Archive for June, 1984

1984-06-24 For the pictures

Sunday, June 24th, 1984

                    For the pictures


   In the gray half light I saw the picture patterns she'd hung;
   imperishable for this moment, and so fragile for all the rest.
   Someday, I may remember these, that tonight I can see.
   Somewhere, down the imponderable paths our lives wind,
   I could be dropped into another world - far from this
   and Rose's pictures and Danny's manhood and Chris' cheeks
   may all be photographs and memories then ...
   indeed...we all will be, someday.


   So this moment ... I cannot stop it, cannot delay it
   and I cannot waste it, least I regret.


   So easy to lose it against hungers or moods or fatigue.
   The kindness and love we give and receive...
   it seems so mixed with the mundane and the trivial sometimes.


   But all the lessons of our lives wait before us;
   lessons from which no one escapes alive.


   What more could God give us than the people we love
   and the passion of living out our lives with them
   in family/friend chains of living change?


                           gallagher
                           24 jun 84




— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1984-06-24 poets

Sunday, June 24th, 1984

poets

I don’t understand the poets who dig for their hearts
twisting in the coils of their own undoing

or, perhaps I do, for I’ve been there
but pain for the sake of rendering it
as proof of having lived it…

You will live and die posed and postured or not

Go stand on tables and rant
thumb your nose at convention
and go for what can be felt
with your utter resolve

moths against the flame

No one said courage and understanding sleep together

Go ON! dig for you heart…tear it out and stamp it
stamp it until its dead

but there will still be poverty and children and love
and people will still live and die outside

with their simple heroisms unsung and unseen….

gallagher

24 jun 84

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

1984-06-24

Sunday, June 24th, 1984

What will I say to them, these chest clawed veterans
what, to shock them with MY vision
awaken those jaded of wine and muse

They’ll fall asleep if I don’t tear my heart out here
and come to the bare edge of my sanity, quickly

Sarcasm, passion, agonizing, intellectualizing
and plundering their lives for words

What can I do against such as these,
a romantic at an existentialist’s ball

My dreams though, are real…
forged of pain, yes
but the dreams and not the pain have endured

I see music in children’s eyes
and feel tears well at old photographs
of people never met

I’ve seen that each moment can be an act of utter
courage…if we just live it to the brim

Gossamer curtains these against their screams for blood
a child running in a city under siege

gallagher

24 jun 84


— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —