niall gormley
niall gormley Poems
Jack Fry may well have been
A fire-boy on a tall ship.
Sailing the world
He'd carry buckets of soup
...
The ocean is not quiet
But ever ringing bass and tenor.
And banging and clatterring down on the rocks
It's booming fortissimo deep in in its maw
...
Seven wishes for your morning.
Seven spring to feed your well.
Seven echoes of you calling me;
I just can't tell.
...
1,000 angels dribbling
whiskey
From their tired mouths
Like a thousand hallucinations
...
The Best Poem Of niall gormley
My Grandfather's Ghost.
Jack Fry may well have been
A fire-boy on a tall ship.
Sailing the world
He'd carry buckets of soup
To the tall men with their large hands.
Laughing loud they'd hold him high
As he sought the wide horizons.
Ah, Jack Fry
And his forgotten soup.
Sea.
Surf.
Sea.
Sand.
(Back here in the city
I have left the ocean
For the long shore.
Now my horizons are brown paper bags
And to look at me you'd think
Thin sticks
Are my only food.)
My grandfather's ghost haunts me -
for I knew his daughter you know.
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4/26/2024 11:04:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
