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Poem 1

Updated: Nov 13, 2021

Out in the Bay

Out in the bay, calm, the shiver of wave, palette of shale, turquoise and silver

And the subtle outlines of trails that trail off from cloud shadow and water currents

From movements above and below, an unshakeable feeling, this urge, to trace the arcs

Outlines and flat blobs in the sea, the water scarred, the subtle delineations that seem

Meaningless to anyone else but me, this prepossession ephemeral yet careworn creased

A scream shattered and the fragments ooze into the sluice and slice of the sea

The loose shapes rest and wax and wobble outwards of themselves towards

Dispersal or are lost in the tumult of external pressures from coming Atlantic storms

Roughening up but presently this tempered scene is key to some matutinal secret

A dispensation from other wasted mornings yet still inured to the lack of answer

Thus putting such a premium on some sort of utterance, a twist and shout even

But demur tending to downplay performance, always turning down a dance

For pointless appointments under the pretence of paying the rent outstanding

And now I shiver, in my right hand, spiritedly and fail to play the piano in the air

When asked politely, a few weeks with Mr Keys who lived near The Hole in The Wall

But I never had the feel for it, I could throw a stone or kick a ball for hours however

My Disordered Movement proved, my fate pronounced, an unshakeable shake

I’m branching off and I’m branching out to see if I’ve the scope to sue for music.

To dispel any obscure argument for ignorance, to outgrow once and for all

All the wet dreams of adolescent idolatry, instead hold in abeyance the answers

To the bland demand of meaning, instead say some words for the drowned souls

Untaxed, unsolicited and dismiss, as Fletcher in Porridge does, those who blather

As ‘all wind and water’ and endeavour to cut the nets, to let slip the truck with

The mackerel skies, to allay the rub of obsolescence, to throw a party.

Martin Sharry. 2014.

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