Thursday, May 28, 2015

Magnolia White

Magnolia petals
beneath a March sky,
clouds ribboned with sunlight.

I sit on the balcony
five floors high
above foreign trees
bursting with spring.

Rooftops, slate grey
undulate the city scape.
Distant hills breathe, still winter brown
along the Moselle river.
Too early for boat trips
to lazy days in Saarburg.

Surrounded by apartments,
so many lives
in drab concrete walls
but only the hum of traffic.
No birdsong here
only the stutter of dead leaves
pass me by.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Banbridge Exodus

with allergies and chills,
my head swollen with Banbridge hedgerows.
A hoarse breeze chases through the open door,
cases and coats in a pile
exodus from Loft House to Oak.

I stroll to the farmhouse
with Jack and James,
a gentle slope underfoot.
The upward curve of a gnarled apple trunk
stands centre stage, 
devoid of fruit.
Leaning over the wooden fence
fallen pippins circle the yard,
rosy ripe.
A vegetable patch lies dormant
like a burial mound,
remnants of potato plants
smothered in weeds,
and I think of young hands
that once worked the soil,
raised a family
for emigrant lands.

The cock crows in the distance.
I look to five light hill
and sigh,

it is our last day already.

Sparkle of Wings

A flight of gulls
glide the rooftops
coasting towards the sea.
The train chugs deeper
into the city,
sparkles of ocean
ripple behind me,
purple mountains
fade in the distance.

Dark tunnels of Summer’s end
emerge to elderberry Autumn.
Auburn fields fly by
and I am surrounded by strangers,
knees touching knees,
my feet poised tippy-toes
ready to take flight
like the wings of birds.
I want to feel cool water
splash between my toes,
to return to the sea,
to the shine of Greystones,

away from the drab grey concrete
of the city.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Lakeside Dreams (published by Riposte 2013) and later by Street line Critics, Limerick - written on the street (fun exercise)

Lakeside Dreams

Dusk by the lakeside,
waters gently lap the shore.
The breeze weaves through tall reeds
to dance amid soft mountain shadows.  

A cold moon rises
behind a copse of Oak,
rolling smoky skies.

In the hush of midnight
bare branches reach to the stars,
gathering the falling darkness
into a night of dreams.

Lakeside dreams written on the street in Limerick

haiga (dappled green)

Published in A New Ulster September 2013

cool woodlands
of summer --
dappled green

haiku and haiga (summer 2013)

embroidered hedgerows --
the yellow scent
of summer

published in A Hundred Gourds June 2012

woodland brome
bend with dew --
crescent moon

Haiga made of embroidered hedgerows below

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The Attic Chest

Winter winds the darkness
into the attic chest,
her cold bosom wrinkles
like a wind-blown river.
Wet snow sparkles
from tiny crevices,
trickles gently
like a mountain stream.

Autumn leaves coil
like a dancers ringlets
they twist and spin
like angel feathers,

I grasp the last one on the wind.