belfast

a pen by the telephone 

harvest gold telephone

broken ink embryos yet to drain

naked lines real enough to cast

on train rails from the heart

stretching like strings of a dulcimer

ringing like the rattling feathers

of angel wings

stretching the span of his mind

back twenty years or more

play that song, Shawn

the one that reminds him

of the prostitutes

along the walls of Belfast Mill

where the chimney reeks

of womens' fingers spoiling

as they weave and spin

he wishes to slip into hazy dreams of Ireland

and whisky drenched memories

of long ago

the silent telephone

holds it secrets

like a pen that will not write

but then it did ring

taking him by surprise

the line connecting from miles away

and it sounded like the smile

he swore he’d return to someday

but her city was sworn

to never have sidewalks graced

by his boots ever again

but rather the harvest gold

appliance rang and rang 

while the night surrendered 

as the one before

while lamenting he’d 

never see Belfast again

Reviews

[paddy d daly]

Beautifully penned and so atmospheric. I could
almost be there, I was there in fact and you have
taken me back!

[Chadvonswan]

ink embryos, nice man, i like that

[~]

A memoir that is delivered with poise. You do not shy away from skillful metaphors and vivid personifications which make the city come alive. And the reader is left with so many questions.. why this and why that..? Mine is - was she warm?

[Emily B]

so good to come back to words like these

[Beccy]

So well written, so finely attuned to the senses. The longing is palpable, the imagery stark and incredibly well drawn.

I really, really enjoyed this.


Beccy.

[paul sal.....]

Irish wiskey,on a lonley night.Great story telling, looking out a window.............

[Saddam]

the silent telephone
holds it secrets
like a pen that will not write.

Great prescription there. Love it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

but the pen will write, and yours is doing just that...and i can see and smell the smoke, see the prostitutes lined up against the walls...and i hear that phone ringing with words on the other end.

[Alfred Kukitz]

Hi X,

We meet again on poet's turf that is sure to sound like a tumulus congratulation. Most times one can pick out a line or two or three that really turned my head but damn it the whole damn thing was one great line.

Regards,

Al

[Bright Ocean Star]

Xavier, this is beautiful and transcendant. You transport me to Ireland and seas of green grass in the meadows. I can see the gold telephone of a lonely cottage in Belfast. This one is ripe with heartache and what ifs...very well done.