My new laptop lives –
it whispers, groans and purrs and
winks its crimson eye.
Laptop Haiku from MINUS ONE
Tag: poetry
MINUS ONE: Countdown Sale on Kindle from 3/3 to 10/3
COLD TURKEY
I wear your absence
Like a heavy coat
How pale the day
I never thought
That it would be so hard
To root you out
But I will not regret
The desolation
Of these desert days
The shock of separation
From where my spirit
Lay so easy
Life’s a bugger
But I will grab
It by the ears
And shake it till it screams
Ecstatic.
MINUS ONE on countdown sale from March 3rd to 10th, beginning at 99c.
Here are the first three poems. The book is available on amazon in paperback and kindle formats.
MINUS ONE
My magic circle broken
Minus one
The first one
To close his eyes
At first I hardly noticed
You were gone, but now
Your absence grips my throat
Chokes my breath
How much of you is me?
I have your hands
Your hazel eyes
Your quick dismissive shrug
I have your taste
In books and booze
I hear my voice
Confirm your old convictions
How much of you is me
Stretching to close the circle?
THE RED PETTICOAT
I remember the rustle
Of the red, exotic petticoat
The pick of a parcel
From America
Delight crackled in her hair
Exploded in a sudden flush
On her alabaster skin
The lighthouse sweep and beam
Of her glad eyes
Lit us all, haloed the room
Where we stood in a row
To admire
Long left that room, that house
The woman has gathered her years
Carefully, tucked them primly away
Scented and folded neatly
Facing the rest
With a lifted chin
A grin and a new hat
The glow of the red petticoat
About her still.
JEREMIAH
Grey church humped in dusk
We huddle, linked
Wispy rain-curled fringes
Cold fingers
Avoid the avid glances
Of the neighbours
Here is the hearse
The priest in white, hand aloft
Accustomed to the rites
Calls him Gerard – but
His name was Jeremiah
Strange cousins
Twice and thrice removed
Clamour to shake hands
And kiss
Anticipating whiskey
He’d have hated this.
A Haiku from “Minus One”
Black against the gold
scribbles dark on light, tracings
on a Winter sky.
Haiku for a Red Bed
Whose was this red bed?
Abandoned to the weather
swallowed by a tree.
“Cycles” from MINUS ONE
I called you Peter
And you rocked the earth
My church is full of stones
I called you fire
And you consumed me
My mouth is choked with ashes
I called you truth
And handed you a sword
How often I am pierced
And pierced again
Old scars produce new blood
The letting leaves me
Desolate and grieving
The cycles of my life
Revolving endlessly.
A Spring Haiku from MINUS ONE
Daffodils today
chuir siad gliondar ar mo chroí,*
glowing, golden bright.
*they brought joy to my heart
NEW MILK from “Minus One”
I will wear white silk
In your house
And drink white wine
From a crystal glass
Remote, cool, still
My will to quench
The fierce, white heat
In the night
And in the morning
Rise like a white rose
To drink new milk
From a blue cup.
Soft Word
Sudden shocks of grief
Or joy unwind us
Push us into air so pure, so pure
We speak real words
Love other eyes
Take other hands
Wound in again
We wake up old too late, too late
Our spirits withered
Weathered, dead
Lips collapsed and clamped
The soft word seldom said.
“Donnacha” from MINUS ONE
Four Aprils old
His heart knows
Only joy
Proud and brave
He stands up straight
In uniform
My girl intent
Upon his lunchbox
Putting in
Taking out
Balancing . . .
Her eyelids not quite dry
I look at her
She looks at him
He waves at me
We spin in a ring of love
And recognise the day
