I am Ernest

Tonight, I am Ernest Hemingway
Scribbling in a darkened pub
And I listen to Len singing,
"Her eyes they shine like the diamonds,
You'd think she was queen of the land,
Her hair hung over her sho-ul-ders,
Tied back with a black velvet band"
Then he sang about The Isle of Man
And suddenly!! I see...as he'delays' seeing me
The Isle of Man!
Married Nick is here with a bevy
And Ooh, look at who's walking through
The Smile of Indulgence
Clutching her man. Securely?
I turn her lofty gaze away
It doesn't matter
Because tonight...I am Hemingway
The reveller
With a passion to write

"Another drink?" I heard the waitress ask
"With your down eastern personality,
how can we refuse"
The American male half of the entrenched couple answered
Whoosh! The handsome bald cigar has just aired the place
I pull my sleeves down as the breeze sweeps in from the patio
"Ah, the sea breeze of Windsor Ontario", the male grins
Len shakes the guy's hand as they engage in small talk
"I saw you scribbling, she said
We connect and she welcomes my longhand.

Len sings about "the craic"
I don't understand the brogue'
It's gaelic for "fun" I'm told
The Irish do have a huge, quick way of speaking songs
"What do you do with a drunken sailor early in the morning"
Nothing much (I think)
Drink in hand, Len invites a singalong
His wit flashes, "Close your eyes, hold hands with the person
next to you...contact the living!"
Engrossed in the revelling, few hear his comical derision.

I listen again to the engaging couple as they converse with Len
Although they're not engaged; lovers, I suppose...
Mr.Sea Breeze says,"I'm from the east coast, I grew up Celtic"
Len, also an east coaster talks about the way he grew
Family, friends, breaking out with instruments and close voices
They understand each other, and I'm included
The handsome bald apron closes the patio off
Finally warmed, and having absorbed all that I need, I prepare to leave
As Len sings, "He was a getaway, got drunk all weekend"
Singing with that touchable Irish passion
My senses soothed,
"They shine like the diamonds"

I take the Kildare house with me,
In my little notebook...

Bubble Garden

Conceived in our vast, rolling country
We take pleasure in the park
at the edge of our city
We love our sunsets
where colour mingles in the winding garden
And the antics of people amuse
In the bubble garden

In this garden I am but one

What great force singled me to be here?
Sheltered
Out of harm's way
Out of famine's way
Out of dictatorship's way
Out of terrorism's path
Free
It's so good to be!
Simply be!

I penned this poem before the "free world" was attacked. I will update.
I'm sure it's not just my heart that beats sadly.
We will persevere against evil.

But, will the bubble burst?

A Face

His face
Manifestly contrived
In constant movement
Laughed and teased roguishly
The fun tugged at me
And, something that mimicked love bloomed on his face...
As though inventing me
He said, "I love you".

His face
Tired out, impatient, incredulous,
Became a myriad
Of ever-changing
Shades of sadness, derision,
and constrained rage.

Ah, those eyes
So quizzical
Keenly trained on the world
Interestingly absorbed
By turns,coolly warm, calculating, soft, or hostile
He smiles.
Frowning out the dimples in a quite boyish face
Sometimes aged by cynicism face
He viewed the world
Single-mindedly, fanatically

The jaw line set
His eyes, unsettled
Mad, dark pools

A boy
He grew up
Famished for attention

Loving photography the way I do, this is one of my favourites.
However, this is A Face

Not loved
Rendered vulnerable
And incapable of wholly loving

A man
depleted by grief and anger
He retreated and advanced
Preened with a stratagem
Such a waste.

Because of that
No matter what I gave, or did
He attempted to quash the marrow of me
And daunted my requirement to be loved...
I walked away.

A Sailor Dress

It streamed through her
Waves that hurt
Fragments of her being caught their eyes
 Vicious, cold gleaming stars
Blood of her insides seeped onto their hands
And soaked the white of her sailor dress...
There was blood on the moon that night

During the hours of that long, black night
Her raped torso shuddered to a silent halt
Beneath the almost leafless branches of an elm

Overwrought, her brain didn't comprehend
Would it ever end?
It wouldn't-until pounding feet left

Life had ended as she knew it
She moved the last leaves of the elm
With her jagged breath
And with winter's decline
She died inside

Finally, birds trilled their life giving sonatas
Her smile reached the outside and
She answered.

Message to Asshole

Between meeting and leaving
Passion roars
Like a crashing tide
And drowns my name

Then, you couldn't be bothered

Shadowed by need
I learned a little about you
After awhile
I knew another self-involved man
Your name written
All over yourself

And I can't be bothered

Silence in the Air

She clawed for air
This lonely woman
Spun spun words

Like trees have leaves 
That fall aground
Her words and tears
Blew blew around

No one listened
No one was there
There it went
 Round and round

I tried to reach through silent air
As she fought for her share
Around and around
She couldn't get there
We couldn't get there
Now she lays
Beneath ground
There's no sound
There it goes
Round and round...for Connie

Forgiving

I've never seen anyone burdened by
So much pain
Such rage
Such sadness

Forgetting
An impossible task for the betrayed

You work toward forgiving

Pompous, hollow pricks
Are those who have been wounded
And become hard-boiled
That is their
Burden

There are those who have
Capacity
For compassion
They will
Hear you
You will
Hear them

Know that time will come
When you find a softer way
To remember