Frank Daub Poet Free verse

I'm For Stopping, Brendan's Not

A poem by Frank Daub


I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The sea is just down there.
I am anxious for the sight
of stone turned to bread by the wash
of foam and the jetting of the salt water.

I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The spiraling gulls
are sun lighted bright in their play
above the sand,
their startling dive
toward the sea is brief
in time and sight.

I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The freedom of the coast
was eight hundred years
at taking.
One bold county man’s toast
to the awakening water
baptizes the youth
who have forgotten Eire for other lovers.

I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
I haven’t heard the all
of every song
or the rise and fall
and rise of every story
that set a mother’s son
free to calculate a career.

I stand for stopping; Brendan says, “too late.”
I want to stay
where the past has gone,
old rebel cries and songs.

Yet,
it’s Brendan through the gate,
and gone
and done
and through with old.

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Alison A Smith nee Howarth August 21, 2026 at 11:30 PM A reflective, quietly poignant poem about the pull between pausing for heritage and being carried onward by modern life. The refrain lends the piece a persuasive rhythm, while the Irish coast and its remembered songs become a moving emblem of history that one speaker longs to keep close.❤️