Patrick O'Reilly Poems

It gets quiet at 3am.
The bedsheets are wrinkled and rolled back.
Another half empty cup of coffee,
Another crumpled sheet of paper.
...

A church is holier when it is empty,
When every private step echoes off the ceiling,
Like ripples of solemn sound
And the candles stand unlit,
...

This is an ancient artform,
A relic almost sacred I told her
As I placed the huge black disc onto the platform.
I've never even seen one of these she confessed.
...

In the downtown clubs you can hear them singing.
Ghost's songs stepping off the coffin ships
Which carried them across that broad Western ocean.
...

The sun came up without permission
To make me wonder which day it was.
The razor sunrise rips into my red eyes,
And I shut them fast and tight
...

Between two trees stood a sullen man
Counting on his words
When two Queens tilted at him
With sharp and heavy swords
...

There is no music tonight, my darling,
This radio is busted.
You can turn the dial all you want.
...

Take the wheel!
We could drive til the gas tank is bone dry.

Because I don't want to die in this town,
...

You went,
A name without a face,
A name on everyone's lips,
Saying `Never more to pass unchallenged
...

The great North Wind rattles the trees
And shatters their twigs to splinters
The sparkling quilt of snow knee-deep
Paves the streets of winter
...