A Jackdaw Sings Read online

What feels like, is a heaven bed

  Where noone, nothing

  Or adversity can touch

  And squinting windows

  Have no place,

  Where touching stars

  Can find escape to dream;

  Tide at one end

  And the other of the day

  Leave in between a life-span

  It seems for lovers

  Safe within a rock-wall

  And a sea-embrace;

  The sand-bed grows

  As the high tide ebbs

  And the water grows again

  To sink the sand-quilt

  Where two lovers lie in one,

  A moment of eternity,

  And the sea will leave

  No place for them

  Except the certainty

  That their cycle will endure;

  As the waters grow

  From the sea-belly

  The two spirits

  Must part and leave,

  The ocean swells

  Toward the narrow cove,

  A waiting haven,

  And drives impassioned,

  Engorged to a sea-penis,

  It presses and penetrates

  The vulval walls in rhythm

  Again

  Again

  Again ‘til spent

  And recedes

  Then calmly fulfilled

  Leaving behind

  A sated glistening;

  Two spirits

  Watch from the cliff-top

  Wanting waiting

  And then again

  They take back

  Their special space.

  THE KISS

  Deadwood drifted in a bog alone

  And it was lost for years;

  Drag the waters for a life-line

  Search for a wild flower bed

  Seek the sea-washed sand for feeling

  And find tomorrow every day;

  Dig the trenches for protection

  Find the cover of their earthen warmth

  Call the Gods to make a heaven-spread

  Discrete screen for love;

  Deadwood in a simple life-form

  Singled out by a hand-caress

  Found the soulmate of a lifetime,

  Embraced its finding hands,

  And kissed all the pain goodbye.

  AT LAST

  Snow freckles

  Flirting in a merry dance

  A thousand-fold

  Mesmerise the wind

  As they fall in playful flight

  Flitting here and there

  Until they touch

  Where they belong;

  Alone each flake is nothing

  In a pale-consuming world

  Together once they touch

  They are fulfilled...

  ...they are enough.

  THE STRAND

  A sea of sand stretches

  From the Galley Head

  Washed day by day

  Into a plaster-board;

  Glistening here and there

  It throws a wall

  Of no avail

  Against the throb of rising tide;

  At night a shaft of light

  Spans countryside

  And flickers in phase

  From a quartz-mix

  Sending a tidal message

  A despatch of cosmic influence;

  It stretches for a mile or more,

  A long strand edged by a frame

  Of mile-long reed-held dunes

  And children paddle

  In its salt-drenched table

  Picking fancy stones to treasure;

  I watch and know

  That long strand will endure

  But I will not.

  WAITING FOR CLIONA

  A fin cleaves through the waves

  Cutting a shimmering path

  In nature’s endless dream,

  A dorsal, maybe a shark

  Intent on prey of fish or flesh

  The vicious circle of the sea or mystery?

  Is it real or a mirage

  Or is it Cliona come to visit

  Her rock-bed in moist-weld draped

  Seeking, perhaps, a scaled embrace?

  I wait and watch

  Bent on a fatal prospect

  She takes young men they say

  But none she took came back to tell;

  Who will she take

  This time and when

  Noone perhaps this century

  And still I wait

  Maybe this time she’ll lay

  On her love-rock with an older man

  And, finished, take him, me,

  Into her sea of dreams,...

  ...That’s why I wait!

  IN THE JERVIS CENTRE, DUBLIN

  Pacing wondering

  Thoughts fucked up

  By savage words

  And fear of fear,

  The thought, and

  Fear came readily

  Sleeping

  Shopping

  Going to the brink

  Of an embrace,

  He waited,

  Wanted, yearned for

  What he thought was good

  And then he pissed

  And gave it all away,...

  ...There’s no more left.

  IN MEMORY OF ALL STILL-BORN AND

  MISCARRIED CHILDREN

  She faced

  A grumpy morning

  Sick but hoping

  For the life in her;

  The pain would not relent,

  Her hope escaped,

  Her embryo

  A thumb-nail piece of life

  In early-form

  Left her helpless

  To avoid existence,

  She miscarried

  And her child-dream died.

