I’m a spring tide going out,
an uncrowned berry on a bush,
a dreaming fox in a blurb
of moon-some dancing
with a string of stray sausages
tossed over one shoulder
and a free faux pas picking
at placebos dipped in fear.
My whispers shout – it’s me!
Stars and days queue up
to consider me – isolated,
a nocturnal beast at bright-time
with nothing better to do
than throw a spotlight on myself,
the unused actor pleading to play
the skeleton of a fairy queen
sneaking past a therapist’s sofa.
Clapping and candles
don’t tell the whole story.
Terry McDonagh (www.terry-mcdonagh.com) has taught creative writing at Uni. Hamburg and was International School Drama Director. Published eleven poetry collections as well as letters, prose and poetry for young people. A much travelled poet, he’s been translated into German and Indonesian. Latest poetry collection, Fourth Floor Flat– 44 Cantos – Arlen House. He’s, recently, returned to live in Ireland.
Would love to hear Terry read this poem as he is the “master “ of story telling
I Love to hear you read your poems Terry.Keep up the good work.