Monday 25 September 2017

A special poem for Christmas

James Lawless

The birds make fake bird songs

that I heard in the Christmas shops,

the fake moon is spotted before dark,

the navyblue sky is waiting

for its absence to be filled,

houses stand like sentries,

men in windows sharpen knives,

dogs bark at the fading light,

black specks of carbon birds

circle my head

because I am one

who will not look up,

the small boy counts down,

radio and TV hop with expectation,

the weather changes,

the bookmaker gives good odds on snow,

all is meant to change,

the barometer moves up and down

the human heart,

cloying melodies bring tears

to those who depart;

it is a time of arrival

where the moss grows green

and the harvest that was gathered

can now be shared between

the angels carrying candles

and the drunk who sways in the wind.

From 'Rus in Urbe', a new collection of poetry by James Lawless which will be published in 2012 by Doghouse

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