Friday, 17 June 2011

Some Poetry

I heard the poet Padraig O'Morain  being interviewed on the the arts show the other evening. He read this poem and explained that he wrote it after observing a couple that sat in silence in a Galway hotel and because of their silence he presumed that they were married. He first wrote what he described as an arrogant poem about them, but some years later revisited it and re wrote it this way. It really struck a cord with me.

A night out
They have made the effort all the same.
Spruced up in fresh, pressed clothes
in the beige of the Corrib Lounge
they share a desperate silence
pretending to listen to their own minds.
Once, words spilled from them like wheat from a sack,
golden as grain in a good year
or they stretched out in a different silence
that lay lazily between sighs,
little enough needing to be said.
Now, they stare ahead and wait for words
like landed fish out of oxygen
but nothing leaps from these tongues tonight.
Yet, in this silence, in this nothing to say,
is there not tenderness, everything said?

1 comment:

  1. Yes, tenderness! I love the silence also.
    Have a nice weekend, Helmi


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