Michael Butchin's poems
Nessa (nessa@pop.indigo.ie)
Fri, 18 Dec 1998 15:15:38 +0000
Alone
I am alone.
Fear imprisons me.
Love cannot reach my heart;
For Fear is already there.
I want to love.
I want to be loved.
But this is not possible;
For Fear imprisons me.
And I am Alone.
First Attempt
One day I wrote a poem on my wrists,
The greatest poem that I'd ever write.
Asleep, I wrote it in the dead of night;
I etched it in with care and clenched my fists.
I wrote it with my very sharpest pen;
Its stanzas ran from elbow-joint to palm.
After I had finished, I felt calm,
And knew I'd never write such work again.
But as I felt the dropping of the ink,
I woke with fright and dropped the blade in fear.
And, numb with shock, I read the couplets clear
That spelled out what I'd never dared to think
When awake: I desired to die.
Alone and scared, I began to cry..
Accident
The child began to
Walk, but the car did not stop.
The scream still haunts me.
Yes, O Socrates
A questioner requires no special thought.
He need not be creative with his mind.
He looks upon what other men have wrought,
Exploiting ev'ry weakness he can find.
It helps to have adoring sycophants
Of comparatively small abilities
Who will always sing adoring chants
Of "It is Truth!" and "Yes, O Socrates!"
Well and good to strain at every gnat
To crush the dialectic of your foe;
But when you have succeeded then at that,
With what shall you replace it? Do you know?
If you can finish only half the job,
Please sit down and shut your noxious gob.
Before the Storm
The leaden skies of ancient copper hue
'Neath which the winds of far-off crag lands blew
Cast on all a new viridian pallor
Somewhat easing then the greyish squalor
Of the gathering, darkening clouds above;
And as a quilt drawn up with mother's love,
Thus tucked in the forests, moors, and fens,
And settled all the beasts within their dens,
Comforted and quieted: The world
At rest before that Zeus' bolts were hurled.
The winds blew hard and fresh the night before,
Foreboding what was then as yet in store.
The winds bore scent of water, earth, and stone;
Electric cupric skies began to moan..
Nessa O'Mahony
5 Walnut View, Brookwood, Scholarstown Road,
Rathfarnham, Dublin 16. Tel: 01-4938433, 088-2780944
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