Martin Swords Poems

We are the stuff of stars.
A star for each of us
hides in a starry sky.
There’s one,
shooting, blazing,
...

She is a Welcome Home
A room full of people.
She is an egg neatly broken
A Roulade sweetly rolled.
...

Where words and wisdom
Grow on trees
Rich ripe ready words
Falling on paper
...

I wandered lonely as a prayer
Along the monks path by the Glendasan
When all at once around a rocky bend
I saw a sight afloat to make me take a stand
...

Dark

Clock
...

Who was to know?
Who could have foretold
the normal lives
where tragedy enfolds.
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Many’s the fainthearted
Full of fear and fright
Guided from dark danger
By the calling bell and light
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‘Birkenau’ – the Birch Wood.
Gathered among the beautiful birches
outside Auschwitz – Birkenau
the Chosen People waited, hoping in vain.
...

Half Past Midnight Grafton Street
Filling time with only
French fries and a coffee
I’m sat with the lost and lonely
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Pat told stories of old times, living in digs
in Athy, working on the roofin’ for aul’ Hammond.
Me with my booklearning piped up
“I heard of Athy,
...