  UNDER THE CRYSTAL BALL

  I moved against her,

  She pressed on me

  And we danced;

  I’m inside you now, I said

  and she replied

  And I’m around you

  Wrapped,

  Enveloping you in me,

  Your being inside,

  And we could not be more

  Together;

  Dancing, not dancing,

  Barely moving

  And joined

  Deep in our skin caress,

  A flowing sense,

  We dreamed;

  Dancing, not dancing,

  We came

  Together once,

  Again,

  And we could not be more

  Together,

  Forever....

  ....under the Crystal Ball.

  WHERE HAVE ALL THE FLOWERS GONE

  Take me to the bushes

  To the crinkly warmth

  Of heather on my bum

  Back to forgotten days

  For some but not for me

  When you and I made love

  As we walked the streets

  In wistful dream;

  I know the bridge is gone

  Replaced by a tarmac-runway

  And horse-power drives

  A trench mile-wide

  Through nooks of memory;

  The dance-hall light is quenched

  Where once we clung

  Enraptured in orgasmic smile,

  We hugged, caressed

  And loved excluding everyone;

  The years have flown

  Past you and I

  And taken toll of

  Memory and muscle,

  Quenched the one

  And sapped the other;

  Lapsed time has warned

  There’s no more time

  So take me to the bushes

  And press me firm

  To crinkly warmth of heather

  Back to forgotten days

  When young love dreamed

  And saw no consequence

  Of lapsing time

  And we made love;

  Will you and I

&nb
sp; Again make love

  As we walk the streets

  Or will we ever meet at all.

  THERE’S A PLACE.......

  Roses are red

  And violets are blue

  the blue and red together

  make up green

  the colour of the world

  and the green is the bluebell-bed

  of trees

  and of buttercups and primroses

  and white-winged yellow-centred daisies

  and garlic

  and noone walks the fields

  and the sun shines through the woods

  in tunnels

  to light a beam-base space for lovers

  where they will find a darkness-comfort

  and a glow

  and they will rest together

  on a carpet of wild flowers

  and they will walk unseen together

  on a seamless comfort-turf

  leaving footprints there forever

  in the flowers and the ground

  then they will be forever

  enough.

  CREATION

  Slate upon slate,

  Glued with a rough-hand,

  Erupted in the structure

  Of a lamp,

  Rose in the dark

  From a barren-base;

  Touch the earth core,

  The mason whispered

  To himself as his chisel cleared

  And the hammer,

  Directed by his mind-bent,

  Tapped a tune, a-drawing

  Symmetry with stone;

  It began in darkness,

  Piece by piece in a spiral pace,

  And from the earth

  An embryo-work unfolded

  And the wonder was a miracle

  Flowing from the mason’s hands;

  Touch the core,

  The slate-man shouted to the world

  As the thing took shape

  And he wondered at its beauty

  And its source

  But the finished work

  Would herald its conception....

  ....the world

  is a wonder everyday.

  HEDGE FUNDS

  I woke up one fine Summer morning

  My resources were stripped to the bone

  And intent on avoiding a panic

  I decided to call the bank on the phone;

  The girl put me through to the Manager

  And I asked for a small overdraft

  He sneered and he snorted and sniggered

  And said that he was not that daft;

  Distraught, I looked 'round my little hovel

  My grey cells were racing like hell

  I ransacked the place with a vengeance

  But found that I had nothing to sell;

  Despondent, I tidied the place up

  Realising that no money no fun

  When glancing at a cluttered corner

  I noticed my Grandson's toy gun;

  Ah Ha, I shouted out with some glee

  As a plan began to form in my head

  The bank's floor will be awash with pee

  When they think that my gun's full of lead;

  The morning broke clear and serene

  As I wound myself up into action

  And I made my way to the bank's door

  Abrim with a dosh-driven passion;

  With a note in my hand and my gun tucked away

  I slid toward the counter as they started their day

  Showing the gun and the note with a confident dash

  I demanded a shit-load of cash;

  Well, the dough was forthcoming in double-quick time

  And I grabbed it and trousered it quickly

  Then skipping lighthearted endowed as I then was

  I slipped from the bank's clutches safely;

  Then I strolled down the street

  With a lift in my step

  And I gloated on the part I had played,

  Gleaned without any graft

  I now had my overdraft

  And no interest would have to be paid,...

  ....The banking class

  Can kiss my arse

  I've got my overdraft at last!

