Sunrays sweep the courtyard as nature’s brief introspection
Caresses chimneys, quiet and coarse like Irishmen’s speech,
To polemically galvanise
Potential clouds over Ancoats from a primordial distance
And breed deformed progeny of downpour
With caustic rivulets
.
Hid in glassblowers’ hesitant self-knowledge
Premeditated movement of determined hand
Scatters purposes of sententious posturing
Canonised proletarian effort
To inert absoluteness
There truly are absent saints in dead churches
.
Hephaestus taught them the prudent anatomy
Of iron perseverance
Of gilded effacement
Of poverty’s tamed arrogance
Of sparsely ambitious lamentation
.
As tribalism of fluid hymns anointed eternities contained
Within twelve hours – a crooked spike of moral condemnation
Borne like a standard on the lips of devils
As unholy apotheosis that only a drop of sweat
Fallen on a warm soil doggedly contradicts
April 24, 2011 at 5:18 pm
Excellent post thanks for sharing. I enjoy reading and writing poems very much. It’s very relaxing. Thanks again.
An Easter Poem
April 26, 2011 at 12:36 am
Rich language, I like it.
April 26, 2011 at 2:54 am
Really like the tone and feel of the poem. Made me think of Aristotle’s Iliads. Excellent write.
April 26, 2011 at 10:19 am
I always feel oppressed when I visit Manchester.
But I don’t really know why 🙂
April 27, 2011 at 11:09 pm
Thank you all for your kind comments 🙂
April 30, 2011 at 3:33 am
very stunning words.
well done.
🙂