Collected poems - thoughts welcome

SAMurphy

The Mourning of the Fair City

Stand
Clear
Luggage doors
Operating

Stand
Clear
Luggage doors
Operating

Stand
Clear
Drunk man
Defecating
On a neighbour's doorstep
That wouldn't dare complain
Who prides himself in pain

Thrown out of one pub, into another
Where mothers of eighteen snub foreigners
& let themselves be seen,
Serving Guinness with a shamrock
Unnerving as you wonder whether to disturb the froth
As you walk the walk to your chair
By the table beneath the stairs

Wishing all the best
To the blonde girl with great breasts
& a decent face, in that order
That you'd never seen before, nor would again
For all the world a sweetheart
Based across the border

Your semi-digested kebab will lie there for a while
Dried out as you walk past the next day
The door will not open to suggest it may be occupied
Inside, a family of eight, hide in squalor, survive and hibernate
Happy to be stowed away-

While ignorance is walking on a path
Where only the seated can be respected
Talking on phones, clones affecting little
But repeated cycles of history

They look up to them
As though their kind donation
Was salvation, and they were Christ
For their 'one yo-yo seventy tree'
Testimony that sometimes, men weren't mice
Blinded when their tails fell off
Reminded by a subtle cough-

That standing tall is a privilege
As sitting small is art
Wrapped in skin four years out of date
A blanket of the same state, and a card
That almost made you cry, and would've had you not been late
'Hear no, see no, speak no
Three monkeys left to over-throw
Who takes away our daily bread
Shall be the last in heaven fed'
It rained upon the Ha'Penny Bridge.

SM '09

SAMurphy

Of Life

I am not just the mortal hand that craves to touch the skin
Whose journey through this fertile land must end for to begin
Nor am I thus empowered, to speak of wrong from right
For darkest is the hour that seeks to find the light
I am but of the ebb and flow; the tide that dwells within
Who knows both of the highest love and lowest depth of sin
Whose governance; the sun by day, the lunar phase at night
Is temporal, as animal, though permanent in rite.
My conscience wants no labels, my ego needs no fame
My spirit feeds upon itself to find a higher plane
The paths I tread are free in mind, where greed is but a blight
On man's designs for liberty, that breeds the will to fight
For I am all you think and more, as you are of the same
This universal consciousness that bore the human brain.

SM '10

SAMurphy

E-mail from Dog to Man

Hey man, how you doin'?

I was chewin' on your shoe
But gettin' pretty bored
So I thought I'd write to show you
How much that you're adored
I was gonna' use a pen
To be like Beckett, Joyce or Donne
'Til suddenly it struck me
I don't have any thumbs

I hope it doesn't scare you
That I've taught myself to type
I learnt how to read
Through the blogs people write
Please try to forgive me
If my grammar is shi*e
But I've no preconceptions
About what's wrong or what's right

So just think of this as your ego reversed
A speech to the nation that you haven't rehearsed
The mess that was left when the bubble had burst
When your past came last and this second came first

I've known you a long time and I've analysed you closely
This life that you've been living is a parasitic irony
That feeds upon the blood of self-fulfilling tragedies
Where days & weeks meet months & years with vague familiarities
But never are the boundaries pushed to be the best the self can be
Don't turn around in years from now and say that you remember me
When all you've ever seen me as is lucid domesticity
And only in your darkest moments looked to find the light in me

Look, I'm not trying to sound harsh, I'm just speaking my mind
I'd be everything you are if i knew how to lie
Your world is my life, man, if you asked me to die
I'd push back my ears and politely comply

But I have watched
And loved
Watched
And hated
Watched
And integrated
Hate with love as easily as
Innocence is obliterated
I have heard you screaming out the names
Whose overdose in pleasure brought you pain

And I have listened

As patiently as the wives of war
Victims pacing hospital corridors
Listened
To the horror
That man
Brings upon
Man

Yet still you rather the cat
'Cause he looks after himself
Stealing ham from the table
And cheese off the shelf
There's no co-dependence
It's each to their own
If your world fell apart
He'd just lick his own hole

