Domineering Women

Domineering women
ruin these lands,
Petrified hearts
heavy hands.
New brute brokers
in power's brothel,
newly freed slaves
of genetic bottle.
Equality a myth,
a mobile goal,
from kitchen to Cabinet
craving control.
Rocking the cradle;
one hand free
to rattle the reins
of supremacy.
Mobile misses
tapping the tune
of forward march
with wooden spoon.
Long inferior,
equal then,
soon twenty cocks
to one hen.
Let them all ride
this trojan horse,
let them all feel
powers curse.
You, who would geld
gallant stable
come and be Cain
to my Able.

  (dedicated to M O'Rourke)

Shadow Lady.

Surreal place of shadow and light

your world; a cosy cocoon.

You bathe your ethereal body

in green tranquil seas of the moon.

Twilight existence of fanciful flight,

Deception and truth intertwined,

Cosmos and prisms and rainbows adorn

translucent cell walls of your mind.

Brief skirmish with life, then retreat

to safety invented at will.

Ghost apparitions of history dismissed,

dismembered and still.

Fantasy family, qualified friends,

Happiness; gaeity's feign,

No human or sorrow, no sinning,

No perverse or perish, no pain.

Convincing pretence of perfection

in limbo of cardboard and straw,

Denying the colour of blood,

Or wrinkle that bright mirror saw.

No need to die if you never exist,

A moon-child, an elegant elf,

Forever look over your shoulder,

Lest you come face to face with yourself.

(To be or not to be, that is the question.)

These things happen.

O God ! O sweet Jesus!

What am I going to do?

Womb baby trembling,

Carrier trembling too.

My mother will kill me,

Daddy, the neighbours, the shame,

A gone-away lover,

A baby with no father's name.

Hospital corridors; sterile

and cold theatre hood,

Masks; gowns; confusion,

Red pressure and blood.

Defiant and screaming

she pushes her way into air,

First contact, first kiss,

first glance at her father's fair hair.

Then gathering strength

from baby, family and friends,

We face this tough world together,

Make mistakes, make amends.

So much to give thanks for

to God and those who stood by,

We respond to the 'why not'

But no one may ever ask why.

Grandad.

Dull, dull sapphires

in beds of wrinkles set,

No more mortal sights beheld,

No catch for vision’s net.

Wisp of white thatch splayed,

Askance, cosmetic still,

Half hides gathering rust

of once iron will.

Mouth of million silent words,

Jaw set ever now,

Guarding useless windpipe, dry,

Propping furrowed brow.

Strumming fingers silent, set,

Limbs and torso slack,

Face-gaze permanent and grey

Vein juice, red to black.

A myriad of thoughts and dreams

petrified in mass,

Turning, changing, solid now

then liquid, soon to gas.

A tiny mound of massive life,

Lost droplet on life’s foam,

They came for him at sunset,

Grandad’s going home.

Sonnet for Colman's coming

Within the region of a father’s thoughts

Where fancy has small liberty to grace,

With fingers interwoven, palm in palm,

He lays content and sleeping in such heedless peace.

His dreams that murmur as they run

With hues of genius on his cheek,

He cannot know this world of woe

Where mother frets and smiles at every peek.

The Shannon and the Lee course in his veins

As all men are sons of common rains,

Now in my minds eye I seem to see him pace,

Stronger the scrum now, in ruck of human race.

She felt; he came from her and her from the earth,

Rejoice us; as the sky rejoices at the morning’s birth.

Dedicated to Colman James, son and grandson.