poem

November Morning, Dublin

Granite cobbles slick with grime and grease.
Worn smooth by centuries of the passing masses.
Stacked staggered, haphazard.
They slacken our pace as we pass.
The morning song struggles, choked by the fog and fumes in a watery sky.
It echoes sharp across the still surface of the Liffey as she passes slow,
No hurry yet to greet the sea.
She is far from the green hills of her youth as she wends her way in silence
Among a labyrinth of crumbling red brick,
Tarnished with the soot of commerce And the bile of industry.

The people scurry, eyes to the ground,
Dodging their ways along the pavements, the crossings and the bridges.
A city of a million souls and not one yet connected.
The monotonous clack of steel wheel on track as the railway ferries countless more from hinter to heartland,
Their spines bent deep against the weight of life,
Their hearts turned inwards from reality.
(C) Copyright
Stephen A. Duffy – 2015

Stolen Day

That light will never shine again.

Not those beams from that fleeting instant.

The breath of that breeze has long since passed.

Inhaled, exhaled.

Taking a part of the soul, taking the memory.

A lost and stolen day

Burned white by the heat of a faded sun.

Smothered beneath the weight of eternity.

© Copyright Stephen Duffy 2015

Puddled Pavement

It is just a puddled pavement,

Trammelled, beat and pummelled.

A thousand footsteps, hapless in direction

Aimless in their course.

And yet, there was a life lived there.

It is just a puddled pavement,

But adventure played out there.

First steps fell, echoing now only in memory.

Grainy scenes bleached into time,

Their story bleeds like the ink on wet,

Discarded newspapers.

Scuffed and torn by the mindless traipse of soles.

It is just a puddled pavement,

But it was once so much more.

Life played out there.

© Stephen Duffy 2015

Rioja and Lies

You told me you loved me.
We watched the Plough rise high over the bay.
The Milky Way rose too.

A broken spine of stars,
Shattered to oblivion on the treacle dark waters of the bay.
You told me you loved me,
We listened to the Tenor,
Lost eternal in the honeyed velvet of his voice.
You told me you loved me.
The red wine left a stain on your lips…
As did your lies.

(C) SD 2014

Kriti

The heaving Aegean whispers soft,

Beneath the honey soaked Grecian moon.

Our dreams on clouds were held aloft,

We were exiled all too soon.

Ancient island etched on my heart,

Your caressing warm waters calm.

Ancient ruins smothered in the dark,

A simple dream held in my palm.

Your vibrant art imprisoned my eyes,

Your history, it conquered my mind.

To there eternal my dreams shall fly,

For their serenity to find.

 

© Stephen Duffy 2001

Feigned Love

Letters unread on a dust pile,

Fading photos collect on the sill.

The dried stains of dead tear drops

And the old soul still waiting to be filled.

 

A house that now lies empty.

Musty and silent its’ cold halls,

And there the haunting memory of

Music and words.

Though to the soul no longer it calls.

 

The desolation of dawn with no sunrise

To accompany the memories held there.

A promise of love entwined in a kiss,

The annals of heartache laid bare.

 

© Copyright Stephen Duffy 1997

Summertime Trilogy – Part One

I searched the heavens over

With my peering looking glass,

To find a special beauty

Concealed within the stars.

 

A vision to astound me,

To make me feel at home.

A spectacle to come and comfort

When I find myself alone.

 

Although, right there in the shadows

Wrapped in satin veils

A lone star shone before me,

Its bluish light so pale.

 

Like a comet in the summer sky

She flew with scorching tails,

To light the unlit darkness

When all the heavens fail.

 

She flew like burning stardust

Like a wonder never seen,

Exploding in the summer sky

In a mass of blue and green.

 

She calmed the yellow sunrise

To scorch the tepid sea.

She wandered like the silver moon

Across the skies to me.

© Copyright Stephen Duffy 1995

Summertime Trilogy – Part Two

Like the Autumn

I wish to fall upon you,

Like the curling of the leaves.

To run my fingers through your hair

Like Autumn winds through the sheaves.

So that when Autumn comes to take you

In a flood of bronze and gold.

I may whisper thoughts unspoken

And say words which stay untold.

If you come to greet me

Like a song across the waves,

I’ll run out to meet you

Like leaping, scorching  flames.

© Copyright Stephen Duffy 1995

Looking Out At Christmas From Dunphy’s Bar

 

Christmas has descended with frost and winter cheer,

We peep furtively from our cosy cocoon,

To watch the writhing of a dying year.

White floats on black,

A cool warmth in the glass.

As winters’ cold minutes

They silently pass.

Constellations drip from the lampposts,

Forests now hang from the walls.

The crimson sun is swallowed whole,

As winters’ dark night, it falls.

© S. Duffy 2002