MORE "A"s

Apple of  Weeping Eyes.

Down beside the dark, deep water

          just beyond old Kavanagh's seat,

walks a mother's wayward daughter,

          heels clickity-clacking towards her beat.

Her last trick had only bought her

          enough to keep just this night sweet

and the respite, she had fought for

          would soon end with whom she'd meet.

For the dragon, that had caught her,

          while she chased its foil-run heat,

had inexorably brought her

          to this dappled, leaf-shade street

and the twisted mind that stalked her,

          stole the traces of her feet

'til the act  for which he'd sought her

          left her dying at his feet.

Just a girl, like any other;

          the apple of wet, weeping eyes.

bejewelled child to some poor mother,

          now left  wailing to the skies.

Her bright dreams had all been smothered

          under opiated highs,

gifts, at first, from  wasted lovers,

          with addictions ill-disguised.

But the pain that must have shoved her

          down this pathway, she despised,

we must not leave undiscovered,

          while we preach and moralise.

Her sad death has brought a shudder

          to so many cosy lives,

now my fears are for the others,

          prey to  after midnight knives.

© BRENDAN HICKEY 1998

Arrival Lines.

The singer's operetta style,

unfortunately grated,

so new converts to Renvyle,

(who'd previously been sated

by what filled each worthwhile mile),

felt dis-anticipated,

and climbed in single file

 .......towards slumber, fresh air weighted

© B.Hickey 1993

Ashram-Induced  Aloneness.

sssssssssssssssssssssssss

Alone,  in  a  king-like  way,

through  quartered  desert  stay,

uttering  middle-eastern  mountain  moans,

because of  flaccid  failing  telephones.

Until  a  silent scream  broke

the  perfect parqueted  calm.

Lithe writhing with  each  stylish  eyelash  stroke

lashing wild  tattoos  on  displayed   palms.

This  underpractised  preaching,

from  a  yashmak'd  netherworld 

is  like  a  sky-lark  feather  hurled

at armour-plated teachings.

(c) B. Hickey 1988

 

"A"s (1)

Abandoned Avenger

*************************

An abandoned Avenger
a crashed car,
caressed by fingers,
green and wet,
we passed on a boithrin,
seafoam flecked underfoot.

A gaping pail,
with toothless mouth, rockfull,
lay white and all alone,
by lichen-speckled stones,
‘til rain-soft hands
delighted in their find.

A sea-twisted twig
and flowers, long unseen
now fill that swinging hole,
as laughing lovers stroll
through carefree cows
on their way
to a new-felt home


© B. HICKEY 1985


Almerian Street.

*******************************

When straight to hell

seemed not the worst

of scorching Spain,

Rioja would quell

that desert thirst,

as dayfail came

and all felt well,

as streets were burst

by costumed train

because when we fell,

we  weren't the first

to play that game.



© B. HICKEY 1985

Amorous Mis-Casting.
***********************



Now, you've bubbled

to the surface

of new life,

after self-casting

into the black, cleansing abyss.

That extreme,

passionate kiss

brought ever-lasting

this life guilt;

poisoning the roots

of the family tree,

on which you'd built

your imaginary

house of oneness.



Always troubled,

fidgety nervous;

this sweet flight,

life flash-pasting,

brings freedom,

you wrongly missed.

Too vodka'd to resist

amorous mis-casting

and liquids spilt

nourish bitter fruits

on the family tree,

on which you'd built

your imaginary

house of oneness.



© B. HICKEY 1996