Saturday, February 24, 2018

War: Never-Ending Harvest

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    Early each morning, the river is obscured by fog; sounds come ashore like cries from Limbo. At dawn the young women come, s...
Monday, February 19, 2018

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On Leinster Road Warm, languorous Summer’s afternoon; chestnuts in full bloom, students chatting on the steps, sipping cans of ...
Thursday, February 15, 2018

Where the blood rose grew

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This is where the executions happened; in this yard, in the sun; or more likely under clouds; here. This is the place of killings...
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Monday, February 12, 2018

Some poems just refuse to form

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Some poems just refuse to form. The idea is there: the feeling, the imagery, but like pieces of jigsaw that have been incorrectly cut, the p...
Friday, February 9, 2018

Returning

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It was the snow that brought me back; its peace and space; finding myself again, after all that clutter. With each falling flak...
Monday, February 5, 2018

Philip Casey

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I was so sorry to hear of Philip Casey's death; he was a most likeable person. Though I didn't know him particularly well, it refle...
Sunday, February 4, 2018

Beautiful Day

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in memory of my mother, Teresa The sheets are billowing on the clothes’ lines; they’re  between us, so I walk across the grass un...
Saturday, February 3, 2018

Beautiful

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Sitting on a park-bench, a slanting shaft of sunlight before me and, like a hologram, a thousand golden flies moving like atoms ins...
Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Ena's Portrait

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I am looking at a portrait of Ena; the artist’s view of Ena; the artist catching something of Ena much deeper than facial express...
Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Perspective

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I’ve been seeing January migrations of geese in the powder blue sky above Dublin; those ever-shifting arrows sign-posting exotic, f...
Thursday, January 25, 2018

Mist on the Mountain

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The hunch-backed hag is dragging plants from out of the ground, black ridges etched into the hillside. She pays me no attention thou...
Monday, January 22, 2018

Clearing out

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Emptying shelves onto the floor. Thirty years: defunct, useless stuff clogging up the box room. Fuck it out, all of it. Pack...
Thursday, January 18, 2018

Homeward

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In the beautiful days of childhood, I was a kite filled with the exhilaration of blue skies; trees I climbed presented their branches...
Monday, January 15, 2018

The fact that cannot be known until the time is ripe.....................................

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When you reach the end, turn around and start back. More slowly now, more deliberate, less wasteful. There is little time, none t...
Saturday, January 13, 2018

You Asleep

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I am watching you sleeping; withdrawn to that room, your nightly retreat, where you will go at the end to nurse the petering flam...
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