Carty

Whenever possible I buy blank greeting cards and write my own messages. It always feels good to create from my heart. I believe poetry is all around, in every thing and action and spontaneous speech. Renewed by the human spirit's appreciation of beauty and goodness. There is no unchanging standard that can reside in perfection in books rarely read. Enthralled by the originality of much contemporary poetry from patron-less amateur/semi-amateur writers. Devotee of p4poetry and it's community.

Gion Gion has written 266 poems.
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Torn.

 

I’m not reconciled,

After all life’s toil,

In this South to abide,

In its stony soil.

 

Nor beside that quarry,

Though She lies there,

Is my choice to tarry,

For my last repair.

 

There’s a stone garden,

In a Meath corner,

Named for my patron,

Where I would inter.

 

Raise above me a bench,

For those wont to mourn,

Who in grief’s wrench,

Would pray for my soul.

 

At a familiar place,

Let the world pass bye,

And if it turn a face,

Over where I might lie,

 

Beyond the hills of Loughcrew,

And their wooded fringe,

Let them praise the view,

And not sorrow tinge.

 

©Copyright Fergus Carty 2020

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