Three poems by Hayden Murphy for Bloomsday

Today is Bloomsday and as promised, we have another small selection of poems to mark this occasion written by Hayden Murphy. Two Bloomsday poemshave already appeared on this site, but these three are of an altogether more personal import. ‘Telemachus’ was written to commemorate Bloomsday 100 in 2004 and has appeared in an eighteen poem sequence relating to Joyce’s Ulysses entitled Modalities (Roncadora Press, 2005). ‘A Modest Proposal’ was for Bloomsday 2008 and ‘Second Sight’ for Bloomsday 2013.

Here Hayden himself explains the poems for Bloomsday project which he has been engaged in for over fifty years:

Since June 16th 1969, in Paris, I have attempted to mark Bloomsday with a “word offering”, in a limited edition (50), for distribution among friends. I have always tried to collaborate with a visual artist in these publications. I have been fortunate since 1992 to work with the Scottish artist and publisher Hugh Bryden. In 2014, to mark the 110 commemoration of the events related in James Joyce’s Ulysses, The Consulate of Ireland to Scotland, in Edinburgh, mounted a retrospective exhibition of our work together and a selection of correspondence with recipients down the years including the poets Brendan Kennelly, Edwin Morgan and Seamus Heaney and the dramatist Brian Friel ( Bloomsdays Abroad: June 16th-21st, ).

 

Hayden Murphy

Edinburgh: April 2020.

 

 

TELEMACHUS

 

In a bright silent instant

Stephen saw his own image in cheapdusty

Mourning between their gay attires.

–  It’s  a wonderful tale, Haines said,

– Bringing them to a halt again.

                                                           Ulysses

 

Wave shaves wave in the tower shadow. Let

Day begin on this watercolouring trampoline.

Razor sharp summersaulting sentences

 

Let loose their words. They walk the tight

Rope held by their circus animals half

Tamed. Associate with strangers. Press on.

 

Recite again.    Stop, be  slow.       Recite

Again until the wordweave’s right. Now

Abandon silence. Sea salmon sirens leap.

 

Now we are tenderly safe to declare love.

 

 

A MODEST PROPOSAL

For Frances

 

Say a few simple words

he could twist how he liked

not acting with precipit

precipitancy with equal candour

the greatest earthly happiness

answer to a gentlemans proposal

                                                              Ulysses

 

Take this hand

To tongue and tell

Its palm to salt

The moment for all

 

It’s worth. A moment

Of much that stills

The mouth until, word

Wise, abandoned silence

 

Tells of the taste

Of love’s song

Flavouring the air’s

Rhodendron breath.

 

Grace note be born.

 

The watchman going about

serene with his lamp….

Oh and the sea the sea crimson

sometimes like fire

and the glorious sunsets..where

I was a flower of the mountain yes

                                                               Ulysses

 

 

SECOND SIGHT

The kind of understanding that consists in seeing connections.

                                                                                                Ludwig Wittgenstein

 

Holding fast to the tender contradiction

Between sight and vision. A voyage on water.

Only a heart-beat lies in the eye-blink. The pause.

I hold fast to the words treasured in my tender lies.

 

Confuse me with brightness, please. Preferably by water.

 

Now let me leave the Joycewords for another day.

Now let sight associate with sound.

 

The eyes become curator rather than narrator.

 

The heart’s perspective, the peripheral slight of echo

In the memory. Nuance’s imperative. The distracting line.

The bird flight heard but unseen. A ship drydocked.

A dream stranded in these nights when eyes are closed.

 

Sailing towards Ithaca my Third Eye blinked.

 

The seal cavorting on the seaside of my eyes became

The night’s bat fornicating with the abandoned owl of day.

 

Holding fast now to the inside vision in this dream

Of this voyage in a returning ship narrated not curated

By my crew composed of my internal bestiary:

Owls, dragons, belfry bats and The Yellow Bittern’s ghost.

 

I travel only by water.

 

Now as this poem is ending I am blind

                                      To all but the weight of this poem non-ending.

 

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