Joe O’Connell

May 18th, 2017 by admin

From our 20th Anniversary Anthology

Dingle Day poems by Joe O’Connell

Music-energy
In Flanders fields Did Bob Seeger and the Silver Bullet Band Buoy us up on a Spring morning With a driving force, Ebullient, hoarse and sound, Prophetic energy about nothing much really Or everything That a young sub-prime man should feel, The world and its promise wheeling under his heel. In rushy Kerry fields, actually, Were these musical propellers felt, The sun winning supremely over the fluffy clouds For attention received unsolicited Like a fancied one, Its power and beauty constant, Immutable and impermeable to any move, Indifferent to the machinations Of an earth bound offspring.
Halloevening
That fairies, or pucai, don’t exist In the glaringly obvious physical sense Is utterly besides the point To any celtically attuned Consciousness Centred and diffused Through the pale, cold autumnal Halloevening thin air In damp, mushroomy, rushy fields Amongst meditative bovines, Mysterious sheep, wild-eyed goats And furtive little beings, Who, surprised, turn their independent eyes Almost, yet somehow more than human, Towards yours questing, Knowing something, arrogantly conveyed, That your quest will never find.

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