Patrick Keenan Poems

Till you spoke to me
I never knew how lonely I could be
I had heard my own voice
asking and answering myself
...

Come all you who earn your burn
Whose lives depend on the favors of man
This damp night air
It don't care
...

These are not the family men
Taken to thinking of when
Nah, these guys are wound up
from beginning to end of now
...

Music don't get old
& sit on benches
showing photographs
...

Come on in
the room

Ah, don't stare so
...

sitting and waiting for your voice
the silence and I are patient
your voice is always worth the wait
and the possibility of your warm laughter
...

look from the middle out
to see the days lengthen into Spring
Noon get rounder and rounder
a peak to a slope to a plain
...

new meant
with hope and intent

bearing grin not grim
...

I was there
that afternoon
when John Flynn
didn't have it anymore
...

I might not be here
but if you listen
in the morning mist
you can hear quite clear
...