BLACK DOG MORNING

Somewhere in the night My Black Dog waits for me. Catching me unawares In the morning As I rise, Completely unprepared For his slobbering attention. I can only let him Have his fun with me And wait ’til He lies exhausted from his play. (c) 30/07/17 Advertisements

Life

I was very angry when I wrote this poem many years ago. I had spent a number of hours in the National Gallery. Surrounded by great art in the company of many strangers from home and abroad, cosseted from the reality of the lives other humans endured on the streets of our city. We in…

There is a Madness in the Land.

I found this poem recently which I had written nearly ten years ago. The news was full, it seemed at the time, of horrific stories of violence on the streets and in the homes of our land. I not talking of terrorism or gang related violence, but of individual acts of murder and manslaughter. I…

Moe’s Café, Tramore, Waterford.

  A chance meeting in that café by the beach, Where we sat and chatted easily as only family can, About life and plans and age and youth and memories we share. ‘Though we don’t meet that often it didn’t really matter, ‘Cos for that time we were together all our lives were one.

TO THE KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO KNOW NOTHING.

Ya can keep yer priests Yer rabbis too. All yer mullahs, imams, Yer atheistical crew.   Politicos and terrorists, Who raise the flag Of sect and country, Leave me to my crag.   You’ve all the answers Expounded with certitude. Vomiting words ‘Times eloquent, ‘times crude.   I for one know nothing With absolute certainty. In…

A Falling Leaf.

Nor guilt nor grief Shall torment me When in the ground I lie. For

Is This a Poem ?

  What a strange time. What a strange place to be. Within me . Without me . Floating and sinking at at the same time. Feeling deeply . Not feeling at all. Holding back. Letting go. Reaching out. Curling into a ball. Smiling . Frowning. Laughter and tears. One begetting the other. Neither elation nor…

Damburst of words. ( What if ? )

What if words came flowing out ? What if things unsaid flew from me ? What if the dam burst and All I felt and held Screamed and flowed and tumbled free ? Oh Jesus what if ? What if ? What if ? What if ? Would I be free ? Would I feel…

Winter has come.

Last night you passed away From us and so My grief for you Begins today.