Bernard Kennedy Poems

I never thought him dead.
Only running in the park,
and sitting stretched by fire,
or with his paw,
...

Summer is brought
through this lemon zest
of colour-
reflected under the chin,
...

It was a cool thing,
from the movies and a fix or high and then a relax.
Coffee and cigarettes for a fashion for a fashionista.
It gathered fellow travellers and was arty and fitted de rigeur of the day.
...

We danced like gypsies in the heat of day,
and matched our colors bright and gay,
and music strings brought tears of love,
and bands of strolling players moved above,
...

I met my father, on
the hill of the road,
at kilmashogue.
he was striding down from
...

A joy rings out, throughout,
family, neighbourhood and clan,
'thou art here', born, now,
joy is ours.
...

The summer morning,
it rises to the sound
of dogs greeting day, in garden near,
and Fuschia, waking in the morn
...

He was hungry for dinner at eight,
and swaggered onto music stage,
with audiences eager for song,
and presence of the confident master of
...

A quiet pathway off the drive, a rustle
then again, and bushy tails are swaying, playing and searching.
Grey, as lifting a goblet, the hands
are raised, in search, and eyes dart, either way,
...

The word is the thing, and
this word redemption reintroduces
the lost one, homeless and begging.
a word that makes
...