Clare McWilliams [Belfast Beatnik]
Biography of Clare McWilliams
Clare McWilliams Poems
Drinking And Writing Date Written 03/02/...
Why do i drink, because I'm a writer? Because I need a good haze in which to find The fuzzy ponderings of my scattered mind.
Every Month Date Writte...
For twelve years I have not been pregnant Yet one hundred and forty four times I have thought so. Even when the only way was through immaculate conception. Each month I find myself wishing to bleed or not to bleed.
I Am Heartless
I am frozen like the arctic When I wish to polarize another North and South of my heart Realign, spin and switch
Into The Breach
Into the breach, dear friends, Here I go. No, I think not, not this time. I will use the pain to write,
After the bar I can't go home Cos tonight I don't want be alone. Want stimulation of mind, So company I find.
Sweet Lament ...
He said he was in love, I knew it was a lie. He hadn't thought it through Long enough, in my eye.
Well now it's time to say goodbye, Not time to talk, or time to cry. I think that pride got in the way, Of all the things I meant to say.
Mother why did you go? I needed you, selfish I know, Gone to do anothers work?
Nervous Breakdown Naivety
Stripped to the very bare bones of my mind. Hard Knocks casusing my heart to take flight Flutter flutter- Sputter sputter. Need for solitude
Sleep? Date W...
I should sleep, my neck it tells me so But there within the cold quilt I'm alone. I should sleep and leave this vile machine now But it calls me to caress its keys once more.
A Comedy Of Errors
A Comedy of Errors Date Written 18/10/2007 The whole world is a stage I am, but, an errant actor Who refuses to learn her lines.
For Red Lips Date Wr...
1 I listen to Rakhmaninov And my mind conjures a future moment with you. A time spent alone with your gifted red lips.
Through The Looking Glass Dat...
A void of commercialism and misinformation, It's the black hole of the television station. Designed and arranged to make you believe, Whatever Falsities THEY choose to weave.
A Love Libation
Soft and warm within the snug of a freshly washed quilt. A hand moves- the covers tilt. Tender fingertips sweep delicate scented flesh. Dream and reality begin to mesh.
Friend, who is that?
Someone who needs me.
Seems that way.
What goes around, comes around
Am I then helping for selfish reasons?
Friend, who is that?
Someone who I need.