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.

John Lunney
2003


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.

John Lunney
12/04/2009