The Sunshine is Someplace Else
A man on Grafton Street
holds a pole
on top of which there is a board
advertising sunglasses
in a shop that is somewhere else.
He wears a worn leather jacket,
gloves, scarf and knitted hat,
but no sunglasses.
He looks like he has come
from somewhere sunny,
he looks like he wishes he could be
somewhere sunnier than here.
The largest range of designer
sunglasses in Ireland,
it says on his board.
The sun was shining earlier
now it looks like rain again.
He pulls his hood up over his knitted hat.
A treadmill of people
moves up and down
some with smiles
some with shades
some with frowns.
A bald man walks past in a suit
he wears sunglasses and an overcoat
an umbrella in one hand
a briefcase in the other
he doesn’t see the man
with the sunglasses ad
he doesn’t see beyond
the papers he carries
in his tightly gripped bag.
A young man holds up a cup
he is looking for shade,
for shelter, for anything better;
a busker belts out
songs of sunshine and loss
while a couple of lovers
begin losing each other
in the depths of a slow-dance
of pain.
There’s a child
in a pram, both she
and her mam have spectacles
dark on their faces;
the sellers of flowers at the corner
for hours are content that their stems
have the sunshine within
for they’ve come
from the sunniest of places.
The sun shines rarely now
but people still like to pretend
that it shines more often
and this, in the end,
is sometimes enough.
The sunglasses shop
is in the next street.
The sunshine is still someplace else.
Obscuring the Dark
The sun makes light
of the sea
then sets to the west
with a fiery breath
taking one more
day’s light from me.
My heart holds its beat
in the sleep of the night
bringing comfort and calm
to my mind
until dawn sends the moon
off to rest for the day
and I wake to the tune
of your lips on my face.
The spark from each kiss
keeps the embers aglow
as the sun starts to dance
on the sea
each touch and embrace
fan the flames as we go
headlong deep
down into the spray.
The waves wash away
our tracks in the sand
but we make a new path
on a different shore
though we bathe in the tide
of a day that will pass
our love is the light
that obscures the dark.
Tossa Revisited
Two lovers
one scooter
the martyr Vincent
observes their kisses
from his carved out window
high above the old town square
the church clock chimes the hour
pews empty and quiet now
in the night as in the day
I walked the empty aisle
to count the steps
from door to altar
lizards dart in and out
from behind a light
half way up a wall
they pause to take stock
of the comings and goings
a drunk with a can
and a one-legged man
make their different ways home
silhouetted two floors up
my thoughts run rampant
a balcony of memories
the only sound
the pouring of another glass
all is well
in the old town
tonight.
Poems copyright © Phil Lynch 2016
