bernard Kennedy, 27 stycznia 2012
A dream of Father, and
and now, in dream of Joseph
a new dream,' mind the woman,
and the child'.
and Joseph, listening
in silence, hermit like,
to the dream of dreams,
takes care.
and the son, is born.
Listen to the fream
to whom the first born right
belonged.
bernard Kennedy, 27 stycznia 2012
Summer is brought
through this Lemon zest
of colour--
reflected under the chin
means that you like
a flavour.
And in the meadows
of childhood,
and laughters' happiness,
caught between
the embrace of trees,
at Glendalough,
we sit together.
Like buttercups,
In the meadow of laughter,
a reflection upon my chin,
and smile and
laughter.
Like a buttercup in the summer meadow
your happiness
reflects and refracts.
bernard Kennedy, 27 stycznia 2012
Irish Poet Padraic Colum:
I heard about you in school.
as young aspirant 2 the word.
And now living on your street
saying mass in yr church,
whereas an old man,
you walked Edenvale Road upwards,
and sat over 2 d right
thinking?
' to Meath through the pastures'
Yes life is short,
' through Westmeath,
by the sea', of Galilee.
a drover of word of stock,
in verbum pastures.
Your cattle the lexicon,
America,nationalism,
and Colaiste Eanna
and now, all that..
And her majesty prays,
as ' she moves through
the fair', at Islandbridge.
Your wife, sister,gone to
those, and through those,
pastures.
past the Longford roundabout,
where your cattle drover might sit?
And my Longford blood
looks at the plaque,
' Here lived Padraic Colum'.
The oak of Yeats, shadowed
the moonlight of the Word,
cattle of country conversation,
theatrical man of letters,
'go my cattle and
me'. not forgotten,
now a hundred years on
the hidden sapling shadows the rest.
And i am back in Longford,
and at school in Curchtown,
And Brother Edwrds reads aloud,
' a great poet this Colum'.
Thinking of u @ beechwood.
bernard Kennedy, 25 stycznia 2012
But Yes, its best to go gently there,
into the night, its when we sleep,
and peacefully,drift there,
where dreams and memories
and visitors come,
to speak or laugh.
And photographs are
alive with presence and shapes.
For the night lights the day and is
its shadow and semblance,
and contrasts the day with measure.
for the night light is where the magic is
the imaginings and dreams and calm waits.
Then why want to womb kick and dreams wait and calm shiver,
when gently goes the ship sailing round
the coast into more
pleasant wakening.
No protest change nor anxious
wait color more niceer,
but ease in the new.
Go gently then, starboard.
even keel, towards dawn,
the shore tranlucent with borealis green,
the trust and joy is colored.
bernard Kennedy, 25 stycznia 2012
I never though him dead.
Only running in the park,
as I jog, beside.
and sitting stretched by the fire,
or with his paw,
pushing his dish,
'more water,now'.
And barking, for post
and visitor and exits.
and up the stairs at ten
and down again at six.
A rhythm of memories
and habits.
Until his back legs gave,
and the vets scanning eyes,
'he has had a good life'.
i held him as he passed,
and watched him, in tears,
go, to another field,
I still can sense him here,
in the house,
on the staircase just past ten,
or in the hall at six,
or lying on the duvet sleeping.
bernard Kennedy, 25 stycznia 2012
I always think of my father
when I polish my shoes.
I see him,with his good shoes,
the brown ones,placed on the table,
on paper,an irish press,given
by my mother.
The brushes out,one to polish,
one to shine. First the brown polish applied,
like wax,slowly and evenly,
the left hand within the shoe to swell it,
like an anvil, carried out in memory,
the right hand driving the brush.
Thelaces out so the tongue too will shine.
First one brush entering crevices,
between the leather and the soles or heels.
then tea,and when the kettles done,
the shining brush,the same holding,but
the movements more swift and decided
and purposeful,like the movement of a train,
his singing ' o what a beautiful morning', from Oklahoma,
and the shine, a glare, now ready for the next morning.
His concluding the song and followed with
'theres no business like showbusiness'.
When i brush my shoes, I remember the song,
and see the shine, coming to the fore,
on my own brown shoes.
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