Laurence E. Bourke Poems

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Eye Of The Storm

The doom-noise tumbles in. no colors flee the eye of it.
Miles on windy miles succumb, sunlight cant get in.
Nothing tells the day from night beneath this grey-black roof,
This charged procession of cloudy walls,

Cat On The Roof

Fleet as wind, she slenderly navigates the
early morning world. A world unseen to the
sleepers, tinned skies distilling the blue of
the west, the yellowing east.

In Sleep

In sleep, in sleep, I wander deep,
Into minds un-ego’ed keep,
And swim in thoughts
And swim in dark,

Summer Surfaces

The over-blue is full of noise, and bottomless, summer sinks its
Humid teeth into the sky, boiling tons of barely breathable air,
Dynamic flotillas of white clouds graze the illusory crown of sun,

The Collision(Dream)

All night, you weighed me up, globular, a mad-god eye,
From your jeweled grove. What weight can measure the
Sky when you unbalance so. Dark sided circumference, always
Hidden, maybe you’ve lived forever,

April Drear

The world outside, a dark room of water,
quiet and unbearably bleak.
Movement limited to the grey tides

November Cold

Winters transparent coat, the blustery cape of a November morning
Swings downward, erratically and with ultimate force,

A barbarous mixing of air and below zero climes, snatched

Storm Front, , ,

Clouds this morning bear no semblance to those were accustomed to,
Rimmed by tides of winter fire, dull goliaths, tired with rain, Yearning
to expunge their elephantine loads,

Sea Cliffs

These are the cliffs, proving Ireland's finite edge,
Steep slabs, rugged hearts of olden things, of all forgot.
We tremble at the slope, skirting these stormy world rims.

Morning Wakes...

The morning briskly opened its half lit eyes,
And me, walking out unknowingly into the dusky bedlam
Felt as though the world was one of wind and ice,
A world tilted on sleepy axis toward some distant night.

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