Poetry

Murphy’s Pub

Talking and chuckling Irishmen
sit upon their dark oak stools.
Momentarilyglaring into their pints as they
wave and flick away the summer midges that swarm about.

It was his 27th birthday and those
were the sights he fell upon as
he hobbled in the cheerful pub.
His eyes bloodshot and his gob ajar.
He leaned back and folded his hands casually
behind his head.

The buzzing of the purple neon whisked away
all of his nagging worries that circled overhead.
Joyful familiar chants of gaelic and Irish folk
songs hover through the dry sizzling air.
The bartender passes pints both left and right.

He slumps himself into a worn and tattered stool.
Cracks and creak echo from his weathered bones.
He cradles a pint with both rough calloused hands.

Home.
A word he had not used in quite some time.
Before he would think of home as a safe haven
to get him through the long, long days.


Gary’s Repetitious Tale

To every place we went.
Garry got tired and spent.
He would wander about.
We would shout his name out.
Then a rescue team had to be sent.


Hardened Stone Celtic Cross in The Fields of Sneem

Flares and flecks of green earth
climb my base.
Sun burnt and warmed earth swaddle and nestle me.

Cheeps and chirps of daring birds dance in a silhouette.
My brilliantly cheerful friend
Is their background.

It is colder now.
The 40 shades of green of which I have
a great view of have become shades of grey.

Pelts of cold liquid crystal glop
against my hard exterior.
My cheerful golden friend is absent.

The world seems vast and vacant.

Impatience to greet my friend
is overwhelming.
Like the tide that roars
and rumbles from the ocean.

Alone.
When my fears are too heavy to bear.
My brilliantly cheerful friend leaps
over the dark horizon.


-Cliffs of Moher-

     His eyes meet hers.
Locked like magnets
with a single touch.
She quickly glances away
and he emulates.

He looks quick.
Then turns.
She looks playfully
and nudges inward.

Their hearts sync rhythmically.
The sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks.
Splish, splash, woosh,
crash against the rocks below.

Mouths are dry.
Palms are wet.
Fear and anticipation are absorbed.

She fumbles for his hand.
He does the same.
Tingling and electricity push through their bodies.

Their hands touch.
Inside they implode and explode simultaneously.
Intertangled and two parts of one.
Solemness and tranquility flood over them.

They look into the swaying aqua blue prism that lies beneath.
The ocean has many depths to still be explored.

They softly nestle inward.
Side by side.
Linked at the hip.

They look out over the cliffs.
Wondering what awaits them in the great beyond

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