"duffy" poems
If I was dead,
And my bones adrift
Like dropped oars
In the deep, turning earth;
Or drowned,
And my skull
A listening shell
On the dark ocean bed;
If I was dead,
And my heart
Soft mulch
For a red, red rose;
Or burned,
And my body
A fistful of grit, thrown
In the face of the wind;
If I was dead,
And my eyes,
Blind at the roots of flowers
Wept into nothing,
I swear your love
Would raise me
Out of my grave,
In my flesh and blood,
Like Lazarus;
Hungry for this,
And this, and this,
Your living kiss.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 7:00 AM UTC
PARNELL'S FUNERAL
UNDER the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd.
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown
About the sky; where that is clear of cloud
Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;
What shudders run through all that animal blood?
What is this sacrifice? Can someone there
Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?
Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,
A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang
A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow;
A woman, and an arrow on a string;
A pierced boy, image of a star laid low.
That woman, the Great Mother imaging,
Cut out his heart. Some master of design
Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin.
An age is the reversal of an age:
When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone,
We lived like men that watch a painted stage.
What matter for the scene, the scene once gone:
It had not touched our lives. But popular rage,
Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down.
None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part
Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart.
Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
I thirst for accusation. All that was sung.
All that was said in Ireland is a lie
Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng,
Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong
To this bare soul, let all men judge that can
Whether it be an animal or a man.
The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay.
Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.
Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died.
Had even O'Duffy -- but I name no more --
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
7.7k
Here are the names of my lovers,
The women I sleep with, whom
I use, like they use me.
Spent, they discard me, for when their pleasure needs
Satiated, they climb aboard another man.
What they do not know,
Is that in my mind, in my ears,
everywhere,
I did not let them, or you go,
We are still romping,
For I
Take them as needed.
I need them all,
For my pleasure needs, like my unshaped heart,
Addictive, endless.
If your is name is here, I do not
Apologize.
Pink
Adele
Lilly Allen
Anna Nalick
Bess Rogers
Beyonce
Brandi Carlisle
Cat Power
Colbie Callait
Duffy
Eva Cassidy
Evanescence
Alison Sudol
Fiona Apple
Florence Welch
Grace Potter
Ingrid Michaelson
You
Joni Mitchell
K.D. Lang
Kate Nash
Kate Voegele
Leona Lewis
Lizz Wright
Madeline Peyroux
Marie Digby
Mary Wells
Norah Jones
Regina Spektor
Sara Bareilles
You
Sara Haze
Taylor Swift and Tracy Chapman
Tristan Prettyman
Vanessa Carlton
So many others, used so long ago, I can't remember the faces,
Which can't be googled.
Use them hard, use them often, more than daily.
Bluntly, I tell you
Your name is on my list,
Even if I do not disclose it.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:31 AM UTC
You are my sun, the planets and the asteroids in between,
actually, make that the energy that embraces the sun,
the elements and trace elements that make up each planet...
(Oh, my stars!)
You are each perfect petal that unfurls ever so slowly in the morning light,
actually, make that the light that kisses each dew drop which
awakes each petal with that sweet kiss...
(Oh, blush, my buzzing bee!)
You are that raindrop that refreshes my parched soul that's stranded in a desert,
actually, make that the mirage that proves to be an oasis
as my eyes widen in wonderment with the reality of You.
(Oh, shucks, my sweet breath!)
You are my golden compass whenever I get lost in the wilderness,
actually, I wouldn't mind getting lost, if it means
that I get lost in your soulful, beautiful eyes Forever
(Oh, you cheeseball, you!!)
You are the chocolate ganache frosting on that chocolate cake,
actually, you are the powdered sugar on my honey-dipped doughnut
that brushes my lips, the perfect complement for hot, hot coffee
(Oh, honey bun!!)
You are the--
Sweetcakes??
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara, I'm just
Ahem!!!!
You are the freshly ground pepper that dusts softly on my carbonara,
actually it would be bland and incomplete without you and---
Hey, babe!
huh?!
*I'm on dense mode right now, what are you really trying to say?
Come on, spill it, I NEVER hear it from you...*
Ummm, ummm...I...I...
I mean, I--
Out with it, come on!! You can do it---"I...."
Hoo! Ok, I...
I can do this---
I...
(Note to self: This is IT!!!!!)
