Freedom’s call

Flags can change and martyrs die
and though fortresses may withstand time
home is never quite the same
once you’ve left it
this life comes without guarantees;
we can crumble just
as easily as our dreams.

So let’s embrace this moment
this now
come with me to where the night meets the dawn.

Because the wine will never again
taste so sweet
and the rain will never be as soft
because we only have today
forget tomorrow and let the rest of the world turn on
turn around
turn around.

So let’s embrace this moment
this now
come with me to where the night meets the dawn.

Day 25 of NaPoWriMo suggested beginning with a line from another poem. I chose a line from the song, Subversives.

Paradoxical Serendipity

a motorbike howls
tempest of smoke-smog
billowing loud
drowning out birdsong
clouding neighbourhood sunlight
swallowing weekend’s gaity
in ignoble protest


but there’s something there
it yanks blood ties untested
unravels memories felt
(not remembered)
this disturbance of the peace
cradles my childhood
like buttercup yellow
bright, innocent
precarious at road’s edge
tumbles me into thoughts
I had lost
sought these 30 years

Where is the nobility in this dream?

Building something out of a mix of overly-poetic and everyday words for NaPoWriMo day 24 prompt.

Aiteacht* (The poets saw it first)

Hail forever, poets, harpers, artists:
you of privilege who
by your dream-trance visions
have seen and heard
we recognize your right of demand;
sing and bring to us
(mere mortals)
the truths of existence
the extent of extent –
the time of distance,
the space of time.
You alone among us sense
the secrets from beyond
you alone have crossed boundaries
we may not cross.
Bring forth now to us your Death Tale
from the mists of invisibility.
As you have seen it,
so be it.


*meaning “sensation of things being not quite right but not being able to tell why.”

A long overdue poem inspired by a Druid Gaelic Dictionary I found online, prompted by the NaPoWriMo day 17 prompt which suggested creating a poem around words found in a specialized dictionary. Interestingly, there is a druidic term (achar feadha’s feadh achair, which the dictionary explains is “untranslatable”) for what quantum physics now tells us about gravity; that it is not a force of attraction but a curvature in the fabric of space-time.

The Tree

In wanting to re-mould this gentle tree 
(its branches danced and swayed once, elegant
though shaded all the garden’s blooming plants)
he aimed to trim and shape its crown of leaves.
Departing from sweet natural beauty
an architect’s design he sought to grant
imbued with his own flair, vision – his stamp
and an elegance almost Japanese.
But she favoured a fairy forest wild
from ancient memories of land untamed
inspired not by plans, nor tagged and named,
left free to grow like wonder in a child.
‘Tween wild and pruned a compromise was made:
sheared branches leave the sun on plants to smile.

A sonnet about garden wars for NaPoWriMo day 23 and the anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.

Rain two ways

Spring Rains

Along canal lane ways and byways
between quickening lilac bushes and cherry trees
(their coming glory subtle yet,
spring unfurls
sweet and rain-drenched
chasing worms from black soil
heralding fresh greens
coaxing slow-bursting buds
the soft damp
but for the living trail
it spreads in its wake.

Drought Rains

When the rains come
they overwhelm in torrents
dry ochre sands run blood-red
an upwelling from Earth’s heart
their paths etch across the miles
river beds shadow-darken
an unnatural seepage
until finally, flowing
they transform the land
drawing animal forms
up and out and into being
carelessly they cavort at water’s edge
at their feet, a carpet of soft hues
bursts forth
filling the space to the horizon
this celebration of life
is fleeting.

Two rain poems for NaPoWriMo’s day 22 Earth Day prompt.