At noon they burn, in their light blue tracksuits and slogans, The law is the law and the law is light; They chant near where the kid was shot dead, left on the road for hours – while his mother sc…
Watching them fly in.
Watching them fly in
I never agreed with it
Too much emotion
The rejection said
I wrote something
After nine eleven
Watching them fly in
Not knowing
What they’d been leaving
Arriving in distress.
She had a brother
Working in the first tower
A place that I’d known
A place I’d been
She didn’t know
If he was living
The phone call came
And she smiled again
He was alive.
Long ago
As I walked home
I heard
I felt
The explosion
My classmates
Fathers, brothers
Uncles, men
Had been lost
We use that word
Too loosely.
Killed.
Too emotional.
What have we become?
Stone pillars
Wooden Indians
Vacant
People live
Vicariously
Just by television
I’ve lived in a time
That isn’t literally
Real or unreal
I write
About emotions
The connections
People, times and places
That are real.
How to Read Poems Properly
Most of my friends are poets. I’ll rephrase this because it sounds terribly pretentious. If you did a kind of job census on the people who I spend most of my time with I’m pretty sure I’d end up wi…
Source: How to Read Poems Properly
Season change
Mowed the orchard and took sheepdog for daily seven mile walk. Met dog friends! Mused why not International Poetry Day. Spoke with my friend Bill from Killarney that Yeats seems to be slipping away. Find I’ve been asked to read a voice over for a film. But I’m yearning for frosts and snow as the hint of a change of season begins the day. Tomorrow I’ll proof the stables ahead of bad weather. And my thoughts turn to Lampedusa and the roughening sea.
A childhood friend. Lest we forget!
The day the artist died
The day the artist died In memory of Marío Colín Today the artist died. Drummers drum the dancers’ steps, firm and heavy beneath the trees. The dancers dance a prayer. A black dove…
Source: The day the artist died
I Need To Be Me
I wish I could be the person You always wanted me to be I wish I could have stayed And made you happy But I need to leave I need to find myself I need to learn how to fly Without crashing I need to…
Source: I Need To Be Me
River Taff in spate
Just imagine if every river had an electric generator on every weir!
Roofied
Roofied
Twisted sheets,
Egyptian cotton,
pin me.…
my body
collected, studied,
by a face
I don’t know,
although
Its owner has been
here all night.
Has pressed
his weight
into the hollow
of the bed,
and me
underneath,
still as a fawn
caught
in the sights.
He stretches,
hung over,
brushes the nape
of my neck,
wants breakfast,
and my number,
like it never happened.
Yesterday
I went for a drink.
Yesterday …
I struggle …
Yesterday …
I struggle …
to remember.
By the poet Cath Campbell.
Drowning
Drowning
I felt the shove
At my back
And tried to turn
To find something
Firm to hold
To prevent my fall
That’s when I saw you
And my breath
Gave out
Hitting the water
But then the sinking began
The dragging down
By my wet clothes weight
Into the depths
I felt the deepening cold
Of lake water
Enter my body
And the fear too
Uncontrollable shivering
Is never
Pleasant
I sank slowly
The surface
The light
Dimming
It was the slowness
That frightened me
I needed to free myself
Of the weight
That drew me into darkness
Shedding clothes
That gripped my body
The barrier
Between life and air
There have been
More recent times
When falling into darkness
And the gut twisting
Feelings of despair
And the coldness of fear
And it was the need to let go
That saved me
And the urge
To grasp life
And head for the light.