  HOSTAGE

  I am a bush in a clump of bushes

  Rustling in the breeze alone;

  I am a tree reaching to the clouds

  Mature, full grown;

  I am the grass around tree and bush,

  A soft-bed for the world,

  A lake of mirrored sheen,

  A resorvoir of tears,

  A day of expectation

  In a sea of stormy time.

  I am a dolphin of the deep

  Searching shallows for response,

  The tree and bush, the grass,

  The lake of tears unseen,

  Unheard in time and space,

  A pawn;

  I am the world and nothing,

  A shadow hovering, waiting

  On the careless hand of fate

  And her reply.

  LOVE ON A MOONBEAM

  A soft breeze whispered

  Through the window-screen

  The room inside was lit

  By its sweet sound;

  Moonlight flowed

  With its airborne glitter

  And the early air

  Was crisp and clear;

  A soft breath whispered

  In her silken ear,

  Her face was blushed

  With its fragrance;

  Smile on smile

  Followed the breeze

  And the moonlight

  Embalmed her soul;

  Sometimes

  When the curtains stirred

  Her room was cooled

  And nothing moved;

  Sometimes when the night

  Had closed around her

  And the coolness grasped

  Her heart and soul

  He whispered sweetness

  On the breeze to her

  And she was warm

  And well;

  Sometimes

  When he touched her skin,

  Brushed his fingers on her cheek,

  She heard his silent whispers;

  Sometimes

  When he called

  She felt his arms enwrap her

  In a life embrace;

  Always

  In their nearness

  When they touched

  Or not

  That whispered love

  Was there for them;

  Always

  Reaching

  Always

  They are one.

  POEM TO ME...

  I'm here but not my own space,

  The place where I am home,

  And the settled form of me

  Is waiting for a foe to come,

  To ambush that earthly sod

  Where I am firmly rooted

  In the soil from where I came,

  From where I was created;

  Savage me

  If you will

  But the best of you

  Will not

  Defeat

  The best of me;

  Take your best shot

  And be gone,...

  I will weather that

  And survive;

  The World

  Is a strange place

  So, look at my World

  To see what’s really me

  Before you take

  Your shot!

  NIGHTS PROMISE

  A thumb-nail moon

  Lit the grass,

  The blooms reflected

  A tomorrow life;

  Pansies folded

  In their blossom-sleep

  And the lavender

  Worked its wonders;

  I was lost in your place,

  In the colour-scape of you,

  My life-blood speeding

  Past my years;

  I scanned the spectrum of your ‘garden’

  And its
landscape merged in my soul;

  I took the image of your shape and hew

  And I slept and dreamed..........

  OLD FRIENDS

  I remember

  The horse-drawn plough,

  I am older now;

  The best has come and gone

  But image lives

  Where furrows with the years

  Have grown

  And the horse is gone;

  I saw the clotted bands

  Turned gently

  Behind the iron cleaver

  Line by line

  By the horse, drawing,

  Guiding hoof by hoof,

  A swirl of seagull

  On his tail;

  I heard the cacaphony,

  Sometimes in tune,

  Some not,

  In worm pursuit,

  A symmetry of wings

  Forming a halo-crest

  Headland to end and back;

  Today, we reminisced,

  My friend and I,

  Both old sinse then,

  Talked of grasshoppers

  And neighbours,

  Of things

  no longer known,

  And neither knew

  If our memory-treasures

  Would again be found

  But we remembered.

  ELEVATION OF THE HEART

  (The Destiny of an Irish Immigrant to America)

  Abroad in the swamp-land,

  A sinking ground of people,

  the simple-man embraced

  a wonder of the world

  of wondrous promise

  and he kept the Faith;

  Prospering in that vein,

  He waited, fought his way

  And set the path for his avail

  With a hope that bought

  No thought of failure;

  He had the promise

  Of a world, the World

  That brooked no vacuum

  With its gold in place

  For him to take,...

  ....it was promised

  and his destiny to take

  but it went wrong

  and the devils took the reins

  of his brave venture

  when his people died,

  his World and future dead,

  when the shit-planes hit the towers;

  Dead and ashes,

  Dead and buried

  Mattered not a lot

  When the world

  Was burned

  Into a cinder-space;

  The next step was

  A spectre-plot

  Where voyeurs might come

  To view a corpse or smell of it,

  The end and death of life,

  the killing, life expired,

  of many many loves

  who’d never been before

  And killing never stopped,

  The World refused to see

  That people,

  Children, babies, old as well,