Patrick William Kavanagh Poems

Please don't lie so still, so silent and so cold,
I told you love was just a game to pass the lonely times,
We laughed and played and hugged and kissed, and made up silly rhymes
We built a world of smoke and dreams and moonlit walks,
...

The gentle beating of you silken wings,
Calms my mind and lets my spirit soar,
It takes me to a place of never-ending spring,
Where Beauty Shines like Golden Light.
...

A kiss is bitter-sweet.
Lips touching,
tender feelings, hearts that miss a beat,
But underneath the chasm waits,
...

The first time we met, was just the sweetest time,
Eyers locked in naked glances,
Both prepared to take our chances,
Heart to heart and mind to mind,
...

May angels watch you as you sleep,
The gentle beating of their wings caress your happy dreams.
May you grow up strong and proud and find the path that leads you to your deepest wish,
and may that wish be all that it can be, and all it ever seemed.
...

The scratching on the kitchen door, the tapping on the window pane,
The sound of scuffling in the yard, The footsteps running down the lane,
It must be children at their pranks, you close your book and smile and shake your head,
It's almost midnight, time to snuff the candle out and rest your weary head.
...

I watch them fly,
Biting wind brings streaming tears to red-rimmed eyes,
Air so cold, it creeps into the bones and chills the very soul,
Where will they go,
...

Poppies with their flowers of bloody hue,
Ancient roses, red and fragrant, laced with sparkling dew,
Lilies, tall and stately, with their funeral pall,
Daffodils, so bright and gay and violets with their vibrant blue,
...

He stands there now, a distant figure,
grey fur blending with the evening gloom.
I stand here by my cabin window, just as still as he,
and wonder if he sees me too, despite the darkness of the room.
...

What a web the little folk can weave,
For when this weary life has grown too glum.
The faeries help us leave help us leave,
to find a land where sorrow has no sway.
Wearily I sat in mournful mood, in the quiet garden, where for so long the ancient pergola had stood.
...