Bernard Kennedy Poems

What does a woman want?
That was the question, like,
to be or not to be.
From where and quo vadis?
...

The word is the thing, and
this word redemption reintroduces
the lost one, homeless and begging.
a word that makes
...

From my eyrie, my high up, Eyup eyrie,
at Ladies Brae in Skreen,
at my hermitage, Patrick to Tara,
I look down to Sligo Bay.
...

in libraries and book stores silence is all
it leads to inner contemplation and knowing
thyself and be true. It was Socrates that line.
now leading lower case lives, no loud voice,
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Easter brings up for me that old
medieval hymn about
'now the green blade riseth,
out of the buried grain'.
...

Cry out once more,
Antigone, cry out,
until the sentence is lifted,
the sentence that keeps the feminine,
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From main roads through the pass
and there, beneath,
as if a mountain gate over
a valley, lake or bay
...

I met a traveller from an antique land,
and saw beneath that turbaned head
not a visitor but brother too,
though lineage was but black and white.
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A quiet pathway off the drive, a rustle
then again, and bushy tails are swaying, playing and searching.
Grey, as lifting a goblet, the hands
are raised, in search, and eyes dart, either way,
...