I--
Yesss...?!!
I
am
the empty, wanting glass and you are the refreshing drink that fills me up,
actually,--
***~BOINKKKKKkkK~ !! I'm walking away now!!
Geez, if you can't say IT without all the Fluffy, duffy, Fluff,
see me walking away for now...I need the Skinny, the skeleton!
Sometimes one just needs to Hear it, you know?!
Oh, and I love you,in case you didn't know...but see me walk!***
Hey, honey bunny, smoochie sweetie pie?
...still walking away~~~~
I...
huff, huff, huff~~
I am walking towards you...
Huff, puff, puff and hufff~! (note to self: Walk on, walk on...)
I said I'm walking towards you...
~bump~!
and
I...
Love
You.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
lily is bored
she is best ignored
she wants to be adored
and so she will by sun
that adorns her skin
she will wax and in
diamond and pearl
crazy colourings
grow
suddenly say
spread
oil on herself..
indicates
her impossible
pretty
(i will grumble
for
i am working..)
shoulder
and roll a stick
of marijuana
and sundry other
stuff
and that far from
enough and now
the sun has
gone..
behind a cloud
getting loud
fire is out..
lily wears a pout
where has the sun
where is her this
and where is that..
what is she reading
memoirs of a foxhunting man
(siegfried sassoon)
and goodbye to all that
by
robert graves
two great poets from the
first world war
she acclaims..
and carol ann duffy
she is flitting like
a happy
cabbage white
tween the three
waiting for
the light
on the one hand
the death of civilization
and carol´ s fun and dark
determination
between courage and courage
i cream her smooth opal covering
and push a cold mohitjo in her grip
she wonders how life changes
she lights up and picks at the ways
that divide and separate us
just let it rip she sighs..
what choice do we have anyhows
**** hit the fan
what to do..
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
Read Shakespeare and Milton and all of the rest
Keats, Coleridge and Wordsworth are some of the best
Read Ted Hughes and Sylvia, Motion, Duffy
They say what I want to say better than me
Read Homer and Ovid, Basho and Su Shi
Chaucer and Boccaccio they've stood the test
Read Donne, Spenser, Marlowe, Jonson and Raleigh
Read Shakespeare and Milton and all of the rest
Read Swift, Pope, Blake, Tennyson, and Rossetti
The two Barrett Brownings are of interest
For feelings romantic as true as can be
Keats, Coleridge and Wordsworth are some of the best
Read Larkin and Betjeman if you're depressed
Read Wendy Cope to enjoy all of life's zest
Yes please don't think I despise modernity
Read Ted Hughes and Sylvia, Motion, Duffy
And how about all those I haven't addressed
Yeats, Auden, Joyce, Longfellow, Poe and Shelley
And all of the others I'm bound to have missed
They say what I want to say better than me
But what of the poet, with poets obessed?
In prose I am prolix, in speech stuttery:
So where will you find my emotions expressed?
On MySpace, on Twitter, read my poetry
It says what I want to say
Oct 7, 2009
Oct 7, 2009 at 11:12 AM UTC
“You are your own god – and are surprised when
you find that the wolf pack is hunting you across
the desolate ice fields of winter.”
― Dag Hammarskjöld, Markings
Crazy old men bellowing at each other
Crazy old women shrieking at us all:
The Spiritus Mundi is hard at play
Among the wreckage of civilization
The stripping of the altars 1 is complete
Holy innocence is a toilet joke
And the literature of millennia
Now serves as cleaning rags for The Machine
An executioner, while waiting for you
Pauses to admire his latest tattoo
1 cf. Eamon Duffy
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 4:14 PM UTC
I
Under the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd.
A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown
About the sky; where that is clear of cloud
Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down;
What shudders run through all that animal blood?
What is this sacrifice? Can someone there
Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star?
Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through,
A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang
A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow;
A woman, and an arrow on a string;
A pierced boy, image of a star laid low.
That woman, the Great Mother imaging,
Cut out his heart. Some master of design
Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin.
An age is the reversal of an age:
When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone,
We lived like men that watch a painted stage.
What matter for the scene, the scene once gone:
It had not touched our lives. But popular rage,
Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down.
None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part
Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart.
Come, fix upon me that accusing eye.
I thirst for accusation. All that was sung.
