Thursday, March 30, 2017

Promise

I was woken by a fire
the telephone cable stretched against the night sky
a dancing blaze of orange
the sound of so many conversations chattering in the flames
whispers of love
laughter and tears
decisions for sofas and items for dinner
A demarcation line between then and now
your entrance ritualised, brighter than the morning sun to come




Sunday, March 5, 2017

Kill Your Darlings - Poetry Film Part 2

My new poetry film!!!

Woo Hoo!

I'm so excited and proud of myself    

I just made my OWN poetry film! It's the long awaited Part 2 to my Kill Your Darlings trilogy!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPWbjYiEnU4&list=PLIRtWsYGHawMK4o4UjqiCDTz-1T56lTw9&index=16

Please go see my efforts and let me know your thoughts!   


If anyone would like to collaborate with me to make Part 3 then please let me know!


If you never saw Part 1 or want to re-view then you can grab the link here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0ZDQapSSAg&list=PLC1E8ACDD79A0BC9E&feature=share 


And - the entire text for the complete work is here:
http://lindaclearypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/10/kill-your-darlings.html

Thanks for watching and reading!  Linda

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

The Absurd

The weather report says there is sunshine
as I look at the grey sky and wind ravaged trees
whilst reading online posts of people trying to outguess the strategists
who have already known the lines of thought they would take
and prepared for it
All my friends, even the insular ones, the neurotics and depressives
are doing more than me
and I wonder if life's pulse is set on a timer for each of us
a sudden citrus burst with the inevitable analogies before and after
and here I am
sitting in my chair, awaiting a delivery of a chair
though of course the courier cannot give me a defined time

 

Saturday, January 28, 2017

The Sea Ramble

Peter strolled along the sea front and thought about the indisputable facts; but as the tide swelled and turned he soon lost his metallic edge. Were the set of events laid out in his mind, and the established conclusion of that trajectory, truly facts? Or were permutations possible? Indeed was it not that fiction was the gold in the cracks, giving rich story where nothing lay? He thought about his half sister; whom he had never met and knew very little about; what was she doing, how was she living her life and where? Was she even still alive? Had she ever existed in reality or had the one statement of her existence been a conjuring by his mother – using the fact of her as an emotional weapon against the rosy tinted image of his absent father held in his boyhood mind? He recalled that one time he met his father; the short walk they'd taken across the field in Tuam. His father did not speak until they saw a small group of horses standing by a tree and then he had pointed into the mid distance and exclaimed that it was raining on the other side of the field – and how for a moment they were held in another space and time. Another reality. A charm. And how they had walked back to the family smallholding, silent but for their breathing and then once back his father had pressed a piece of gold into his hand before moving away down the hall. The only thing his father ever gave him. His mind moved on and he thought about the woman in the next street to his whom everyone talked ill of. Joan loved a man called John but John had killed a woman and was serving life in some prison somewhere. Was Joan negating the facts surrounding this man, to use the phrase 'in spite of' or did she not even perceive the facts as truth? What were Joan's set of facts? Peter walked on, muttering in his mind of how the Buddhists say there is no truth.

Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Union


 -------------------

That time before the full darkness of night
when the shadows of the trees are almost too much
reaching too far
intense as an ecstasy

I closed my eyes and breathed in, in
and when I looked again there were the stars

Did you know that light is pure love

Your face in the moonlight

a heavenly caress

And all the world, and all the worlds
Come in beauty
and reach out to kiss

-------------------


The poem was written as a response to this video; especially the light formations within it which inspired me greatly: https://youtu.be/UfcAVejslrU





 

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Break In

You wake on the sofa
and find the garden doors are open
a mouth to the black night

Soiled footprints on the floor
have you forgotten your waking actions
no, this was not you

He has been here
watching you
planting a disturbance for your mind

Some call this Love
some call for help
some clean up and lock the doors, fast







Sunday, October 23, 2016

Communion

The morning stretches coldly
an earth aching for tenderness
the sky reaching away
and even the birds are hidden
silently accepting the autumn's advance

After all that passion
how quickly the leaves fall from the trees
as grace falling from grace
the sudden surrender to the change
an adherence to the present

The tree says, 'Do you even know my name?'
And you realise your own stupor
in love with its beauty
yet without enquiry
Communion with no question

I shall be as the tree
and let go of my covering
All that I was has no use
All that matters is to be
this conduit between earth and sky