Constant of Why We Don’t Go
Going home
Too many memories,
Washing through the mind,
A pin prick of pain
In the temporal lobe,
Constant.
Happiness to look forward to,
Smiles, hellos, hugs.
Old demons, new ghosts,
Pin prick becomes a small hammer,
Thud,
Constant.
Anger, Love and Hate,
The holy trinity
Of emotion,
The nod of a head,
The narrowing of eyes,
A kiss like a fist to the mouth,
Whack,
Constant.
Still going there,
There is no peace, and no quiet,
No denying it’s time to go,
Unfurl yourself and go,
Go, go, go…
4 comments:
Great writing Love the poetry
We need more like the Vials to root the parochialism that stalks the land... My sister worked for Dr Vivian in An Foras Taluntas.... I've met Derek your brother and we had a few pints on night in the local hotel, interesting discussion on environmental issues, genuine, and a poet as well..
Err Sorry meant to say root out the parochialism....
Ian - just saw this comment now...about a year late in responding. Derek is some fella. I started a new blog whiskeyinthewild.blogspot
I lost access to this blog during my divorce!
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