All that was said in Ireland is a lie
Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng,
Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die.
Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong
To this bare soul, let all men judge that can
Whether it be an animal or a man.
II
The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay.
Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart
No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day.
No civil rancour torn the land apart.
Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's
Imagination had been satisfied,
Or lacking that, government in such hands.
O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died.
Had even O'Duffy--but I name no more--
Their school a crowd, his master solitude;
Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there
plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
1.7k
Jeremy Duff woke up as he usually does on a Tuesday morning.
With the alarm clock blaring he lifted his right arm from off his wife's chest.
He stood up, covered his wife's bare torso with the purple, fuzzy, comforter and walked to the bathroom, naked.
He turned on the sink so hot water would begin to pour out.
After completing his usual morning routine of shaving, dressing, smoking, and eating, respectively, Jeremy began his walk to work.
It was, on a typical day, and this was a typical day, a twelve minute walk.
He lit a cigarette the moment his feet hit the sidewalk. It was the first of, on a typical day, thirty-eight.
Jeremy worked on the 27th floor, which he thought of as funny as he pressed the "27" button, as he did on any typical day. His job was to edit spelling on essays before they would be turned in for final inspection. Then, as his boss put it, if the writers were lucky, they would see the essays in the next issue of Story Magazine.
He sat down in his office, lit his third cigarette of the day, and looked at the large stack of papers in front of him. If he was lucky, Jeremy thought, he could get halfway through the stack and take his 10 early, to see his wife. The first one on the stack was entitled "The Young Folks." It had a blue sticky note on it reading "Vignette, Salinger, Jerome David, 1,794 words."
Jeremy read it, purely aesthetically, looking only for spelling mistakes. Finding none, he put a quick check on the blue sticky note. Mr. Duff lit his 5th cigarette and read the story again. It was phenomenal. He read it a third time, while smoking his 6th cigarette. Jeremy finished the first half of the stack and lit his 9th cigarette. He grabbed the story by Salinger and began his walk home. His wife greeted him at the door with kisses. He showed her the story. She read it, read it again and told him it was great. She just didn't understand, Mr. Duff thought.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 8:24 PM UTC
We are the boys who go out and party, and get into trouble, oh yeah we're bad
You see I went to the club to watch a really cool band
For starters it took a while to start and when it did
I was the only one dancing, you see I was the only cool one there
And I went to the Brumbies and I yelled when they dropped the ball
Saying we stink we stink we stink
Then after that we went to an old house in Wanniassa
And I knocked on the door and this lady answered and said
How are you little cool dude, I am the evil white witch of Canberra
Who are you, you fine gentlemen, who are you
I said I am Brian Allan, and I am the head cool boy here in Canberra
The evil white witch said, not for long, I have Mark Marlor and Brendan Schultz
Both captured in my den in the backyard, yes it looks like a chicken coop
And I want you too, because mate, you are a little brat who hangs around witch's houses
I tried to escape, but the witch before my eyes, zapped me in chains in the den
With Mark and Brendan, and this was going to be doom for us
The white witch wanted to feed us, because he wanted us to fatten up
For the big feast, which was in about 2 weeks from now
And these three Canberra kids are the Canberra kids who will bring peace to the city
For the centenary, yes the white witch was sitting in her chair saying I have the cool kids
Mark, Brendan and Brian were saying, we are the boys who go out and party
And get into trouble. Oh yeah we're bad, cause we end up being chained in an evil white witch's backyard den, and we are by all means doomed
The witch came down to the den and said, have you boys gained fat yet
You 3 can no longer be muscle boys, cause you are my prisoners
I have you forever, kiddies
The white witch made sure that Brendan,Mark and Brian were securely chained in so tightly, and then went on a little walk around Canberra trying to find more Canberra crowd kids to catch, and he walked past the Duffy shops and the white witch saw Luke Salvorg who was. Under 12 for Weston Creek and he was riding his bike down tbe road, and yes, like all sports boy, he thought he was never going to be kidnapped, because he was too loud and too fit, but the white witch waved her arms and suddenly Luke found himself in the witch's den chained up, he was scared and Mark Marlor, who knew him, said, we must eat, because we are going to be the food at a dinner party, you see we all are kidnapped by an evil white witch, and don't worry she only wants boys, because boys are tough
