No Drama
we don't dock;
we slam the boat
on the edge of a pebbled mudslide,
our shoes sinking
and leaking in water,
the landscape
some unpleasant dirt
with grass.
we pick bags off the bottom, bacon
and small beer, trudge
and try a fire
a little way from lakeside. our sky
in stalemate with islands,
grey and dull, lazy
and very heavy. this
had been a chance
at holiday.
hands gone, like candles
on a radiator. city boys
stumbled in wilderness - and we are not hunting
because none of us
likes doing that. Ireland - cold
and no drama
in anything; no rocks making interesting
shapes. the fire
hides beneath our barbecue,
squat and unassuming,
like a rabbit, frightened
in frozen scrub.
Diarmuid ó Maolalaí
A little about
myself; I'm a graduate of English Literature from Trinity College in Dublin and
recently returned there after four years abroad in the UK and Canada. I
have been writing poetry and short fiction for the past five or six years with
some success. My writing has appeared in such publications as 4'33', Strange
Bounce and Bong is Bard, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Out of Ours, The Eunoia
Review, Kerouac's Dog, More Said Than Done, Star Tips, Myths Magazine,
Ariadne's Thread, The Belleville Park Pages, Killing the Angel and Unrorean
Broadsheet, by whom I was twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. I have also
had my work published in two collections; 'Love is Breaking Plates in the
Garden' and 'Sad Havoc Among the Birds'
Tags:
Poetry