Miki Byrne Poems

I see the lights a-glitter.
I hear the choir in song.
Children gaze, sparkly-eyed
For Christmas won't be long.
...

By Magic.


I often look to the sky and wonder how
...

Deep inside the hillsides gut,
I see its entrails. Not soft like mine,
nor red with pulsing blood
but made of its own devising.
...

In the church, sunlight slants through coloured saints.
Paints the floor in rainbows. A flower sentry
made by earnest ladies, stands tall by the door, Scents the air
...

Another blue day.
Heat shimmering,
Rising to meet the sky.
Not many days like this.
...

I pass grey buildings where decisions are made.
Notice how the industrial revolution smeared
dark blusher on their ageing cheeks.
My stride carries me down the alleyway.
...

This poet speaks and
Her words slice into me.
Slow and tender like
A silken thread, pulled
...

A brief silhouette stirred
beside the copper-beech.
Fleeting as an eye-blink.
I was unsure of its reality.
...

We sat on the beach.
Backs tucked into hollows.
Scooped out of the peaked dunes.
The fire we had built flickered
...

I left the preparations. The last minute pinning's,
smearing of ghoulish make up. Settling of wigs
and food made grotesque by strange colourings.
I walked down from East Hill House.
...