Poetry

Memory

Sam McKeon

In kernelled core,
Somewhere, pebbled under,
Lurks a mystery light,
Dim reminder to spark.
In turning stone, opening door,
Glazed magnifier of sad things, gone before.

Thatched cottage roofs, all at angles,
Rivers dry, stopped running, droughtily.
High limpet stuck, on cliffy place,
Observed from peak,
Troughed valleys beneath.

Place frames a memory,
Frames constrain all.
Filters seize sparklers,
Hazing,
Dimming stars falling, in fear.

Galaxy of histories,
Rewritten texts, forbidding.
Captivity, restriction.
No permission.

© 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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