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Cormac Apr 2022
I almost wrote her a poem
Then I laid my pen away
Beware! The World may judge
Wise Reason will say

What care I for the comment of
Conventional fools and lauded clowns
Instinct or impulse, what's their differ?
Am I the jester, now out of bounds?

I almost wrote her a poem
I hid my thoughts instead
For fear of perhaps exposing
Long broken works of this head

What cares my heart for reasons
Nor experience and age
I have a lifetime ago forgotten
How to follow life's page

I almost wrote her a poem
Yet I bound these hands
And ******* my thoughts
Lest she understand.

And yet I believe she may.
One of these days.
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 Jun 2019
I have been  titled sensitive
But I am not weak
I feel the tortures
Yet choose not to speak

I have the illness
I am diseased
My heart's defect
It easily bleeds

So, use your words well
Tear open my breast
Wrench out my heart
Please, do your best

For I shall go forth
Being healed completely
Immune to pain
Your cardiac amputee
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.
Cormac Oct 2019
And just as the waves
Washed over the sand
The wind combed the corn
As she took my hand

Narrowing pupils against
A search of my eyes
For fear she might discover
My soul's sunrise

And yet. And yet.
The want for to say,
The need for to share
The fear she'll away.
Cormac Jun 2019
There will come a day
That I look into your eyes
When my lips will say
To your surprise

The words you fear
'Now, I love you'
But don't worry my dear
They won't be true

For all this time
For all this space
The cited status
Was always the case
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
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 May 2022
All of this time, I was discovering you
For such my arrogance assured
All of this time, it was you guiding me
In my self made mist, myself obscured.

Took my hand, my arm, my stride
Your eyes gazing into my soul
Softly, I spoke your name
Yet immediately lost control
Cormac Mar 2018
Fête des Mères

The first heard heartbeat,
Not of my own
My hidden time-harbour
Nine moons grown

We both bellowed on my arrival
At this wonder of nature
You announced your defiance
I proclaimed my future

From the blooded-knee bandage
Woven from a kiss and a word
To the wiser counsel
Most often unheard

You have watched me climb
Then fall from the bough
Then rise again
You showed me how

With each day's distraction
Beyond the struggle and strife
I'm still opening your present
This gift of life.
Cormac Apr 2022
With the Sun I arose,
Away from My Love,
To greet the day,
Turning a glance once more,
Determined feet frozen,
Morning eyes strained,

I caught the curves of My Love,
Undulating as the hills,
The valleys,
Of a land that beckoned,
The weary ragged sailor,
Filling his sea-limbs with hope,
Of a destiny arrived.

Oh, dream not salty vagabond!
For this apparition be real,
Hasten yourself to see,
For the beauty of such unknown,
That was always there,
Before your discovery,
Before your awake.
Not a mermin's foil,
But a creation of God.

The unassuming beauty,
The presence itself,
What fear you Sailor?
Is this not your isle?
Tramping the seas,
You called out in your sleep,
As the currents and winds,
Swept you at will,
Now you have discovered paradise,
Will you say it to the world?

She sleeps on, My Love,
She dreams of a man,
Worthy and deserv'ed,
To travel her lands,
Over hill and down valley,
Hand in hand.
Cormac Mar 2019
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 May 2022
The scent of her skin
Intoxicating as *****
Yet more rose than poppy
More thorn than seed

But what care I?
Knowing the touch of that body
The redemption petal
My cheek caress

These stumbling words
An impotent expression
Of the thoughts hesitating
Fueled by heartbeat

Oh, let me touch those lips
With mine
Let me wash away your woes
With mine

Take my hand
My love
Take my heart
My love

I give them to you
That this morning may
Unite us two
While we gaze as idiots

As this dawn sun reminds
We are life worn children
Not wise
Yet the child sees truth

It's in your eyes.
Cormac Feb 2020
There was a time, I would not have imagined.
The silky touch of a human, tender and smooth.
Yet, a hand driven by a mind, fierce and determined.
The terrible beauty, not only born, but pressed against my skin.
To what this honour? And how this dream?
Awaken me not, for I have no desire to escape.

Then she smiles.
Light from distant galaxies momentarily escapes through her eyes,
Trying vainly to catch it and contain in mine,
Straining from the effort my squint becomes a frown.

She laughs.
My once brazen spirit, disarmed and beaten, surrenders at her feet.
No longer believing his own well-rehearsed verses, this blushing schoolboy steers his gaze away.
And yet. And yet.

In a distant place, a lion awakes, rises and surveys.
The sun is already scorching the savanna.
Another day of hunting the prey. Another spin on Darwin's cycle.
I am being devoured.
Cormac Mar 2019
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 Jun 2019
Il viendra un jour
Que je me retenais plus
Que je regardais l'heure
Que je deviendra fou

Que échappera de ma bouche
Des mots
Trop tôt
Et inattendu

'Maintenant, je t'aime' je dirais
Mais t'inquiete
Ma chérie
C'est surement menti

Mais non
Dans le sens
Que tu peux
Peut-être y penser

Parce que, mon cœur
Ce que tu sais pas..
Depuis la premier moment
C’était déjà le cas.

— The End —