Tag: mountain

10 minute poem

(For Robert & Juliette)

I must arise and go now
and go beyond the Pale,
and a small forest grow there,
a heart and mind remake.
And I shall have some ease there,
and peace to rest my limbs,
and she will wait upon the seas,
and walk on roots of birch and spruce.
And I shall call her on the wind,
like gull and hawk in sun.

I must clear out this festering way
and take a mountain step
across the lake that’s shaped my view,
and bid my drive farewell.
When oft I rest in thrall of moon,
and bless the hour that’s struck,
you’ll see me stride among the stars
‘mid leaves that paint a life sublime.
I’ll draw my warmth from a fire she’ll set,
and crack a bottle of wine.

_____________________

Note: This poem was originally composed in 10 minutes – while being recited into my iphone. It took a lot longer than that to knock into this shape.

Condescending You, Condescending Me

I was on my way from life to death,

Crossing over from poverty,

Searching for what’s right for me.

It’s a mountain hard enough to climb,

A mountain hard enough to climb.

Condescending me,

Looking down on me,

From way up high on your pedestal.

You whispered to me ever so free,

You spoke to me ever so free,

with a smirk in your eyes

“You are a woman,

I see you can sing,

and you really can dance,

you even understand,

and you’ll improve

and you’ll grow up

and realise why I’m so wise.”

– With a smirk on your face

You put me in my place..

Condescending you,

condescending me.

I met you in the bar that night,

and in the club where we danced all right.

My hopes arose, I was aroused

by the look in your eyes

by the cut of your gib.

By your sighs,

you seemed ever so wise.

It was a shock, it was a rock,

It was demise,

I could see in your eyes.

“That’s good for a woman,

that’s good for a woman,

That’s ever so human.

I’m very impressed,

You’re not even stressed.”

Your tone was a knife,

it cut me apart

Your look was a spear

flung deep in my heart.

You woke me that night

Condescending me

Condescending you

From your mountain top,

to a weed below,

Condescending me

Condescending you.

I was on my way, from life to death,

crossing over from poverty,

searching for what’s right for me.

And it sure ain’t you,

And it sure ain’t you

Condescending you.

You can fuck yourself

You can fuck yourself

I’m looking after me

I’m looking after me.

I’m looking after me.

Insidious

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Insidious

I was walking along a couple of roads,
one turned to the sea, the wave, the water, the tide …
one sloped to the mountain, the scree, the rock, the peak …
I followed a breath like a hunter.

There were distractions,
high like eagles,
busy like bees,
imaginations
like sugar,
addictions,
paradise,
a sweet-shop shining
scent of fish
nectar,
pollen,
ice.

I was walking along a couple of roads
when the earth gave birth to twins,
and twins to twins
I followed a breath like a hunted fox.

You just came to me

You just came to  me 

To Mike Hegarty in his haven
 (with acknowledgement to Seamus Heaney)

Pig-sty to cattle track, anemones to fountain-pen,
you sat in yellowed armchair, among psychiatric alumni,
released into a fighting street-scape,
where burnt-out cars took place of bicycles.
Your warrior-self listened to every voice
with the greeting of a saint
who wrote with a sun-lit plume.

Prince of the messengers,
carrier of connections,
pointing companions around wild flowers,
through the thicket of everyday life,
out into a clearing, ever shadowed,
ever dappled,
your painterly hand ever active,

you spoke of trees in a family field,
the feed from bonamhs that licked your fingertips,
the rub of the beast that reminded you of animated conversations,
the rough warm blanket into which you were born.
You walked every inch of the lane that led from farm-house,
past copulating ragwort, to a table strewn with words
drawn together for the sake of safe passage.

In that armchair, you smiled through dark-rimmed spectacles,
turned a tongue around considered thoughts
that vied for voice.
In a flash, you held back
eager sperm-like phrases
in favour of a diamond-eyed glint,
before you spoke the timbre of imagined rest.

I wondered who you were in that evening circle –
just as I wonder now.
You just came to me –
as if I were high in a mountain stream, surrounded by parakeets,
and the echo of flowers talking to the wind –
as if you put a hand in the pocket of your overcoat,
and produced a map for me to read.

_________________________

Written in memory and honour 
of my friend Mike Hegarty.  
Inspired by "To Mick Joyce in Heaven" 
by Seamus Heaney 
- to be found in "District and Circle" 
- first read on Friday 18 May 2007 in Adare.