Watering The Roses Poem by Dónall Dempsey

We visiting
the vicar & his wife

both so:
'nice! '

We 3
perched upon

the edge of a comfy chintz setee

as we await
him to grace us
with his presence.

Apparaently he's
in Heaven
in his garden

tending his prize
roses.

'Do you know anything
of roses, Mr. Dempsey? '

she enquires
hardly moving her porcelain mouth.

I admit
my ignorance

& we all gaze into the glorious
visita of rose upon rose

as if this indeed was
rose heaven

when suddenly
the vicar's presence

is made all
too aware to
us

as he waters
his precious roses

with something
in his hand

that is not
a watering can.

You later admitted
you had never seen)

a vicar
so well hung

- how many vicars have you known? -

& felt a little twang
of envy towards
his missus.

His wife
still without
moving her
porcelain mouth

enquires postively
politely:

'More tea...
...anyone? '


*******

Just Like That Bird

The stolen kiss
in the vicar's rose garden

when we were left
all alone

when he went to write
Sunday's sermon

('I hope that you...don't mind? ')

And an invisible bird
turned all the world
into song.

And his wife smiling: 'I hope
you don't mind if I...answer the phone? '

Her laughter
like fine bone china

tinkling from
another room.

That stolen kiss
was like you took each disc
from my back bone

(my Kundalini shivered)

cleaned and polished
each one 'til they shone

& put it back again
into my spinal colum

& the I
of me

glowed
into sheer elation

taking my skull
in your delicate fingertips

tidying my thoughts
up a bit

tighting the screw that
was loose
(you always knew)

& placed
it just so

(I almost didn't know
my self)

...'til it(& I) were perfect

just as the footfall
of the vicar's wife

appeared & apologised
enquired

(as if the world
turned on tea)

'More tea
...anyone? '

And we said: 'No thank you! '
'And we think we ought to be going! '

I still
dazed
(amazed)

at that kiss

turning

the world into song

just like that bird!