'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
Click here to buy the paperback or download the ebook for free.


Thursday, April 12, 2007

 

Opposites Attract

I like taking free kicks and heading the ball.
I tripped on a step once and headed a wall.
I didn't like that, but I was okay.
Sometimes it affects what I vampire bat say.

I once was persuaded to try a blind date
With a very attractive young woman called Kate.
We went out for dinner and then had a drink
And a very long chat and a bit of a think.

A bat of her eyelids was loaded with meaning,
Or else the rooms in my mind needed cleaning.
I leant slightly closer and said with a smile,
"I like your lightning conductor hair style."

I don't know what evil impulse had possessed me
To comment on hair. What greatly distressed me
Lay in the way my remarks had impressed her.
The strange esoteric impulses that dressed her

Were somehow consistent with lightning and thunder.
My brilliant insight had initially stunned her,
Then filled her with wonder that danced in her eyes.
Mine only froze in the grip of surprise.

She asked my opinion on things far outside
My limited dominion. I chose to provide
The vaguest of answers to questions relating
To her unique look. I stuck to just stating

My heartfelt approval for her fashion sense.
It's safer than taking a seat on the fence.
But all the time I was a prisoner to fear
That I'd say the wrong thing and make fun of her ear,

With its fancy ear-rings, like radio aerials.
She could have been hearing some ads for new cereals.
The other ear lacked its companion's apparel,
Like Scrooge from her version of 'A Christmas Carol'.

We went back to her place where questions and answers
Continued to tango like two ill-matched dancers.
Her questions were graceful like birds, and I hate those.
My answers were more like a sack of potatoes.

And this seemed to represent our inner workings,
An idea confirmed by a quick glance at her things:
A bookcase with books about modern composers,
And novels read by the well-read or dumb posers;

Walls that held paintings that mean things to those
Who'll outline their theories in elegant prose.
But I just saw paint left untrained to run wild,
Like a dog who won't sit or an unruly child

Who'll form an unholy, unhealthy alliance
With some endearing domestic appliance,
A food blender blending blackcurrants with cash,
And then blend this currency with Daddy's stash.

The paintings in my house will not need explaining.
They're guaranteed not to leave retinal staining.
They do what they say on the tin, with some free.
They come with their own money-back guarantee.

The one in the hall shows a tree on a hill,
A suitable setting for Jack and his Jill
To go for spring water to bring to a waiter.
She'll kiss his head better and he'll gladly date her.

He'll take her to dinner. Desires will be fought.
They'll pay through the roof for the water they brought.
They'll go back to her place for coffee or tea.
They'll sit by the fireplace to chat and then she

Will show him her paintings and talk about art
And novels before playing horsey and cart.
I started to think that we might have a chance.
Opposites sometimes as couples advance

Far beyond meeting and swiftly deciding
They'll only be opposite forces colliding.
They'll often unite and they'll make their friends shudder.
They're cheddar and chalk but they're made for each other.

I listened intently to her as she spoke
About paintings piercing reality's cloak.
It felt just like listening to ceiling paint dry,
But I got the impression that I should reply.

I tried to look thoughtful and cool. I stood tall.
But I just said, "I hit my head off a wall."
To which she responded with silence at first,
A language in which I was very well-versed.

I'd read countless female expressions before me.
They said 'You're worse than a wasp' or 'You bore me'.
Her's said 'He's telling the truth. Dear God'.
She forced a faint smile and she managed a nod.

She said she'd enjoyed the few hours of our date.
She'd hate it to end but it's getting quite late.
I took my cue, got my coat, said goodnight,
Erasing my portrait for good from her sight.

An unforeseen fall and a blow to the head
Might bring Jack and Jill to the point where they wed.
But I lack the luck of a Jack in my falls.
I purposely loudly exclaim the word 'balls'.






Very Slight Stories

Henry Seaward-Shannon

The East Cork Patents Office

The Tree and the Horse

Mizzenwood

Words are my favourite noises




Previous Poems
Archive

Poems from 2004
Poems from 2005









Links

HumorLinks

Gizmo's (Non)sense

Pretty Cunning

The Dossing Times

Fustar

Cruiskeen Eile
Kevin Myers' blog (sorry, Colonel Kevin Myers).

The Chancer

Sinead Gleeson

Bifsniff.com

Archives

August 2005   September 2005   October 2005   November 2005   December 2005   January 2006   February 2006   March 2006   April 2006   May 2006   June 2006   July 2006   August 2006   September 2006   October 2006   November 2006   December 2006   January 2007   February 2007   March 2007   April 2007   May 2007   June 2007   July 2007   August 2007   September 2007   October 2007   November 2007   December 2007   January 2008   February 2008   March 2008   April 2008   May 2008   June 2008   July 2008   August 2008   September 2008   October 2008   November 2008   December 2008   January 2009   February 2009   March 2009   April 2009   May 2009   June 2009   July 2009   August 2009   September 2009   October 2009   November 2009   December 2009   January 2010   February 2010   March 2010   April 2010   May 2010   June 2010   July 2010   August 2010   September 2010   October 2010   November 2010  




A Walk in the Rain

 | poetry from Ireland



This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?