Poetry

Donncha O Caoimh

By

Patricia Walsh

Thinking Better of It

Travel on satellite and a prayer.

Minding one’s own business, beyond censure

Eating kale crisps to sate conscience

Coming over strange is not your fault.

Fainting in the tattooist’s chair

Leaving it up to the hairdresser

The same argument resting on another’s case

A day out would help matters, no real type.

An open window cauterises sleep

Illusions and delusions step in to help.

Jesus dying for the ungodly, a happy disposition

Calling back salvation where it lies.

Start local. The dead don’t need the money.

Hurting through the pocket a lesson supreme

God should have given us a written exam

To see what’s regurgitated in order to pass.

Pigeons in unison, fly to rooftops

In perfect time, eating the scraps

No one cared to muster, not even the binmen

Serving a purpose otherwised denied.

We all have a purpose, like it or not,

A calling despite ourselves, from our comfly situation

Casting a cold eye over future accomplishments

Being good for its own sake is best.

The Sky and the Ground (A Yola Song)

Grappling with words, a brilliant detour

To a front of house snug living room.

Served throught a cubby hole by the bar

Checking deficits, thoughts and blessings counted.

From an elevated view, the people mill past

A slow-drinking pint punctuates will.

Jetting in the half-light, witnessing the page

Come alive despite questions on the table.

Soliciting laughter, sternly on track

The craft beers upstairs exiting mundanity.

Small wonders troubling in the small hours

Regular occurrences dying in the night.

Functional alcoholics play with profession

Resting festive bars on one wing and a prayer

Rearranging the frame of aggrandisement

Just walking away is a blessing.

Noisy, alone, an empty vessel rattling

Costing significantly before the night

No more strange times I am, tedium permitting

Drinking a long time, steady as she goes

Pedestrianised streets, humble walkways

Sentimental jewellery flashes at will

Empty reckonings a blast way past

Wrestling with words like an argument.

Patricia Walsh

I was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland, and was educated in University College Cork, graduating with an MA in Archaeology in 2000. Previously I have published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications n 2010, and have since been published in a variety of print and online journals. These include: The Fractured Nuance; Revival Magazine; Ink Sweat and Tears; Drunk Monkeys; Hesterglock Press; Linnet’s Wing, Narrator International, and The Evening Echo, a local Cork newspaper with a wide circulation. I was the featured artist for June 2015 in the Rain Party Disaster Journal. In addition, I have also published a novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014.