N'Iron
strife riven island corner, rough hewn by rival visitation
vexed, looking in, looking out, on the edge of places to go
thrang in thrall of other realms, banners furling, batons flung
across seaways, shores and seamless land continuing
beyond the borders and invasions of the mind
volcanic bonfire stump, worn-down mountain clump
drumlin thump, thump, thump, while hills reverberate
caves retreat, cliffs stumble off deep-time plateau
glens cut towards the coast, exposing Goliath's fluted organ
bombs ignite, bottles shatter, stones clatter, slogans shout
spirits drain, coloured pavements fade, granite grinds on inspiration
troubles struggle, slow-moving sediment, river sludge
meandering down around to glacial lough and semi-fjord
drunk darkly under misty linen cloud, hope raised in expectation
but dashed, gutter-sniped by big eejits with little thoughts
town and village steeped in steeples, buildings ugly grey
proud city centre, contradictions, museum to a sinking boat
rows of homes hemmed in by battle-line, marching counterpoint
kids abused by faith of elders, fear of other tribes, divisions dense
men and women on a hill, still seeking higher ground
mural mural on the wall, defiant cries from yesteryear
balaclava land, flaunted flags, men with arms and caps of knee
haunted eyes behind para-masks, they strut and swagger
tat for tit and tit for tat, rasp of roll and bacon bap
buck alec's cat with muscled dogs sniffing round and smelling rat
vermin gathers, hate hurtling from the last ditch of derision
new blood enriches, old clots dissolving within the arterial tide of now
incoherent villains vanquished by youth unscarred and uncowed
heroes arrive with undertone of punk and grumpy song-cycle genius
the sport of limb, the gift of gab, global giants of rhyme and verse
thorny countryside, wee stone walls, earth, sand and bog
shallow secrets still abide, skulking cursed 'neath a skudding sky
truth oozing from the wounds of revenge and retribution
slow sullied justice in the telling, stories of dire humanity
grief soothed by mournful refrain and some fiery craic, of course!
as waves crash on, cakes 'will' be baked and walls 'will' crumble
then watch our children's children elevate on bright shafts of sunlight
their science and their art building cool causeways to the stars
maybe then, someone will write in flashing laser along the mountainside
" the man from del-monte always says 'yes' to a pint of the dark stuff "
Copyright © Ian Love | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment