That summer’s more than fifty years ago

but all the memories are vivid still

of happy times spent working on a farm

on Ireland’s coast; long hours spent making hay

with scythes and pitchforks, scorching ‘neath the sun.

There was a day with not a cloud in sight

and yet we saw a shadow on the sea.

A massive shoal the farmer said, and so

we left our tools and headed for the sh...

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The loudest silence I have ever heard,

and dark, so black I hardly see the night.

No moon, and just a smattering of stars

whose ghostly glimmer casts a shimmered shade

among the trees, where night-birds sound their cry.

A rustle in the ferns belies the breeze

that barely moves the leaves, and signals prey

that prey themselves, and so the chain endures.

For I, who spurn...

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Welcome to the season of excess,

When insincerity displays a mask,

A false façade to hide the public face,

Disguising with a smile revulsion’s rage.

This travesty of tolerance and care,

That lasts but for the briefest tract of time,

Discarded when the fateful day has passed,

Resuming the routine of disregard.

A festival of friendship and goodwill,

Concealing the percepti...

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