Sunday, 28 December 2014

Excerpt from the Boy Who kissed Lamposts



Martin's spoon traced the figures of ancient China etched in the landscape of the blue willow plate of breakfast cereal.   A thought scurried across his mind. ‘One day I will go there’.

He paused for a moment, to catch the morning sunlight filtering through the laced curtain and turned to his aunt standing by the stove.

' Auntie , please, please  may I leave the table?' 

An approving wink set him free.    


Saturday, 1 November 2014

And I Awake




















The burn would run all night and morning
Gurgling seductively outside my bedroom window
Golden brown and bubbling over the peat-moss moor
Sounds of scratching fowls and swishing cows
Cud-chewing to the milking parlour


Saturday, 25 October 2014

Narrative - excerpt from 'The boy at the Window'




We sat on Sundays,  high up by  the roots of the knobbled beech tree, careful not to get our Sunday best worse.   The castle hung in the distance, anchored by pristine lawns that glistened in the early morning  sun. That held the castle a distant nirvana.  Untouchable,unreachable.  Shuttered blinds that guarded the Major’s privacy.

We were more interested in what went on below.  The Moyola , it's honey browned waters burbling blindly over the weir, fattened by the rains of late Autumn.   Gorged on leaves from falling foliage, the swirl and foam all working together at the edge of the weir.
It's razor sharp edge awaiting.   We watched with all the uneasiness of Sunday,s service children mumbling  prayers and humming hymns.  Restless on uncomfortable bums.

Friday, 26 September 2014

Postscript by Seamus Heaney

And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other

Saturday, 13 September 2014

No Second Troy by W. B. Yeats

WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great,

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Harvest Home


We laid our back against the stack
Wiped sweat and hayseeds from our brow
Caps cocked to shield the sun
Thirst slain in the billy-can

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Poems from China 2 by Haizi

(c) www.inkcn.com



Afterlife – wanting to be a tree
 
If there's an afterlife
Make me a tree

Forever standing irresolute
No more sad disposition

Poems from China by Haizi



Summer Sun

Summer
If this street has no shoemaker

I, barefoot
Stand naked in the Sun, watching

I recall the day a child was born
It was meant to be




Wednesday, 11 June 2014

Tuesday, 10 June 2014

Sunday, 11 May 2014

Now that I am gone














I
You left your shoes
In the porch, outside the door
You left the upright Hoover
In the middle of the floor
The gate is open
I know you’re in
The car is in the driveway, waiting
I can’t see the cat or hear the dogs
Our house is so quiet now

Mi primera poema espaňola














Aquí el sol hace escondidos con la lluvia
Un momento sol
Un momento tormenta

Hay un viento que lleva puesta etiqueta
<hoy-es-buen-día-per-ser-vivo>

Y hay la primavera como un adolescente
Lúgubre, inseguro
Buscando sus límites
Para florecer
Para sembrar
Para dejar su rastro


© Bellaco 2014 'dedicado a OC'

Tuesday, 6 May 2014

The Rock Heads

The Rock Heads & Mussenden Temple in the distance


The farm to which this poem relates is a mile to the West of the Mussenden Temple (main blog picture above) we called it  the Rock Heads.





They said you could see Scotland
On a clear day from the Rock Heads
I  saw a patchwork of fields
Where men and machines toiled  till dusk
And uncles told tales of the one that got away

Saturday, 22 February 2014

Postscript by Seamus Heaney

And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other