Sunday, 8 July 2018

SEEDS

           SEEDS

               1

On a Sunday in mid-summer
Right at the edge of the park
You come to me;

Talking future plans,
Shining eyes,
And a heart that dared.
We saw ourselves

Buying a car to travel
Down to the coast
Whenever we took the urge

All planned out under the elm
Of eager spreading roots.
Many seeds scattered

Ideas with wings on the breeze
Hope floating all the way
Towards the sea along winding
Open-windowed roads.

             
             2

Smashed in spring - the last                             
Season you inhaled;
Lying singing on the back seat.

The front driver’s side was saved,
Letting me drive
To dreams that died.

Dreams have a way
Of coming at you by the front
And leaving by the back door.

I pass it now, the car
In the scrap yard
At the edge of the town
It’s only half now.


Friday, 22 June 2018

PASSING SUNSETS

PASSING SUNSETS

Evening, and there is nothing
To temp me indoors.

Warmed from a day spent in the sun;
I spin it on my fingertips,
Pass it, to my team-
Mates.

Scoring goals
Win rolls of respect. Talents
Swaying to the chants; that
Tribal-like victory dance.

Ball of mesmerising fire -
Football skills that inspire. Cool
Moves; dipping, diving,
Thriving, in the company,

Until friends slip away,
As they are called in -
One by one.

Alone, with a crimson sky;
The breath I take is sharp
Like loneliness,

As the night turns - flat.


A memory from my childhood published by poethead in 2015

https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison/
https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison/

Saturday, 9 June 2018

KILLRUDDERY

KILLRUDDERY

Beneath the elders
Where bumble bees
Lose themselves
In flowering thyme;

I lie down in dew-soaked ease.

And dog-rose is the scent
That makes my spirits rise
In the kingdom of the low –
Flying bird.

I take comfort on the mossy soil;
 
Last years leaves sweet;
Damp In the wing-tipped breeze,
To ease my mind and soothe
My brow;

In dappled light my speckled thoughts take flight…

And the worm-seeking thrushes
Make a rustling sound
Where life goes on
Underground –

Beneath the earthy mound.


Friday, 18 May 2018

THE VOYAGING VESSEL

THE VOYAGING VESSEL

Even as the tides subside
I glide the horizon like a black-
Backed gull.
Waves of awe unleash
A various world of

Words I find deep in the folds
Of a sail-weathered wind
Freedom
Like golden grain in my hand
Rolling the currents to fly
Against a limitless sky…

I harbour the salt and the scent
From bays of seafaring faces,
The sea of pearled possibilities
Where beneath the rim and the rhythm
Coral shells and speckled fish
Water me with colour



https://tintean.org.au/2017/02/06/poetry-13/



Saturday, 28 April 2018

CROSSROADS



One of my poems published by Monaghan Arts Network in this beautiful book published this year. This poem is about my granny from Castleblayney, Co. Monaghan. There are many contributions in the book from visual artists, crafts people, dance teachers, my old neighbour: entertainer and actor Pat Deery, scriptwriters, historian & poetry writers, a documentary writer, songwriters,  photographers, and sculpture artists.  All the other contributors including myself have performed at Monaghan Arts Showcase, hence the book gratefully received. The book available to purchase at the Market House, Monaghan and other outlets around the county.

One of my poems published in 'Gifts of the Mind'

One of my poems published by Monaghan Arts Network in this beautiful book published this year. This poem is about my granny from Castleblayney, Co. Monaghan. There are many contributions in the book from visual artists, crafts people, dance teachers, my old neighbour: entertainer and actor Pat Deery, scriptwriters, historian & poetry writers, a documentary writer, songwriters,  photographers, and sculpture artists.  All the other contributors including myself have performed at Monaghan Arts Showcase, hence the book gratefully received. The book available to purchase at the Market House, Monaghan and other outlets around the county. 






Wednesday, 28 March 2018

NET CURTAINS

NET CURTAINS

I am pulling down the net curtains
in haste, the ones you hate.

I am clearing the space for
you to fill with washing
and tales of how things
are with you.

The nets are in my arms,
and your car is on
Daffodil Lane,

The smell of peat smoke,
roasted meat, wild flowers,
baked bread and now –
your perfume in my arms
In the bundle of nets I hold


(A poem from a few years ago when we nearly moved to a house with net curtains and our daughter was mortified, and I imagined living there and her coming home from college for the weekend)