Young men fighting an old war in the woods,
Clad in cast-off coats of another oppressor.
Walk down a valley of quiet women and no men to work
The mine they guard - truck tracks between the pines.
The morning rays warm the heartland,
House on the hill glows saffron once more.
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category
OF 29 YEARS'
THIS WAR IS ALL FOR LOVE OF YOU
+ KATE + THE REST
I'LL SEE THEM SOON
HAM U. YOU TELL "CURLEY" ILL PUT HER ON MY LIST I'LL SMASH HER FACE ILL PUT THAT GRIN ON OTEER SIDE
Three very short stories, written a number of years ago, each structured to fit in one text message on a Nokia 3310 (title not included).
Man In The Chair
Facing the wall today. He prefers the window, even when it rains, not that they know. He'd turn aside, but- The impotence is maddening, mist fills the gardens.
M2, clouds of spray to Belfast and on to Dublin. Whin at side, trees beyond, blue-barriered bridge. The inevitable Ford Mondeo. Wet road, verge, fence, church.
Home from his conference in the sun, she holds him. She always worries, and he can fix the sink. He takes off his ring. She cries at his finger tanned beneath.
Outside the city,
The scientist thought was safe
Lies now, falling leaves.
A tank trundles past and into the trees -
And disappears quickly out of sight,
And there's no-one round who sees
The tiny and flickering prick of light.
Some soldiers pass, running at a trot
And yet still no notice is shown
The soldier lying on the ground is no longer hot
And from his lips escapes a moan.
He has what every poet hates, in spite
Of all the loneliness and devastation.
Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the night
And the dark and cold and no circulation.
Lying at a tank track, but no-one sees the ring
His broken body and every bleeding thing.
This poem is a parody, of sorts, of a very famous Patrick Kavanagh poem, Inniskeen Road : July Evening, which can be read here.
Re-posted from the old johnl.org
The man on the park bench
Was a spy.
I know he was,
Because he said he wasn't.
Somewhere in my apartment
There's a bug.
But I can't find it,
They're too good at hiding things.
One time at night I heard
A click on the phone.
They're listening now,
So I don't talk any more.