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poetry


Patrick Walsh - WAITING[ an ordinary day]

WAITING[ an ordinary day]

We were never the Gandhi line,
Though my grandfather was nicknamed
"The Dandy" ...... an issue for stone-throwing
On country roads ...my mother said.
Yet prayer covered all like dust,
Just as these windows here

Whited,pinkybrown squat[is the devil inside?]
Of the old Vincentians , square out,square-in around
The cricket field view and March hedges like green-puffing.
And below the sleepy city awaits its summer dreams,
Distant car radio sums up the news
To harveynorman and football scorelines.
Somewhere someone dies suddenly,
Colors of a life escape like quarkthings.
Does anyone see existential arks waiting,idling?.

Does anyone know if the captain's masked,
Or the bosun's singing a strange shanty
About Lou Reeds seemingly unending
Cold dark sea / waits for me.me.me.

- patrick walsh
(2004 WORK IN FACETS AND MOONWORT REVIEW

published..author in UK AND IRISH LOCAL ANTHOLOGIES
patrickwalsh100[at]yahoo.co.uk )

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