Declan Molloy Poet I do not know?

Winters Garden

Winter garden


I must go into the garden again
to find the limestone and clay
Be waiting by the morning rise
amongst its sleepy decay

but I need no garden to soothe
nor right as would be believed
I need no foot on buried steel
Nor flowers or such conceived

I must paint a canvas filled
with ochre, orange and green
My brush may still hard fabric
As I imagine what I had seen

Or my colours could be dark water
like the rivers of Arcadian deep
Careless what my mind perceives
what it sows or what it reaps

I might write sad tearful verse
words might as hammers fall
Roar and blow like creaking bellows
in the dark of my minds thrall

Or I could sit and watch a while
raise my head close my eyes
Beautiful words nature has spoken
and wonders in earth and sky

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Lin Lane October 24, 2015 at 7:45 AM Oh please do both, Declan! You speak of painting and verse..you are an artist in many senses, and your senses show in your writing, like this lovely poem. so paint scenes of light and dark. Write verses of your tears and laughter. I like your poetry and your name has always been a favorite of mine. Lin Lane October 24, 2015 at 8:22 AM What ever it is you're doing ~ continue doing it. It's worthy of being read. Declan Molloy October 24, 2015 at 8:15 AM thanks for your kind words. I am still new to poetry and even new to writing... I don't know what I'm doing to be honest