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Kevin Corcoran Poem
Where will it carry us,
this fragile hour we are living in
this trembling breath of fear?
Is there still a future
beyond the shadow of this moment,
or will tomorrow’s world
slip quietly into silence?
I think not,
for the heart’s hunger for life
still beats its steady drum,
still plants seeds of hope
in the soil of our despair.
And though the air is thick
with confusion and sorrow,
there will come a dawn
when the dark clouds
that now press low upon us
will loosen their grip,
and the sun,
gentle, golden, unafraid,
will spill her warm light
across the earth,
restoring to the weary
the courage to live,
and to the fearful
the will to dream again.
Time will, in its quiet way,
outlast the fear and sorrow
that wrap themselves around us.
Your spring has folded into memory.
Your summers have drifted past.
Autumn has bowed its head in parting.
Now winter’s cold breath
lingers at your neck,
and the seasons fade,
one by one, into stillness.
Yet when you wake each day,
do not wish it away,
life is already too brief.
The sun does not shine
without pause,
yet even the greyest of day
is a gift placed in your hands.
For none can tell
when a sudden wind will rise.
life offers no promises,
only moments.
So, give thanks for each one.
Live deeply.
Love without measure.
Play as though the hour is eternal.
And weave your days
into memories
that will not fade with time
Copyright © Kevin Corcoran | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Kevin Corcoran Poem
Ancient sentinels of the Sperrins.
Litany of Snow and Vows
The Sperrin Mountains rose like ancient sentinels
through drifting snow.
Robins flared across white fields,
tiny garnets quivering in winter’s hush.
In the low kitchen light,
we sliced cucumbers and scallions,
jar lids clicking shut on summer’s green sweetness.
I felt like a wayfarer suspended between the world I had left
and the one I had yet to claim.
They promised me I would be a Dr,
but life got in the way and that stayed a dream.
At dusk, wounds of hope and hesitation bled together
as I dreamed of stethoscopes and midnight wards.
‘Spare me your promises,’ I whispered
to the widening dark,
‘I will choose courage over comfort every time.’
Under soft rain we knelt in the garden,
planting Sambucus seedlings
like vows for a shared tomorrow.
October’s apples tumbled in slow arcs,
their crimson rise echoing our hearts’ quiet yearning.
Pine needles showered us in fragrant green rain.
lilies glowed pale as moonlight,
kniphofia erupted in fiery tongues.
Mornings dawned in smoky ultramarine,
light filtered through invisible lilac
as if the world exhaled a secret.
The moon’s dance faltered each night,
and my pulse found its own rhythm,
untethered and insistent.
Far off, the peaks wore fresh white scarves:
ancient memories carved in ice and time.
I searched for the divine
in the slate-grey face of still water,
tracing my own longing in its surface.
I know these old roads,
overgrown and whispering with grass.
each step a line in the litany of my life.
Copyright © Kevin Corcoran | Year Posted 2025
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