Monday, 21 September 2009

Posted Poetry

The good man Colm Keegan posted me some poetry as he promised (a long time ago it feels) A very nice surprise.

 

Chalks 

 

These coloured chalks

Fell into my lap

Fruit from a swaying bag

On a passer by.

So I use them.

To plead and swear

upon the slabs

That you wear and tear upon

and smooth out with your feet.

 

'Look at me!', I write

'I am beneath you, like the pool

from a leaky radiator,

like the roots beneath the trees.'

 

My knees don't feel

the cold housed in the concrete

I gave up on heat.

Your street

Is a barren whore to me

Anyway.

 

I seek to plant nothing

But words.

And if the rain

washes them away

If no-one sees what I say

The chalk dust

At least

will brighten the dirt

trapped by my fingernails.

5 comments:

  1. niiiice.
    you've made me remember all those chalk designs we made, up and down the sidewalk for blocks.

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  2. Nice one Uiscebot
    Plead swear wear tear, plant the words.

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  3. I liked this very much. I like the way I can't quite touch it.

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  4. *leans back in chair and ponders.... slowly smiles.... :-)

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  5. Like chalk brightening the dirt under nails, lovely... if only those poor kids had a chalk holder, deprived they were...

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