Colm Keenan Poems

As grey clouds of mosaic glide into eve,
Rickets of light beam through.
A bird flies by
This darkening sky;
...

Sometimes I scrutinize this bedsit:
shoes and runners pointing in different directions on floor;
red jacket strewn across arm of sofa;
an unmade bed, the sheets tossed about and ruffled from torturous sleep;
...

The wheels of the trolley squeak.
Her large green suitcase is lopsided,
And those on top are stuck with the trend.
...

Four fields to be one
and digger still away
from filling in pitfalls
razing all obstacles
...

The Italian said:

We used to play football in our neighbourhood in Mortara.
It was a little square of gravel next to the street.
...

I saw it in the pool,
wings and legs wriggling in the meniscus
like some sort of prey tangled in transparent silk,
features of a wasp,
...

A veces escrudiño este estudio:
los zapatos y zapatillas esparcidos en direcciones diferentes en el suelo;
una chaqueta roja tirada en el brazo del sofá;
una cama sin hacer, las sábanas volteadas y arrugadas por el sueño torturado;
...

The world is one big show of persuasion.
People try to convince each other at every turn.
Some animals exhibit their teeth;
others stamp a hoof or trail it through the dust;
...

My head was full of absurdities.
A string of gaping contradictions was my will.
I forgot for a second that birds existed.
And then I saw one -
...

I think one should dedicate some time each week to thinking, even just an hour.
It sounds quite logical.
But who amongst us remembers the last time they sat down and thought, purposely thought?
...