But I think you should know
He's been plotting your death
Ever since that last ill-fated
Trip to the vet
Though looks are deceiving
He's completely insane
He's got no sense of reason
And he's numbered your days

Sometimes I wish I could talk
Or bring you for a walk
On a lead so you could see how it feels
To be me
'Cause if I could talk I too would blame astrology
Or clinical psychology, religious ideologies
Or pharmaceutical dichotomies
For everything that's wrong with me
When in reality
I am an animal
Who was born and who will die
Happy in the knowledge that I have lived and loved my time

So if you get this
And I hope that you do
I just want you to know
That I'm sorry about your shoe
But don't be worried about me
There's no need to reply
Just talk a bit louder
I'll be here by your side.

SM '09

SAMurphy

Arrogance

In his ego's eye
A flame of vanity burned
The tear ducts ran dry.

'Where you have come from..'
she said, a smile half-forming,
'..is where you belong.'

'In open meadows
The marigolds pass no heed
Of forests' shadows.'

'I've carried too long
The weight of your arrogance'
She rose, and was gone.

SAMurphy

The Whispering Sands

Standing by the bay window you looked amazed
"Beautiful, isn't it?", "Yes," I replied
My eyes fixed firmly on you, my gaze
reflected clear in the glass. You were silent
Deliberating what my word meant
"The beach..." I said, catching your nervous eye
That looked away toward the tide
"..is beautiful in summer." Soon we walked
the strand together. We talked
of God and of philosophy
Then sitting shoes and socks off in the sand
We laughed off what we couldn't understand
And as we gave the land to the rising sea
We wrote our future's history.

SM '05

SAMurphy

The Sacrament

Stumbling at the altar
He bowed his head in prayer
That no-one there had seen him falter
But none had stopped to stare
All haunted by their selfish ghost
They came to purge their sins
In rituals of hymn and host
The sacrament begins;
'Let us give thanks..' his arms spread wide
In unison they stood
'For it is right..' the drone replied
Though few quite understood
What thanks, if any, or to whom
Such praise was justified
Who knew but all within the room
Were born, now breathe, will die.

SM '10

jobee

SAMurphy wrote: »

The Sacrament

Stumbling at the altar
He bowed his head in prayer
That no-one there had seen him falter
But none had stopped to stare
All haunted by their selfish ghost
They came to purge their sins
In rituals of hymn and host
The sacrament begins;
'Let us give thanks..' his arms spread wide
In unison they stood
'For it is right..' the drone replied
Though few quite understood
What thanks, if any, or to whom
Such praise was justified
Who knew but all within the room
Were born, now breathe, will die.

SM '10

Very good all of them.

pickarooney

The first and third are excellent. The rest are just very good.

That's as in-depth as my poetry critiquing goes, I'm afraid.

bumm

Hey dude,

E-mail from dog to man is your early masterpiece.:)
Seriously - there quite witty and your obviously not
taking yourself too seriously. I enjoyed them.

BTW what are 'pharmaceutical dichotomies'?

cucbuc

I like the 2nd, 5th and 6th ones best. Your rhyming patterns flow well and dont seem forced. Some of them remind me of Philip Larkin's poetry. The resigned tone, maybe. Just a thought. Well done.

cucbuc

SAMurphy wrote: »

Arrogance

In his ego's eye
A flame of vanity burned
The tear ducts ran dry.

'Where you have come from..'
she said, a smile half-forming,
'..is where you belong.'

'In open meadows
The marigolds pass no heed
Of forests' shadows.'

'I've carried too long
The weight of your arrogance'
She rose, and was gone.

I had another look through them, and this one, while I like the last verse, seems obtuse to me. Can you explain what its about? Years of studying poetry in college have left me with the habit of analysing them for meaning. I tend to like best the poems I can identify with, to some extent. I suppose everyone does.

SAMurphy

It's about a friend of mine whose girlfriend broke up with him 'cause he started to believe in the hype other people were attributing to him. Primarily, the dangers the ego poses to the self, and when you start to follow it down the path by the time you turn around from the pedastal you've allowed yourself to be put on at the first waft of achievement, you realise that you're standing there alone and the people you've sacrificed along the way are the ones who gave you the confidence to be somebody to begin with.

