Moon is my mistress -
Melancholy muses,
Menstrual mayhem,
Lunar fuses
Sparks – confuses.
Moon is my master -
Harbouring boats
Float and fall,
Ebb and flow
Towards the glow.
Moon is my maker -
Tides may turn,
Crash and burn.
Calm commotion
On waves of emotion.
Moon is my mentor -
Magical mysteries
Molding – scolding
Sores and insights
Of poet and playwright.
Moon is myself,
My cynic, my soul.
Goal of my gun,
My pen and my pun.
In a pub that mostly drinks Guinness
I order a hot port with lemons and cloves,
Sweet scents of Christmas tingling my nostrils -
Winter only started two days earlier.
In a bar the size of a living room,
Musty smell of workmen and regulars,
People discuss philosophy and art –
How rock n’ roll changed their life.
An old couple sit side by side
Like they’ve done for years
Thinking of love, but the talk is small,
Comfortable in each other’s silence.
When they do converse he holds up his finger
for emphasis. Flat cap resting on his left knee.
She agrees with him all the way,
Smiling subversively when he gets too serious.
It feels like old Dublin
Hidden down a side street by Clery’s,
Oasis of warm yesterdays
In a nouveau cool city.
Sheltering from cold tomorrows
I am an overdressed guest,
All fur and too much eye make up.
Scrambling for old world glamour.
