Echoes & Other Poems

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.
Digging by Seamus Heaney


 
It’s been a bad week for poetry in that the Nobel prize winning poet Seamus Heaney passed away. It’s been often quoted in the hours since his death, but Digging is a poem that appeals to all writers, I think. So, I thought I’d kick off this blog post with that before giving you the three poems I have for you today. I can’t claim that they’re as good as Heaney’s, but hopefully you’ll enjoy them nonetheless.
 

Echoes

The golden fan on my pillow.
The rise and fall of the sheet.
The gentle warmth on my chest.
The severe chill on my feet.

The kiss on the shoulder.
The whisper in the ear.
All these things are missing,
Like my heart when you’re not here.
 

Back In Time

I know we’re not really
speaking any longer
but I’m reading the book you bought me
and I’m enjoying it.

I thought the you that bought it
would like to know.
So I’m sending this note
and an apology
back in time.
 

Naked Lunch

I was drunk,
but that wasn’t unusual when you were there.
You were like a glass of champagne:
bubbly, exquisite,
and going straight to my heart.

I was drunk,
and I cooked you dinner of a sort.
A romantic gesture hidden by your boyfriend
who was upstairs
and my fear of saying anything I shouldn’t.

I was drunk,
but he was drunker, neglecting you.
I nourished you and stupidly told myself not to kiss you
under any circumstances.
Everyone’s a fool when they’re drunk.

Comments
6 Responses to “Echoes & Other Poems”
  1. johncoyote says:

    Thank you for the amazing poetry. We must remember the great Poet.

  2. Mike says:

    I enjoyed your trifecta – though I couldn’t find the connection to Burroughs that Naked Lunch promised. Apt homage to Heaney.

    • Nick says:

      Thanks, Mike. I quite often borrow titles from well known phrases, especially if there’s a chance to play with what they mean. I don’t usually borrow titles for titles, but I couldn’t resist: it was too perfect. Turning the nudity away from the lunch but to the person eating – that feeling of being exposed and vulnerable, coupled with lust for a fellow diner, it was too much to pass up. So, it’s more of a nod to Burroughs than a specific set up.
      Nick

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