Tara of Today
Chimneyed roof tops
spreading out before the eyes
burred tongued men seeking
tall stouts in the midst of music
children playing upon the concrete
games of their own device
with scattered cans
littered upon the ground
In the distance
rushing cars chase pedestrians
to the safe shelter
of waiting sidewalks
A man, pack over shoulder
whistles merrily
as he traverses the length
of the dark alleyway.
A couple
A tenement away
exchange angry shouts
as silently their children watch on
The swarms of little ones
packed tightly away for the night
make faces through the windows
at their friends, a window over
Dublin, writer's town
with it's dirt and grit
works it's way under my fingernails
and spills down through my pen
to splash, unbidden
on the page below
A town of dark shadows
and flickering lights
of angered shouts and merry song
Oh! Sweet Paradox
how can you be both
light and dark, angry and merry
with your motor cars
and your red bricked chimneys
out of place
in this land of green hills
Are you writer or mason
or loutish drunk,
cab driver, banker,
or merely out of luck?
or are you more
than the sum of your parts?
an unsolvable puzzle
of a workman's town with a poet's soul.
6/28/92