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  Mar 3 Emma
Patrick Kavanagh
O stony grey soil of Monaghan

The laugh from my love you thieved;

You took the *** child of my passion

And gave me your clod-conceived.



You clogged the feet of my boyhood

And I believed that my stumble

Had the poise and stride of Apollo

And his voice my thick tongued mumble.



You told me the plough was immortal!

O green-life conquering plough!

The mandril stained, your coulter blunted

In the smooth lea-field of my brow.



You sang on steaming dunghills

A song of cowards' brood,

You perfumed my clothes with weasel itch,

You fed me on swinish food



You flung a ditch on my vision

Of beauty, love and truth.

O stony grey soil of Monaghan

You burgled my bank of youth!



Lost the long hours of pleasure

All the women that love young men.

O can I stilll stroke the monster's back

Or write with unpoisoned pen.



His name in these lonely verses

Or mention the dark fields where

The first *** flight of my lyric

Got caught in a peasant's prayer.



Mullahinsa, Drummeril, Black Shanco-

Wherever I turn I see

In the stony grey soil of Monaghan

Dead loves that were born for me.
  Jan 8 Emma
Maya Angelou
They have spent their
content of simpering,
holding their lips this
and that way, winding
the lines between
their brows. Old folks
allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
tamborines.
The hollers
rise up and spill
over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
the best and the worst
of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
the corners of their mouths,
their heads wobble
on brittle necks, but
their laps
are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
of dear painless death, and generously
forgive life for happening
to them.
Emma Aug 2018
I am hearing rain for the first time
Like soft hurried footsteps,
The sounds of mice scuttering,
The creaking of an old house.

I am crying again in the darkness
Caressing my true self,
Feeling her ****** fur
As she flinches from my careful fingers

Her eyes are endless black pools
Her thin legs are injured
Curled up, she whimpers
And cowers in pain

I get too close and she scurries away
Into a shadow,
Leaving me alone with the rain
Emma Aug 2018
A shadow like me
Its leaves are blacker than black
Against the grey sky

Post-apocolypse
A cloud of billowing ash
In the aftermath

Of Vesuvius
Rain falls on cold embers
In this film noir

As my hair turns black
And clumps, black as rotten stumps
Black as mottled roots
Clung to a pale corpse

Droplets play in golden light
Then a lightning strike
The gravel sound
Angels passing on the ground

Wandering lost as moths
From light to light
My eyelids hang heavy
Ready to close me out

Phoenix in the night
Burning
Burning her broken heart
Emma Jul 2018
The land breathes so shallowly
It seems to snooze beneath a cloudless sky
Content and inhuman

Peaceful as a sleeping infant
Resting in blankets of cool air

As somewhere far off, a star explodes
With flaring light we'll never know

One push and time falls
Like soft and endless dominoes
Emma Jul 2018
[ I ]
The window framed the quiet scene
My still mind had painted there
Pastel shades of grey and white
That sailed across an ocean sky
To travel right and disappear

I felt her personality
In choice of subject, her use of colours
So vibrant and true
Though I knew

That all great art
Is channeled, not thought
A piece taken from the heart
To be planted anew

[ II ]
At night the lights were dotted lines
Along the shore,
Glittering
Orange and incandescent

As the crescent moon sent her light reflected
To shimmer fragmented and grey
On endless waves
I ran along

The windy wall
Drunk on love and beer
Singing "Hallelujah" with hair trailing
Feeling perfect as a rose in the rain
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