Paris 4 Reunite

RIP Seamus Heaney

Song

A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.

There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens 

Seamus Heaney

Without Proof

Suppose my grandmother 
whose book I write in
still alive
wrapped in the red shawl
of her ninety-five years
fake flowers on her grave.

Suppose she had never been born-
who would have taken her place?
Six children; three his, three hers
seventeen year old young hands full
with mud of the land.

Now consider something or someone
you love is gone forever
or that they simply had not happened-
would you stop to listen
to the sound of a train telling stories
in the rain and in that instant
remember?

- Debbie Calverley

Count

How many days
has your sun set
your sun risen
over fields full
of surprises

a wildflower here
a polished rock there

bend of a horses neck
a paw at the ground
and yet everything appears
crickets never ending

I'm Not Here

and you were never
anything
not a great wind
a blazing sun
trees waving goodbye
a dying summer

Outstretch
thin air
shifts eludes
even fingertips
Now try and forget
Pretend

I was never there.

The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.

- Bob Marley

Richard Hawley - The Only Road