Knife ryhmes with life
And what is life without strife?
Here is a hint:
The answer's Johan Cruyff;
With surgical precision,
Picks you apart like a knife;
Turn a game on a dime -
Now that's Johan Cruyff.
Knife rhymes with life
And what is life without strife?
Here is a hint:
The answer's Tarmogoyf;
Sure, it feeds on death,
As all graveywards are rife;
Ask Maynard about Vegas -
Now that's Tarmogoyf.
Knife rhymes with life
And what is life without strife?
Here is a hint:
The answer's your wife;
Loving and caring,
Surely that isn't right?
"You forgot the immersion" -
Now that's your loving wife.
Knife rhymes with life
And what is life without strife?
Here is a hint:
The answer's your knife.
Chopping and cutting
Every day of your life;
Once used for its purpose -
"Now that's a knife."
Peace in a Crack Den
A blog of poetry by Francis Thomas Reilly.
Saturday, March 10, 2018
Wednesday, November 1, 2017
Walls
Obstacles before me
Loom large in the present,
Wearing me down; but
Not you, from the crescent:
The loveable rogue,
My best friend,
Who tore down walls
To get to the end.
For a time you were lost,
Unsure of your fate,
Aimless in action,
Then acting too late:
But not anymore,
My best friend;
You tore down your walls
To get to the end:
Where I need to be,
Beyond all fear;
I see you succeed
And know hope is near.
Now thanks to you,
My best friend,
I will tear down walls
To get to the end.
Labels:
Anto Gallagher,
November 2017,
Walls
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Sojourn
In one day all is settled
As confirmation comes
Via a click and a trip.
Two days later the
News is delivered
In a well-worded quip.
Writing is rotten in
Only one respect
With regards expression;
Not in description but
Sightless vision of faces
Without precession.
If only I witnessed
Your face that morning
When you read the news.
Better still, I’d have
Arrived at your ‘sill
Had I the chance to choose.
But in films they
Disregard details
And how they impact romance;
So it’s best for us
That in logic I trust –
And leave nothing to chance.
Now time suffocates
Our separate attempts
To count down the days:
You in New York with
Lonely distractions as
Each new dawn fades;
Me in Dublin with
Working commitments as
Hope waits to come true –
But time’s guarantee is
To always pass, so
I can live with waiting for you.
As confirmation comes
Via a click and a trip.
Two days later the
News is delivered
In a well-worded quip.
Writing is rotten in
Only one respect
With regards expression;
Not in description but
Sightless vision of faces
Without precession.
If only I witnessed
Your face that morning
When you read the news.
Better still, I’d have
Arrived at your ‘sill
Had I the chance to choose.
But in films they
Disregard details
And how they impact romance;
So it’s best for us
That in logic I trust –
And leave nothing to chance.
Now time suffocates
Our separate attempts
To count down the days:
You in New York with
Lonely distractions as
Each new dawn fades;
Me in Dublin with
Working commitments as
Hope waits to come true –
But time’s guarantee is
To always pass, so
I can live with waiting for you.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
In Transit
Cris-crossing planes
Soar so high;
At their level,
You forget why:
On your way
To pastures new,
Seeking something
Better to do.
Now in transit
As midday fades,
Your body-clock
At last gives way.
In your aisle seat
With eyes shut tight –
Willing time to
Spur this flight.
And as you begin,
Nerves set in:
You fear the cost of a fall –
But in the end,
You’ll comprehend:
You can’t win ‘em all.
The night before
A tear slipped out;
You held on and
Voiced your doubts.
Kissing them up
I pulled you near –
And told you to
Embrace your fears.
Hindsight tells you
Then was better;
Selling souvenirs
Or vintage sweaters.
But once you land
You’ll start to see
That Now lies in
New York City.
And as you get in,
Nerves rescind:
Your fears are fallow to all –
As in the end,
You comprehend:
“I can’t win ‘em all.”
Soar so high;
At their level,
You forget why:
On your way
To pastures new,
Seeking something
Better to do.
Now in transit
As midday fades,
Your body-clock
At last gives way.
In your aisle seat
With eyes shut tight –
Willing time to
Spur this flight.
And as you begin,
Nerves set in:
You fear the cost of a fall –
But in the end,
You’ll comprehend:
You can’t win ‘em all.
The night before
A tear slipped out;
You held on and
Voiced your doubts.
Kissing them up
I pulled you near –
And told you to
Embrace your fears.
Hindsight tells you
Then was better;
Selling souvenirs
Or vintage sweaters.
But once you land
You’ll start to see
That Now lies in
New York City.
And as you get in,
Nerves rescind:
Your fears are fallow to all –
As in the end,
You comprehend:
“I can’t win ‘em all.”
Labels:
In Transit,
July 2012,
June 2012,
New York
Monday, June 4, 2012
Hoardings
Where hope is lost
Hoardings are found –
This is why we
Tear them to ground.
Labels:
Centra,
Clongriffin,
Hoardings,
June 2012
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