You see, we are the boys who go out to party and get into trouble, oh yeah, we're bad, cause we end up being chained in an evil white witch's backyard den, Luke said please mummy rescue me, please, and I want you to do it now
Sent from my iPhone
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 8:47 PM UTC
the raiders show, full time report, 21 march 2015, we ****
as we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a great start but then they faded away
just like they usually do
you see the raiders were woeful, especially in the 2nd half
no i am discusted oh yeah
it was the worst match, back to the old drawing board
johnny’ thanks and what a woeful performance in the end, by the raiders, and it actually is a hard
job picking the raider of the match, only one raider scored in the second half, but here is sue longways
with the raider of the match, horrible effort
sue’ yeah, johnny, it was a horrible effort but the raider of the match goes to brett austin, now brett what went wrong
brett’ well, sue, we were woeful in that second half, and the dragons were just too good
sue’ yeah, were you thinking victory, at half time, maybe too over confident so to speak
brett’ yeah, maybe we were over confident in the first half, but the dragons got 8 points before the break, and
then another 14, well, anyway, terrible match
sue’ anyway here is the raider of the match medallion, congrats and now here is bob from gordon
bob’ and now we draw the final curtain, the raiders **** again
it was a really terrible game, buddy a terrible match for the raiders team
yeah the raider, ya know they do **** it was a woeful game
what happened to the hopeless raiders, ya know the raiders ****
what is wrong with the mighty raiders, they didn’t look so mighty tonight
why couldn’t the raiders win it, i think it’s just that their hopeless
sue’ and now here is johnny brown with his jingle, not our johnny brown, johnny from duffy
johnny’ we are on the rocking horse caused by the raiders losing
you see we rocked all day long
they are sitting on the rocking horse, all day long, my love
i wished our raiders won
you see, the raiders had a bad match, good start, but hopeless finish
really the raiders faded, yeah, what a woeful effort, yeah woeful effort woeful effort yeah mate ****** yeah
sue’ thanks johnny brown, and now back to our johnny brown
johnny’ thanks sue, that was a terrible match and to make matters much worst, we play the roosters next game
and i say, we’ll lose to the roosters next week and here is micheal with his jingle
micheal, go the dragons, we kicked some ****** ***
go dragons, we showed some fucken class
yeah the mighty st george, oh yeah, yeah they were great in the end
go dragons kick some ****** *** go dragons, show some ****** class
go the dragons go the dragons, dragons won true blue, GO DRAGONS
johnny’ ok now everybody it’s beer o’clock and the raiders were given a football lesson, a rootball lesson
and we have the reason to give canberra much credit, except for the first 18 points
CATCH YA NEXT TIME raiders show fans
DRAGONS OVER RAIDERS 22 - 20
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
~
***pitch an putt I never worried about
'cause all my drives were long and stout
now off the tee it doesn't fly so far
and all I can do is hope for par
on my card 3's are 4's and 4's became 5
oh how I long for a 300 yard drive
it's only a game some say unkind
but it grabs at your heart and messes your mind
it's only a game still others proclaim
front nine was fun the back nine shame
so before I tee I ask my Lord
just once put my name atop the leader board
so now it's early to bed so I can dream
of birdies and eagles and a jacket that's green
written by my caddy
Sir Duffy Mulligan
FOUR!***
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
I shall never be the best in anything I do,
because for every poem I write there's always Duffy,
every equation I complete, Einstein always knew.
Every maths question successful had Pythag around before,
for my paintings there was always Monet,
or Da Vinci perhaps.
for every ball I sway against, Murray has already touched.
You see for me,
I will never exceed,
I will just be a possibly,
a hope,
a could have been.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
Happy Duffy Duck
Floats Into Water
When Here Mother
Quack , Quack, and Quack
She Go Home
And Get Pale of Water.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 5:53 PM UTC
A light tea before her reading
so I can focus on her words
seek out their meaning
refrain her rhythms
define her rhymes
listen for her killer lines.
A music too rich to revise.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
I’m a failed poet,
not for the want
of trying, nor was
I afraid to speak
my mind, no, I am
thus classified due
to my readers who
are so ******* dumb
that they never ever
understood metaphors
thought iambic pentameter
was an ego measuring
apparatus and a simile
should be accompanied
with a parentheses, two
dots or an emoji.
