To A Dead Fox

You should be singing at the moon

Serenading your vixen lover

Not cast aside like jetsam

White teeth frozen forever

Snarling helpless at the inexorable

Fume and rumble of morning traffic.

In the noise and bristling heat

You are a bronze illumination

The coil of your neat body and delicate feet

Like an intricate swirling beast

Emblazoning the word in antique psalter.

You etch this morning in flame

Herald this very day a glorious day

Suspended in the move and flux

Of all the every days

In your stillness

I see graceful running

In your silence

I hear joyful singing

In your death

A sermon for life and living.

I will sing at the moon

Sing to your vixen lover

Because your song is in me

Now and forever.

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Love Reigns

Woman with a Parrot by Eugene Delacroix


When windows rattle in the rain
When grey winds shriek through trembling door
When gloom would be your chatelaine
Go find redemption in your paramour.

When grey winds shriek through trembling door
This is no time for solitude
Go find redemption in your paramour
Seek warmth in love’s sweet pulcritude

This is no time for solitude
Abandon all to your lover
Seek warmth in love’s sweet pulcritude
In wind and rain you will discover

Abandon all to your lover
A healing balm and blessed potion
In wind and rain you will discover
Submerged in loves warm sultry ocean.

A healing balm and blessed potion
Caress your lover,every portion
Submerged in loves warm sultry ocean
Close the blinds and draw the curtain.

Caress your lover every portion
Explore her north and sunny south
Close the blinds and draw the curtain
Taste the sunshine of her mouth.

Explore her north and sunny south
Her gentle hills and fragrant valleys
Taste the sunshine of her mouth
Pluck the roses and the lillies.

Her gentle hills and fragrant valleys
Languish there and do not hurry
Pluck the roses and the lillies
Vanquish sadness, gloom and worry.

Lanquish there and do not hurry
When windows rattle in the rain
Vanquish sadness, gloom and worry
When gloom would be your chatelaine.

© Dermot McCabe

This poem is written in the form of a pantuom

 

Quinsboro Road April Morning

Quinsboro Road -- Bray, Co. Wicklow

Quinsboro Road bristled with morning light

Dazzling concrete paths, street, walls, windows and doors

Were all singing and cheering, people were completely ignored.

The street tapped the soles of my feet and called up to me

Hey man, dance its party time, get with it, let yourself go

Brilliant I said, but what’s the occasion, a wedding or a feast.

No occasion, we do this every morning, thought we’d let you know!

Shop windows were flirting with the sun, inviting him to come

In and then rejecting him, but he played the game and tried

Every one, what fun, sometimes he lost, sometimes he won.

The lampposts were all marching up and down shouting Hey

You paths there, cool it, stay off the street, keep in line.

The paths ignored them and continued running up and down

This is our town they shouted we’ll do what we damn well like.

A Georgian door was singing 0 Sole Mio, pure tenor backed

By a quartet of Georgian windows that joined in the chorus.

Christ he’s just as good a Jussi Bjorling I remarked to a cherry tree

That was crying it’s petals off in a well heeled garden. Pretty lady

Why? She blushed and said ‘for love for joy’. Don’t mind me

I’m so happy, it happens every time he sings, he really knows

How to pull my strings. Go for it I called to the Georgian halldoor

You’ve got it, flaunt it, they’ll come begging for more. His notes

Soared clean and sweet in the sparkling air, I walked on and I

Could hear a magnolia singing ‘One Fine Day’ so exquisitely and I

Like the Cherry Tree cried for pure love and joy, don’t mind me

I said, I’m just a boy, who wants to let it all hang loose, who wants

To know the tender pain of something lost, some sweet pale

Memories from the past, don’t mind me, these tears won’t last.

Two dustbins, neat, on wheels, a bus stop and a wrought iron gate

Were really rocking it and it seemed the whole street was

Gathering round to hear these cool dudes, boy what a sound.

The bus stop played the double base, the gate was on the drums

One bin played sax and the other, how he sang, let it rip, till

Everyone was dancin’ and wow when he flipped head over heels

And ended with the splits, the street just went crazy and screamed

More! More! And I could still hear the beat as I moved on towards

The railway crossing, down to the sea where the waves were wavin’

Up at me. I waited at the crossing while the DART whistled by

I’m off to Howth she laughed, hate to leave the party but hey

I’ll be back this afternoon and I’ll see you all then, the street said

Go baby, we’ll be rockin’ here till ten. The gate lifted and I made for

The sea,. It said rest your bones brother, we’ll play some sweet harmony

I lay on the beech and let it roll over me, over this brilliant day

On the Quinsboro Road when I walked down to the dancing sea.

© Dermot McCabe

I was feeling pretty good when I wrote this poem. It was one of those bright sunny mornings in April when everything seemmed alive and exuberant. I was footloose with nothing to do but enjoy  the inconsequential magic of ordinary things in an ordinary town.

 

Books

 I am captain here

Passenger and crew.

I sail strange oceans

Land-locked, I construe

The explorations of the master

Mariners of inner space,

Their cartography of words

I trace.

I am captain here

I navigate through storm

Braced against the whip

And sting of hail

I taunt the wind

The raging gale.

I sail into the teeth

Of Winter,

Shout for joy,

For pain.

I defy fear.

This is my ship

My journey

I am captain here.