When you think you're above others, you become below them. thanks for reading.

SAMurphy

I'm certainly not a genius, but thanks for your kind words. 'Pharmaceutical dichotomies' is just a posh way of saying biploar disorder, though it might not work for everyone, or anyone, i've been told it works particularly well as a performance piece. oh well it is what it is, also this was written at a time where everyone was being diagnosed left right and centre as being depressed and it annoyed me. The way i see it we're all mad and those who think they're not are the maddest of the whole lot..

SAMurphy

I
Here the rushing waters meet
To wash the weary mountain's feet
Where everyone will stop to greet
The stranger passing in the street

Although they may be friend or foe
To know they must acknowledge so
that passing time can soon decree
The mind's compatability

I came across the wooden bridge
As I approached the yellow ridge
Whose civil folk I duly found
Encaptured by their hallowed ground

II
To many places man must go
From faceless streets to empty roads
Through inner journeys of the soul
In stifling heat and bitter cold
If travelling but by the self
Those learning shall inherit wealth
Who need not false modernities
To cradle insecurities
Who fears but they be feared may find
The secrets of the human mind
Exposed in fields of fertile bliss
Where Spring has washed and Summer kissed

III
He whose vision of this land
In passing left the deftest hand
Upon the shoulders passion felt
In those who prayed and whom so knelt
Not at the covered altar there
But long before in open air
Whose heavens needed not a roof
To convalesce in their reproof
Whose ocean in the distance roared
'I'll comfort all who dare adore!'
So dare they did and there the gates
Stood open for the minds embrace

IV
I come in sadness to reply
That man ignored his battle cry
Where life but now computered mind
Has changed the face of humankind

Of Ireland's old, the remnants few
Still walk to smell the honeydew
Before the break of morning comes
Through concrete fields of damage done
We sacrifice, this mortal curse,
Our peace of mind for fattened purse
Whose Eden governed by the snake
Has hissed and cried 'The West's Awake!'
Allowing Adam and fair Eve
To profligate at which they please
And said 'Live life at liberty
Look not for what the future sees
But bask in these prosperities!'

By our consent the corporate shift
Came on the North-Atlantic drift
With plastic Gods of chip-and-pin
That gave to all who wanted in
Who never had before nor then
But thus emboldened could pretend
That never would they starve again
A fate that fell on greater men

Now silently they flock once more
The swallows perched to leave this shore
Yet their's is not a Spring return
For many seasons shall in turn
Pass longingly without the song
Of generations come and gone.

V
Upon his grave I lay my word
A gift onto the modern world
Here he lies where horsemen pass
At speed on roads where once lay grass
Their pockets laden seek to buy
The memoirs of this poet's life
Whose Anglo-Irish politic
Survived impassioned rhetoric
Behold the fascist, tourists all
Who walk this rocky, rolling ball
To capture moments with machines
Preserving loss of memories
Now find the peasantry reborn
In wealth the earth is left forlorn
We do not own our lives but owe
Until the winds of death have blown

Under bear Ben Bulben's gaze
The church majestic stands unfazed
Though Yeats in flesh has long decayed
His spirit in the mountain stayed
Outside the gates I stood to see
The fall of free society
Where young and old must pay to breathe
This air of ancient Irishry.

Cast a closed eye
On mind, on breath
Merchant, pass by.

SAMurphy

To Ireland, with love.

I
In the half-light, he stands
as farmers might; his
weathered old hands resting
on the loose stone wall.
His frame is smaller than in myth.
A head of white hair that sits
languid atop once broad shoulders
stares vacantly across the
golden valley; drawn by the din
of the distant drums.

In these fields
he fought and died
for the fallen pride
of Ulster, before creeds
of division brought
derision to the villages.
Before the pillage of
genocide painted as famine;
His ancient ghost,
(a slumped silhouette now
barely visible beneath the boughs
of the aged oak), was
a curious child, fishing
with Finnegas for the sacred salmon.