I suggest they go and read
Carol Anne Duffy, because
I am just as bad, but not
worse, yet she made laureate!
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
I attended the Poetry Live event at Leeds Town Hall on Wednesday 5th February (this week) and it was a spectacular event.
I witnessed readings from Carol Ann Duffy, Gillian Clarke, Simon Armitage, Jackie Kay, Imtiaz Dharker and John Agard. Each of these poets are a true inspiration for me and their work is absolutely amazing. My favourite reading was from John Agard, who is an incredible individual and great entertainer!
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.
Just lately, just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
Mammy
A breeze furled the window sheers.
The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:
Brigid...........Nellie
I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.
Jun 3, 2023
Jun 3, 2023 at 6:06 PM UTC
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you write
For freedom
From boredom
Or even sympathy
Simply to defeat
Apathy
People who experience traumatic events may sometimes develop apathy syndrome
(indifference and emotional detachment)
As a means to further protect themselves mentally and prevent further distress
This is normally present in survivors of tragedies
And it can be part of post-traumatic stress disorder
Caused by emotions hard press
So are you ready to lay on my couch
And begin to confess
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 2:01 AM UTC
(A lone voice whispers)
For a dash of exquisite fun
Try to have such a mesmerising style of creativity—when stimulating, visual imagery.
So all those within your prose's proximity:
Can enjoy its delicious delivery
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 1:34 AM UTC
I think of the men I've exhaled
Salty and in charge,
They swirled around in my thoughts
Entrancing me with shadowy shimmers
Cosmic vibrations and mystic visions
Enveloped across my soggy sore soul.
I ate my own soul for lunch today.
I am my own and my own angel
Programmed and primed not delicate enough for words
I wish I could entwine my pragmatic, cutlass wisdom
Into the sticky, soggy, sore soul.
Carol Ann Duffy could write for trillions of years
About me, about her, about every one of the millions to be heard
Exhausting is the useless, their one ***** soft and shallow pierces
It's a story we all may very well know
However it's another thing to drop this muted partner
Dump it into the Indian Ocean, let it go
Continue forward, marching on.
I loved myself more every yesterday
Seems my youth is draining with age
"Wasn't I beautiful, fragrant and young?"
Perhaps, but no one said the Queen was built in a day.
Wisdom should entwine my soul, not listless lovers
"I refuse to give up my obsession"
But you mishear, somehow my obsession is ME
ME ME ME
My sticky, soggy, sore soul.
The girl with unkempt hair and a messy soul.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
Walking down these things
things you can't describe
covered in color
something oh so Devine
swing open a door
watch your step as you climb
going to this place
where you thought you could find
everything your looking
for lost everywhere behind
behind a little stone
lost behind a little stone
this dream you thought you could find
standing on the corner
Brewster shows me the way
Tommy is the man
you think i could say
walk the yellow dog
yes Duffy is his name
go and drink a beer
the clouds all have no shame
Duffy is the dog
yes he always knows your name
Tommy is the man
yes he always knows your name
the Eastside water
the place where you reside
You thought you had it all
then they went to escape
then they went to escape
then they went to escape
down the rabbit hole
now where do you hide
then they went to escape
down the rabbit hole
now where do you hide
lost down an alley
a scene now you found
someone got murdered
now how can you help
the black and white is everywhere
there's not a place you can hide
the black and white is everywhere
there's not a place you can hide
look at the mirror
maybe it's you they should find
look at the mirror
maybe it's you they should find
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Chess. A Checkmate of Love.
(A regal female voice whispers to eager faces)
“Try love”
Said the Queen to her Pawns
As she looked out over
Her black and white lawns
“Before the Sun fades
Or goes away
Open up your souls and see where it goes
Just try love once
Even if it fails”
Said the Queen to her Pawns
As she looked out over
Her black and white lawns
"For,
From as far as Babylon of Old
To Istanbul
Standing still in the Cold
All my old pieces have tried love once
Before they were took
By Death's cruel hook
To stand away forever
From my black and white lawns
Lost in the shadows
As the stars fade, when the moon comes out
Praying in straight, black and white lines
For a second chance
At a new dawn
So try love once,
My beloved Pawns
Even if it fails
Take a chance
Before you're removed
From my black and white lawns
Just try love once,
My beloved Pawns
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 9:13 AM UTC