"ormolu" poems
You will know the house,
Caught up in a spell of tales played out for a century or more
Within earshot of whispering catacombs
*** mortuis in lingua mortua’
You can’t miss it –
Architecturally complex, ornate with ormolu,
Elevated, enigmatic, a work of art.
You’ll be enchanted
But take heed, its façade will beguile you.
There is no sweetness of honeysuckle,
No singing of ascending larks to embolden the heart.
The plot is strewn with hen-bane, stinging nettles, snakeroot.
Generations tell of a skinny hag feeding on innocence,
A path scattered with ashes of children
Whisked away with a broom of silver.
Don’t dare to stray beyond its palisade of porous bones.
Don’t bide your time admiring its guilded thistle.
Appreciate if you will, this well-crafted masterpiece from several angles,
then make a hasty escape to Viktor’s Great Gate at the end of the walk.
copyright © Caroline Grace 2011
Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 8:56 AM UTC
Beautiful lofty things; O'Leary's noble head;
My father upon the Abbey stage, before him a raging crowd.
"This Land of Saints", and then as the applause died out,
"Of plaster Saints"; his beautiful mischievous head thrown back.
Standish O'Grady supporting himself between the tables
Speaking to a drunken audience high nonsensical words;
Augusta Gregory seated at her great ormolu table
Her eightieth winter approaching; "Yesterday he threatened my life,
I told him that nightly from six to seven I sat at this table
The blinds drawn up"; Maud Gonne at Howth station waiting a train,
Pallas Athena in that straight back and arrogant head;
All the Olympians; a thing never known again.
1.8k
NO. NO SUGAR THANK YOU.
Took the telegram
from the telegram boy.
He looked like an angel.
"STOP!"( stop )it said.
It was from Death.
"Ahhhhh man..!" I said.
"I haven't got time to die!"
I sent a telegram back
quick as a flash.,
" NO STOP!"(stop).
I deleted Death
from my facebook friends.
Death sulked.
Hotfooted it to God..
"Tell himmmm!" Death boo hoo hoo'd.
God called me up.
But I ooops dropped
my mobile down the loo.
Flushed it away.
I hid my soul
behind an ormolu clock
that hadn't told the right time
for a long time now.
I stuck it to the back
with well masticated chewing gum.
Wrigleys.
The Devil I knew
invited me to tea.
"Is it hot in here or
. . .is it me"
My life struggled like a fly
stuck on flypaper.
"Shall I be mother?"
"One lump or two"
the Devil inquired politely.
"No. No sugar
thank you!"
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
NISI...become. . . ABSOLUTE
early summer falls across
the lawn...the trees
the bars of a cage
sunlight and shadow
our jailers
our own good selves
and we
the prisoners
of this summer's day
"Shall I compare thee to.."
I laugh to myself
no...I guess not
we forever imprisoned
in sunlight and shadow
an image made real
memory holds us here
trapped in this conceit
sentenced to be who we could never be
and so we sat until
sunlight relinquished
its hold over the world
and so we sat until
darkness swallowed us whole
only our voices visible
only our vices invisible
as always
each the murderer of the other
now no longer
man & wife
I glimpse my face in a fish knife
the decree nisi
still tucked behind
the ormolu clock
the divorce
still eats at my soul
this piece of paper mocking me
and now
the decree absolute
we sit down to our last supper
the cat devours
( I don't tell you that )
the fresh trout
the fresh trout
all dressed up in its dish
like a sacrifice
I shoo the cat away
it snarls at me
"Ticktock!" laughs the clock ormoluly
the cat looks at me
with disdain...scorn
licks lovingly its *****
I cut the cat-chewed bit away
serve up with a too rich sauce
the unseen incident not noticeable
and so after all
I still serve you
before me
you smile your smile
say we should have
"...maybe stayed together after all..?"
too late now I think
to recall
the people we used to be
we different people now
"Time doesn't heal..!" I think
"...Time's a heel!" I secretly smile
I pass the port
a crumb of Stilton still stuck
charmingly upon her chin
"The sunlight on the garden
hardens and grows cold."
I quote MacNeice to the parrot
"We can not catch its minutes..."
the parrot continues and I finish
"...within its nets of gold."
memory still holds me
prisoner in that garden
I watch her taxi pull away
the taxi turns the corner
blinks a right turn
and is gone
back in the kitchen
I let the cat finish
my untouched trout
I flambé the decrees
both nisi and absolute
watch us go up in smoke
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC