eugenepower-poems

A slowness of times past Shadows move like ghosts With stillness centuries old; Their features, their demeanour: A slow current, heavy as pathos.

From across the Galway Bay Connemara stands grey Clouds, mountains, sky In soft tones varied and wild

Two notes slide in to one, Humming like a fruit. Night with bells is summoned, Is spiced and echoed On New Years Eve in Seville.

Dust of clouds Turn gold to ashes in a blue sky In streets of love, a cry Amongst puddles that look up.

Sign Posted with television aerials  On rooftops women take down washing Shadows move on whitewashed walls turned yellow.