I, too, was a child then
New to every nuance when
I saw him first. His
wind-cracked skin, lips
that craved a quenched thirst
Spoke to me in fits
and bursts in a language
foreign to its own kin,
of a lineage lost
in a war amongst brethren.

'All are equal on this earth
who search not for difference
to find cause. Let he who
fears become isolate. He who
segregates become desolate..'
he paused and
sobbed slow tears.

II
He steadied and, with summoned strength
Proceeded to then speak at length
In tones melodic, more at ease
with me, he waxed now lyrically

'I've slept for many centuries
Beneath the city in the east
To waken only when the pleas
of Ireland in despair increased
Only the horn, with three shrill blasts
Was fit to wake me up at last
The tears I shed I recognise
As realer than this land my eyes
perceive as that as long before
When warriors from this island bore
To Roisin promises of lore
That in her need we would restore
her to her former glory for
her dignity and nothing more.

‘Though restless often were my dreams
The tyrannies of kings and queens
Could never kill the spirit gleaned
That lingers still in hills and streams
Much worse, and that which worries most
Is that we’ve sold, from coast to coast
Our sovereign gains to foreign banks
And with beguiling ‘please’ and ‘thanks’
The citizens in cities danced
To worship gods of circumstance.

'But when they bled our nation dry
And left but never said goodbye
We acted as scorned lovers shamed
Who sought to squarely pass the blame
We shunned accountability;
A victim culture woe-is-me
turned farcical plutocracy
That never learned from history.’

III
Across the fields they marched;
Victors enriched by the legacies
of battle. With sashes draped
across straight backs, bowler
hatted Chaplins that cut a calm
comedy from the chaos of self.

‘Man cannot rise
against what he cannot see.’
He fixed his eyes on me;
a frail freckled child whose eyes,
bluer than the midday skies,
turned pale and grey before they cried
‘We were born under the same tree
But those who live in chains cannot die free.’

I, who knew no history
had marvelled in the mastery
of the piper's pride. The oranges;
the purples. Every lodge a float
in a sea of colour. Who sees
now the deeper red
in the promise of bloodshed
Was wiser then; an ageless
figment of a life ahead.

From his face he wiped
the well of all
wisdom. His thumb
scarred by the burst blister
where the salmon burned.


SM '10

SAMurphy

just wanted to tidy things up a bit from earlier threads and keep pieces in the one thread, apologies for the reposting, will have more up in the next few days.

cucbuc

That's a pretty impressive poem. Personally, though, I don't think the last 3 lines add anything, as you have already mentioned Yeats and given him a couple of nods- to paraphrase his headstone words at the end almost makes it less your own. I think it stands better without it, anyway, is what Im saying. Eitherway, though, its a good poem in my opinion. I know this also because normally if I see one that long I fast forward( Sky+ has ruined me.:D) but it was worth reading in full.

SAMurphy

In quiet repose
The flowers bloom in patterns
A wise man follows.

SAMurphy

At the cliffs of Classiebawn
I have seen you in dreams
While the arid autumn leaves
leave their trees & drift
beneath the Celtic sun of a
June-dayed October,
Falling on the beach at Mullaghmore,
Where last we walked
hand in hand in life.

The ocean was unchanged;
Still feeding on the coarse-rock
coughed up by disquieted time
Drinking from the fountain
of its own immeasurable womb
Breathing as the moon's disciple.

Ours was the island
latent in the lakes
of Plato's paradise
Buried beneath the
hurried highways of
the tiger's tomb.

You left before fate
had a chance to intervene
for the greyer-green
depths of the queen's majesty
In silence, I licked wounds
that wouldn't heal-

Craved the unconscious
Woke with memory's loss
etched in the empty echoes
of a hollow routine
Cried wolf as the
lions closed in for the kill.

I walked fields to feel
the unplundered pasture
of the past
Where the shades bathed in shadows
The sun's eyes dare not go.

I see you still, a perfect stitch
In time's tattered blanket
Sacrificed as innocence
To the impenetrable depths
of age.

I must leave you in those by-gone days
In the sunset's silhouette
of the ocean;
Elegant,
Infinite,
Unchanged.