The Muse

(An International Journal of Poetry)

Volume-1                                          June-2011                                                        Number-1

 

Bookends

by Mike J Gallagher

Four and ninety years apart, stand my bookends,
an uncle, now grown old, a grandson, not yet two.
Between them, stacked, are tales of war, none won,
of nations born and great empires undone;
stories of romance, of broken hearts,
joy of births, painful deaths;
dispersal of our island race,
the blooded drag of clan's embrace;
weariness of a world worn down,
hope of a world  cheerily young.
Distanced by an ocean, a disparity in age,
my bookends could now, and ever after,
our cares and worries soon assuage
were we to share their laughter.

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Interlude

by Mike J Gallagher

Drop your pen, give in,
draw close to the window
whence comes the sound.
Out there in the smog
of a damp April evening
A mistle thrush sings
of pleas and urgings,
of broody clucking
of soaring joy.
Maestro mocking
my empty page.

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