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Monday, June 22, 2015. You wore varicose veins beneath your dress. Lumped flesh, Rosaline, and a flowered silk. Your hair, you garnished in a purple dye. Youth carried on, recycled for that time. Together, you sat on a home-made stage. Piano played before out tea arrived. We watched on, vacant all; ladies, urine stale. Gentlemen staring silence in staled suits. I loved you, Rosaline, Romeo still. You were alive, though mirrored, shadowed so. And when your coarse voice had sung, it was me. Lying on my back.

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Poems | poems-debrun.blogspot.com Reviews

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Monday, June 22, 2015. You wore varicose veins beneath your dress. Lumped flesh, Rosaline, and a flowered silk. Your hair, you garnished in a purple dye. Youth carried on, recycled for that time. Together, you sat on a home-made stage. Piano played before out tea arrived. We watched on, vacant all; ladies, urine stale. Gentlemen staring silence in staled suits. I loved you, Rosaline, Romeo still. You were alive, though mirrored, shadowed so. And when your coarse voice had sung, it was me. Lying on my back.

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Poems | poems-debrun.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poems-debrun.blogspot.com

Monday, June 22, 2015. You wore varicose veins beneath your dress. Lumped flesh, Rosaline, and a flowered silk. Your hair, you garnished in a purple dye. Youth carried on, recycled for that time. Together, you sat on a home-made stage. Piano played before out tea arrived. We watched on, vacant all; ladies, urine stale. Gentlemen staring silence in staled suits. I loved you, Rosaline, Romeo still. You were alive, though mirrored, shadowed so. And when your coarse voice had sung, it was me. Lying on my back.

INTERNAL PAGES

poems-debrun.blogspot.com

1

Poems: Mary's Morning Poem

http://www.poems-debrun.blogspot.com/2012/08/marys-morning-poem.html

Friday, August 17, 2012. Silent is the clock upon the wall. Silent too the crash of ocean waves. For when you call to me, my love. The sound is all. And you and I are lost in fairy dream. 169;2012 Padraig De Brún. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). View my complete profile. Simple template. Powered by Blogger.

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Poems: June 2015

http://www.poems-debrun.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

Monday, June 22, 2015. You wore varicose veins beneath your dress. Lumped flesh, Rosaline, and a flowered silk. Your hair, you garnished in a purple dye. Youth carried on, recycled for that time. Together, you sat on a home-made stage. Piano played before out tea arrived. We watched on, vacant all; ladies, urine stale. Gentlemen staring silence in staled suits. I loved you, Rosaline, Romeo still. You were alive, though mirrored, shadowed so. And when your coarse voice had sung, it was me. Lying on my back.

3

Poems: Flight from Manchester

http://www.poems-debrun.blogspot.com/2015/05/flight-from-manchester.html

Friday, May 22, 2015. It cost a fortune to be there, flying from. Manchester's airport. I paid in soul first. Pangs. Birth Growth. Reluctant ageing. Reluctant age. And I carry my payment all about me. Signs of Dublin, other streets, daily trodden. On, leaving memories and forgotten things. And afterwards, other charges, more, unseen. An airport tax, a security guard, proud,. Friendly in his voice, eyeing the suspicion,. Offence of water. Recently bought. Caesar. Paid a fortune to buy this unwelcome thing.

4

Poems: Bleak Beauty

http://www.poems-debrun.blogspot.com/2015/05/bleak-beauty.html

Friday, May 22, 2015. Mine was no tin-mine. Nothing grand, stark,. Brazen autumn red, evening sun aglow. Brick upon stone upon stone, high rise. Above gorse, tawny fern, Cornish cliff. As if briefly infinite, eternal. Mine was just a path, an ordering of mud. Unearthing stone. Shifting, straining unearthed stone. Inches, feet, yards. A tiny expanse unending,. Ended And digging, the fertile give, orange-brown clay,. Through worm-aired muck to ungiving, granite-stop. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).

5

Poems: Boscean Birthdays

http://www.poems-debrun.blogspot.com/2015/05/boscean-birthdays.html

Friday, May 22, 2015. Alexander, tall, proud, pronounced in green, brown. Off-white; the yellow-flowered gold of prickled gorse;. A free-singing, morning thrush, antheming; and fairy-. Robins, tits, sparrows, flickering bush to bush,. Playing hide-and-seek with black, invisible. Birds; chough, gull, soaring, calling. Such is the. Decoration of fields, fields in which white-tailed. Bunnies skip, cows, black, brown, speckled, moove,. A lone white horse - much helloed - stands indifferent.

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Poems

Monday, June 22, 2015. You wore varicose veins beneath your dress. Lumped flesh, Rosaline, and a flowered silk. Your hair, you garnished in a purple dye. Youth carried on, recycled for that time. Together, you sat on a home-made stage. Piano played before out tea arrived. We watched on, vacant all; ladies, urine stale. Gentlemen staring silence in staled suits. I loved you, Rosaline, Romeo still. You were alive, though mirrored, shadowed so. And when your coarse voice had sung, it was me. Lying on my back.

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