My Furrow Is But One Poem by Liam ó Comáin

over the years i followed
many furrows art politics
church ministry and sport

striving to discern where
ever my talent lay
was it philosophy
psychology or any sort

but alas i found no peace
as my life passed from day
to day no ending to my quest

later as life ebbed
just past the 60 mark
i realised my talent lay
with the prosodic art

my tool it is a biro
between four fingers
and a thumb
ploughing the field
of life
now my furrow is but one