The Irish Soul

The wild imaginings of the hot Irish soul

Pause in quiet defiance

Marvelling at the oblique slash

Of Beauty

That airplane streaks across

The wide open sky

The cathartic

Setting sun

.

Soft lines mark the lull

The deep recess where

Coruscating consciousness collapses through

Moments of sense

The honey scent of your neck

The dew nestling on your inner thigh

In picnic time

At morning

The gentle rambling gurgles you chutter at night-time

When the mice sleep

The mirrored look you give me

When I stare into your eyes

In candlelight

The final sense I disremember

As the clarity reduces

And emotion charges through me

.

Oh that I can hold this time

Through all time

The days when lemonade will be made

On verandas

With long crickets hopping through long grass

And small children laughing in

The heat of the evening

Bouncing balls

And quips at each other

The days when I become

The natural actuality

Of this untamed Irish soul

.

Oh that I can keep your look on me

Through all the roads and rooms

We will pass and stop someday

.

Oh to the South Pole

And the merriment I request

Penguin cold

A day that’ll best unfold

With dancing bears

And polar sonic booms

Of your laughter in my ear

.

Oh that you were here to hear my thoughts

This pencil dries too quick

My digits too slow

Too steady

For the stormy flashdance of crunching love

That burns inside

Every inch of me for you

.

My wide ears are

Entranced by the prophecy

Revealing itself day to day

Habits and ways

The lynch, the cape, the coil

Reasoned attraction

The cascading forces pummelling

The yolk of life that

Exchanges moments of charity with

Nothing to lose

For nothing to win

.

This happy watery land

Where giant coloured fish

Mince bubbles and Cedar wood pines

Scraping the cloudless sky

Dropping finned cones onto the soft

Velvet grass

Where

A man will fish with

No need to catch

For he has been fed a

Thousand times