Poetry

Belonging

Sam McKeon

Dry your eyes,
Spare not a thought,
I rest on the street.
Subway grille heating,
Bottled spirit drinking.

I live memoried days,
Of year-hindered pasts.
I do not need sympathy,
Nor tokens, gestured giftings,
Here I can rest apart.

From low aspected vista,
Viewing as child of choice.
Here you do not threaten,
Your voice of anger,
Impotent,
Only beckons my curiosity.

Nothing frightens me,
Surprise is a memory,
Pleasure a stranger,
But filthy serenity,
My pendulum stopped,
I am suspended.

Observe my tubered, corpsely root,
Perhaps from there,
Might spring shoots,
Drawn by daylight force.
In time, transplanting may,
If I am ready,
Return this poisoned ivy,
Home.

© Sam McKeon 2015

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Published by Sam McKeon

Sam McKeon is a recluse, living on the remote rugged west coast of Ireland. Currently, Sam’s poetry tends to focus on his inner universe and the moments he spends with the very few people he is in contact with, especially his muse Emily, who has inspired almost fifty poems, tracing the development of their relationship. The astonishing drama and beauty of the wild Irish landscape is also absorbed into his writing. This can lead to some weird things, but mostly it leads to deeply passionate works stitched together with tender reflection.

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