My Poetry is an extension of myself. It's my soul standing naked and raw, unashamed for the world to see. Of Silken Waters is a book of no intent. It emerged from under a rock of loneliness like a spirit-possession luring me to places I have never been. It's my mirrored self, gifting me the grace to confront endurance with a metaphorical chastisement. My poems are my life on page, never apologising for their unwillingness to be defined or be nailed down.

Poems

Check out this section to read a poem that I have chosen to feature here on my website. I find it hard to select one poem, because they are all like my children.
I hope each poem offers a fresh insight into my poetry.

The poem I have chosen for April is:



The Falling Finch

A shivering finch, searches for food
in the rising snow, its stubby beak thinly tapping
the Koch curve of snowflake, a gladius of piercing frost
protrudes from his narrow tail. The wind hardens
and the grey sky scrolls back to blackness.

Gulls with their throats half cut
hover in awestruck intensity, looking
for the sharpened edge of bread, the tiny finch
is outnumbered his body spelling death in the snow.

Earth worms sleep deep, in soiled cots,
untouched by the weightless sleeve of hail.
There is nothing between the earth
and the frozen snow, only damp sprouting eyes of silence
gawping helplessly at his bundled hunger.

Along the edge of my garden, a trench of haunting tracks
find shelter from their sunken self.
Grabbing a fist of golden cereal, I sprinkle them in my footprints.
The shivering finch ascends, in a chariot of flaxen light,
to feed and restore in my impression.

Famine

A series of poems written for the National Famine Commemoration in Ireland and abroad between 2010 and 2012. When composing Flowers of Humility and Question of Hunger, I adapted my style of poetry to reflect the language of that period.

1916

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