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


Thursday, September 13, 2007

 

Life to the Full

Colin needs a drink
  To feel its warmth begin to spread,
To stop a cold November
  From beginning in his head.

The people in the pub
  Are disappearing by the hour.
They're hunched above their drinks.
  They hide beneath a cower

That keeps the world away.
  They're invisible as drunks.
They drink a type of whiskey
  That was made by island monks

Who went insane and lived in holes
  And thought their heads contained
Sawdust, sand and paperclips.
  Deep mysteries, they explained.

Babies talk of days gone by
  When they were in their prime.
They're yet to leave the pram
  But they feel the weight of time.

Other people in the pub
  Are crushed beneath the weight.
A woman at the bar
  Has surrendered to her fate.

She says they call her 'Silent'
  Coz she hardly says a word.
Her voice is just a whisper
  That would not disturb a bird.

But she tells him her life story,
  Full of whistles, bells and lies
That make the sweetest sound
  And they drown out all the noise.

In Julie Andrews afternoons
  She sings and spins around.
In Mary Poppins evenings
  She shoots rats that cross the ground.

She loves the thought of travel
  But she never goes away.
She knows too well that her desire
  To leave is here to stay.

She'd like to work in airports,
  Or in an old train station.
She'd love to be a bar man
  But she'd need an operation.

She talks till after midnight
  And he takes in every word,
Along with frequent drinks
  Till the outside world is blurred.

A nurse says that he's dead
  And she tells him to go home.
As he walks along the footpath,
  He comes across a comb.

He tries to think of all
  The long-haired women that he'd met.
But he knows to find a comb
  Is as sure a sign of death

As two legs sticking out
  From beneath a ten-tonne weight.
A Banshee would be near him.
  She'd be looking for a date.

He doesn't move as he looks down
  At his unlucky find.
Thoughts of life and death are played
  And re-played in his mind.

He remembers city streets
  On summer evenings long ago,
Wearing chequered shoes
  And playing chess against a crow.

The pubs were full of actors
  Who were posing at the bar.
The men in darkest corners
  Were proposing from afar.

Throughout his younger days
  He discovered many truths,
Like 'never walk on burning coals
  Unless you're wearing boots'.

And wear your running shoes
  When you hear 'Release the hounds'.
The greatest grand pianos
  Can produce transcendent sounds,

And then they fall to pieces
  On the footpath at your feet.
Minds can be affected
  By the night and summer heat.

He remembers days of rain,
  Walking slowly, getting wet.
His thoughts are interrupted
  By the sudden sound of death.

A Persian cat's meow
  Makes him scream and run away.
The sound instils a fear
  That makes him lock his door and pray.

He vows to change his ways,
  Not to waste his days away,
And though he makes this promise
  Nearly every second day,

This time it's for real.
  He can feel it in his soul.
After sleep, a day that's full
  Of life will be his goal.






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A Walk in the Rain

 | poetry from Ireland



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