Friday, June 29, 2007

A Recent Poem

Self-Indulgence

I sit here in front of my computer screen hoping for words to shape themselves into meaningful patterns. Sometimes I get great satisfaction from my efforts. Other times very little. Mostly I’m listening either listening to Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen, both of whom often wring a tear from my eyes. Perhaps they are both a little on the deep side, if not morose and possibly depressing. Often, when I re-read what I have written I get a little despondent at the results of the exercise. When I write what sometimes shapes itself into a poem often I feel as if I have crafted what might be a gem, but when re-read a day or two later this poor effort has crumbled into a tawdry trinket made of some ersatz substance – fit only for the waste-paper basket. Maybe, it’s not such a good idea to be adding to the mass of irrelevant words poured out on this WWW?

It’s been a long time since I’ve put up a few poems. Therefore, I’m going to inflict a few of my latest efforts on whoever is so unlucky to be wasting a few minutes with me.

I see three or four poems I might put up here. Forgive me for this utter self-indulgence. I suppose everyone who writes can be forgiven just a little of this latter vice.

The first poetic effort is about the fact that I find myself constantly in need of renovation, of needing always to make a new start after all the fitful and fruitless efforts to make progress in writing or indeed in doing anything worthwhile in my life:

New Start

My desk lies littered
Like my life
With little bits and pieces,
Odds and ends –
A ball of Blu Tack
That I pinch and pull
And roll and shape,
Sundry bills and late night pills,
Old envelopes, notebooks,
All half-filled with
What were once
Wise pithy sayings,
Insights grasped
Like the slippery silver
Of a poisonous mercury;
An old map of walks
In the west of Ireland,
A picture of a boat,
Pens and pencils
Needing a sharpened point,
A phone, a mouse,
A monitor, a keyboard
And all the rest -
All being doors upon doors
Into other magic worlds,
The lure of white blank pages
Crying out for words;
An old message
From a former lover
Written on the back
Of an old bill -
Faded now.

It’s high time
I cleared the decks
And started anew.

Above I have uploaded a picture of my cluttered desk as of today 29/06/2007

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