Skip to main content

A proper winter day

 

A proper winter day

 

A proper winter day

Good day sir

May I kindly assist you?

Etcetera etcetera

With some grey

& with some cold damp

& yet I see pink within the grey

& yellow & blue & green

Were I a painter

I would use all the colours

To try communicate the awesomeness of the grey blanket thrown across the clotheshorse in the sky

I rode a bicycle when a boy in Beaumaris

I hit a bump one day & fell

& no one stopped to help me

I was 14 or 15

Evidently teenage boys are not well liked

I went crazy in Singapore & received assistance

We should soon take that toilet mat in

It’s been rocking on the line a while

It’s now a darker navy grey

I once saw an elephant ride a bike

Or it may have been a bear

After a bush walk with Pepper

A deeper purple in the grey

Shot with orange

& some clear sky blue beyond

& collars of white

It’s a good day

I did the washing

Now on an old fashioned wooden clotheshorse in front of the heater, thanks Max

The light has lifted

Food in the oven

The kettle boiled for another hot water bottle

Who is the rightful hero of this tale

She walks a keen gaze

Beneficent & wise

Efficiency & silence a great friend

He rides a red rattly squeaky tricycle

Like a ruddy cheeked child

All is calm

All is quiet

Entering eye & ear the universe of silence

Listening in being caressed

In the inner ear

Except for the interjection!

No sooner I speak

Of Max’s infernal telephone

Ha

Good to have struggles

Growth regimes

Else one dwindles

I wish to be easy with the fuckin breazy

“How would the poet feel about steakington?”

“I don’t mind, if that phone would shut up!”

Domesticity with housemates

Like a blackbird digging for worms

I dig for quiet fire

The sun comes out, a flock of pigeons & a breeze & this poem can rest & live.

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In a very unorthodox way

  In a very unorthodox way # (For Max Sometimes) In a very unorthodox way, I’m an Irish Catholic. Of course, in terms of Belfast politics that MEANS something. & while that maybe true – in Australia, for different reasons, as Fr Bob Maguire put it – when Mary first saw Jesus walking out of the tomb on day 3 of his death, she exclaimed “JESUS!!!” – the first time his name was used as a swear word. In that way of an irreverent joke, REVERENTIAL & ORTHODOX are not my way to the Sacred/Love*. For me – I’m not really into Theology – as Max Sometimes quoting me, quoting my mate Richard, quoting Bob Marley, quoting Rasta elders, said today “who feels it knows it.” & I believe that if I am to write my Mass/Symphony of Hope/Love, I must include at least one blasphemous hymn, else the vision depicted be simplistic, like George Handel’s Messiah. The Hope/Love represented or perhaps alluded to (if you prefer) must include genuine despair, dejection, transgression else it...
Post a Comment
Read more

An Australian funeral 2024

  An Australian funeral 2024 Urn scattering Irish ashes Australian Irish son Australian Jamaican chief mourner Pelicans present The visiting witnesses: Random assortment of fishermen Seagulls both native & non Boaties hosing off their hulls Nice waving guy Frenchman who told strange story Retiring to Funk & Reggae Herb white rum & okra steamed with salt Getting deep Riffing on Tripping Still despite the fact that I’m tripping you’re tripping they’re tripping Tripping Tripping You’re tripping etc Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1742) “Man is born free Yet everywhere in chains” This IS a WELL established fact Yet still the ignorant are in power & not solely Still people pull the chains to their conditionally adjusted above maximul pull I’m tripping  Chief Mourner unable to tell story Son cackling like a hyena  Angry neighbour on hands free  Chief mourner recovers his flow “I ain’t mad at you” Delivers vocal trip drop Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024....
Post a Comment
Read more

Love

  Love   Some people exude a loving energy Like Mary & you feel transformed From your woes & spleen & love is woken in you   They made no mistake when they named her Light floods you when you’re with her & though she struggles to find words Now she’s 91 years old She loves all the more Like the unknowable name of God   Like that Indian girl People would visit To receive wisdom & healing Just by her presence She locates the good in me & I feel so much better About being alive   She reminds me That I can play that role for others That I can let go of the grief, the hurt & let go of the rage   She reminds me of my mission To bring truth & light Through the darkness & show the path to follow For other lost people    & that the love she exudes Is as much a reflection of my love That I had forgotten I possessed     Published ...
Post a Comment
Read more