never mattered
not to you, not to him, nor the other.
Just evening a score
for the one who hurt you before.
Taking what you can on the fly.
Writing another chapter in life's book
of ashes, lies, and good-byes.
~ Brenda Elizabeth Novack
(July 9, 2018)

What am I?
I am joy; I am pain.
I am sun; I am rain.
I am the broken wave upon the shore.
I am day; I am night.
I am death; I am life.
I am the seed of my doing and undoing.

I sing; I cry.
I fall; I fly.
I am the root and the tumbling leaf.

I am many; I am one.
I am all; I am none.
I am never and forever.
Who am I?

~ Brenda Elizabeth Novack
   (January, 2015)

I Heard the Banshee
 Twilight in the west of Ireland,
a little place called Skreen,
where the veil is very thin.
Treading familiar path,
Knocknarea and Ben Bulben gazing upon my back,
steps too hurried for stillness
of a peaceful country eve,
mind preoccupied with this and that.
I must do this tonight and that tomorrow,
and what a lovely day today
with my wonderful friend at the sea!
Soft air pierced by unfamiliar shriek,
neither animal, bird, human, nor machine.
Chill runs up my spine,
gaze jolted from ground,
eyes scanning field for source of haunting sound,
but all is quiet now;
nothing stirs but dreadful realization of what was heard
the eerie Banshee!!!
 She tried to warn me,
but shaken to the core with fear,
I resumed my pace, refused to hear.
Dismissed her as imagination running wild,
evicted her from thought like frightened child.
It must have been something else, but what?
 Now I know.
She does not lie.
The Banshee called.
You soon would die.
She meant no harm.
She caused no pain.
She came to warn me of the rain
about to fall within all hearts
when you, my friend, had to depart.
Be forever at peace.
 ~ Brenda Elizabeth Novack
(October 20, 2014)

Ladies Brae Road

I miss the views of Ladies Brae

Dappled sunlit trees

Sloping mountain backdrop

Painted by a whispering breeze.

Scent of ancient earth

Giants’ Grave and Knocknarea

Ben Bulben stretched out sleeping

Where that famous poet lay.

 I miss the chatter of the creek

Beckoning me along

Stone walls adorned with ivy

Holly bush, gentle birdsong.

 I miss the spirit of that place

Where seen and unseen meet

Light and landscape mingling

Rainbows playing hide-and-seek.

Starlit winter evening

Moonlit creaking iron gate

Trodden, earthen pathway

Turf smoke drifting from fireplace.

 Peaceful slumber, tucked away

From daylight’s gazing eye

Solitude in sacred space . . .

Good-bye, My Love, good-bye.

~ Brenda E. Novack
(August 19, 2010)
(for Ken Roddy)

Nini is a small dog,
But this she does not know.
Confidence is Nini’s style;
With it she steals the show.
Greeting every passenger
Who boards the Skellig boat,
Nini plays the socialite
And loves her life afloat.
She prances to and fro
In her coat of fiery red,
And choosing any stranger’s lap,
Nini makes her bed.

She snuggles up in perfect form
And falls asleep content,
For Nini is the well-loved dog
Of a master heaven-sent.
Her dreams remain a secret
To all but Nini’s heart,
But they must be truly manifold,
For sleep is Nini’s art.

She wags her little foxtail
On waking from her land
Of fantasy and magic,
Where everything is grand.

Her day at sea is ended,
And duty calls her back
To the task of playing with children
Who reward her with a snack.
Nini is a fine dog
Who knows the way to live;
She takes a little here and there,
But Nini also gives!

~ Brenda Elizabeth Novack
(August 21, 2009)
© Brenda E. Novack 2018