Hammering their heads
into the land,
their eyes are cruel
and meat is bland.
With fleshy trilbies
that love to roast,
nothing is as cheap
as a chicken's ghost...
@Steven Francis poems 2010
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
Friday 21 May 2010
I Love Wexford in Ireland
I love this headline
with its phonetic studs,
or rather
the words in the title -
they bounce off each other
like the Mississippi
on a page,
knocking every letter
five herons amongst lillies.
It stands TITLED
bolder than a honeybee -
iron girded towers
solid as tin tacs
on a nun's habit,
dead like moles in snow.
I Love Wexford in Ireland
stilted in mastery -
if only real lands
were bolted as carefully.
Soberly lined and beacon topped
as crafted as a cobweb lane,
bullet headed in frothy reefs.
I Love
Love Wexford,
Wexford in Ireland
Wexford Loves in Ireland...
@Steven Francis poems 2010
with its phonetic studs,
or rather
the words in the title -
they bounce off each other
like the Mississippi
on a page,
knocking every letter
five herons amongst lillies.
It stands TITLED
bolder than a honeybee -
iron girded towers
solid as tin tacs
on a nun's habit,
dead like moles in snow.
I Love Wexford in Ireland
stilted in mastery -
if only real lands
were bolted as carefully.
Soberly lined and beacon topped
as crafted as a cobweb lane,
bullet headed in frothy reefs.
I Love
Love Wexford,
Wexford in Ireland
Wexford Loves in Ireland...
@Steven Francis poems 2010
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