Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

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Now 65, having lived my life entirely dissident, vasectomised, refusing to be employed, married, and to have anything to do with 'normality', I divide my State-Pensioned time between beautiful, remote, rural Northern Ireland and a beautiful mediæval village in the Aveyron Gorges of south-west France. I also write poems in French: http: //

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Comments about Anthony Weir

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  • Rookie Auban Saint-antonin (10/1/2012 6:13:00 AM)

    Some of these poems are mind-altering - and there are over 150 you can download free from this website!

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Best Poem of Anthony Weir

'The Scent Of These Armpits Is An Aroma Finer Than Prayer' (Walt Whitman)

I dreamed.
I woke in tenderness.
I dreamed of tenderness
as a ripe plum squirting
down my beard – tenderness
that turned to tide
which flowed through both of us
and in which we floated
through our cuddle-space
wherein our snug adhesion
the unseen ballet of our tongues
the breath shared by each other's lungs
were part of an epiphanic lace
of delicate and gorgeous things
that we in sacred, shared
humility presented to each other
as sweet kings –
and the smiling
exuberantly-bearded sun
was his
life-giving face.

Read the full of 'The Scent Of These Armpits Is An Aroma Finer Than Prayer' (Walt Whitman) Updates

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