Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cormac Mar 22
It was the first day.
The wash on round stones,
To my left, the sea was busy,
Washing softer, rounder ones.

The Sun moved its support,
To the actions to the South,
None prepared, none compared,
And so words laid idle in mouth.

Her descent to the shoreline,
Closing in from the right,
And I, standing awkward,
She, invaded my eyes.

So gentle the motions,
As softly the greeting,
So dissolved my notions,
Of mastering this meeting
Cormac Mar 22
Of the oxygene in your veins
Of the always invited breath of air
Of the sunlight spark in your eyes
Of the wind that moves your hair

To be close as the cloth
To be loyal as your shadow
To be the reflecting mirror
To be your movements follow
Cormac Mar 2018
I'm sorry
I thought I was stronger
Should have waited longer
Couldn't have been wronger.
Cormac Mar 2018
Death becomes himself

He climbs, ivy finger'd
On the shadowy rise
Death drives His chariot
Drawn by stallions on fire

Oftimes He approaches
Silent, on velvety hooves
Toying with his prey
As the cat teases wool

Perhaps His indulgence
The warnings first sound
Foreseeing the inevitable
The fall to the ground

But I

Not yet
Mr. Death
Not yet

I will fight your marching
At every advance
And battle you out
To the last stance

That you will know as you claim
The remains of my earthen hide
That I have fully worn it out
Well before you arrived
Cormac Mar 2018

Icy fingers commanding a Mistral touch
Stretched over alpine peaks and such
Was their cold descent between land and sea
A shiver came forth and she enveloped me

Hesitation's fruit - doubt to my right, uncertainty left
The soul frightened, risking happiness bereft
Waiting the moment, feeling drunk without drink
Should disappointment reign, or what would she think?

But there, the image woke to the real
She smiled past me, her beauty revealed
Doubt chose retreat, hesitation took flight
Blinded by the former, now recovering sight

Myopic observations confuse the inner eye
Programmed conclusions limit the mind
The hidden secret, well known to Youth
It's the eye of the beholder decides its own truth
Cormac Mar 2018

Stalling for time
Along St James
Anna Liffey looks back,
Noting down names

At Old Dublin's walls
The wind sighs in regret
Calling to her softly
Lest Anna forget

Her tears take in salt
With each challenged wave
As she melts in the sea
Domain of the brave

She finds final peace
Seeking her rest
In the arms of Britannia
Cormac Mar 2018

I had forgotten
How the Artic wind could
Sear its path up the Dublin Quays and flood
Into the streets
Tearing the very surface off
Everything it touches

The cobbles seem to shiver and ask to be brought
The paving slabs have already resigned
To their destiny

Feet shuffle past
Ignoring the multitude of stoney beggars

It's October
Dublin has turned off
The welcome sign.
Next page