Tuesday, May 26, 2026

THE YELLOW ROSE GARDEN


 


THE YELLOW ROSE GARDEN

Golestān-e Zard

 

 

Yellow

In the morning gloam, there is, at first, silence.

The sea fog lingers and like spectral ships

Bog cotton heads sag as moisture 

Drips.

Then out of the mist, a coloured gleam,

*ǵʰelh₃ -, yellow's root from Badakhshan skips,

West, with merchants' lapis lazuli and language 

Trips.

 

Yellow

Vibrant Gorse with coconut scent

Pulling the warped boreen ajar

Above the fog a seldom heard churring call

fr.

Arabic root for a pale colour, also a void

To whistle; an unseen nightjar

Tormentil underfoot; pure gold

aṣfar.

 

Yellow,

With warming sun the fog abates.

Bird’s foot trefoil and buttercups sheath,

Meadow and creeping, and kidney vetch

Beneath. 

Along the path majestic weeds: sowthistle,

Hawksweed, dandelion and ragworth wreath

A sometime unwelcome blaze on bog myrtle’s

Heath. 

 

 

Yellow,

Once In Ériu’s wooden heart, Beltaine's speckled light

A maypole of avens and charlock train

Black medic, and black magic

Reign.

The meandering stream through bowers of imperial Iris,

Where cowslips, pimpernel, and tutsan frame

With celandine and laburnum, a golden 

Rain.

 

 

Yellow

Across ebb sands below a midden dance, hawkbit

Then silverweed, a rose by any other name array

Amongst the radishes and cabbage

Midday.

I pause, a gnomon on the landscape,

Seeking, searching, for a thruway

To a yellow rose garden of

May.

 

 

Yellow

Once, in another rose garden in Shiraz, 

I sought out Saadi’s grave; the Sufi’s rapture

Of harmony in his Gulistan, the first

Chapter

States, humans are of one soul

And a plea that their grief is your grief, fracture

When salvation upon the seas Israeli soldiers

Capture.

 

 

Yellow

In Haaretz and other stolen lands

Shavuot’s first fruits are wove,

Then savoured without Ruth’s 

Love.

Moi, a pagan pilgrim; for a pen touched

Esther and Mordecai’s tomb in a Hamadan grove,

Where Shavuot is Moed-e-Gol, a festival of flowers

Behove.

 

Yellow

I head home, a long way from Gaza, Lebanon and Iran,

Where there, as here, wild mustard blooms in grit, 

In graveyards and abandoned fields;

Sunlit.

Before dusk, before the nightjar sings;

The yellow fields of May, I quit

But hope that another morn brings a better

Writ.


(Galway, 26th may 2026)



Tuesday, March 03, 2026

THE 1904 GREAT GALWAY X RAYS TRIAL

 


The University of Galway kindly facilitated open access under a Creative Commons 4.0 licence for this historical article of mine, published online in the Irish Journal of Medical Science (1971- ) today.


The Link is