The Way of You

The Way of You               P.J. Murphy

I love the way of you....
The night, the day of you
The yesterday and today of you
Tomorrow and all of my tomorrows
I will stay with you

There is no hour of any day
Where you are not with me,

Lighting my way,
Your face before me, even when apart
Your heart beats in me

In every place, your love within me
No trial and no sorrow can defeat me
Life cannot beat me
At any time I can retreat
To where your warmth will greet me

I love the light of you
The everything's alright of you
Each blessed sight of you
A reminder you are part of me
The soul and heart of me

I love the sway of you
The dance of life that we
Will share for all eternity
The song of love I play
Is just to say - I love the way of you

P.J. Murphy
Copyright ©2005 P.J. Murphy

Website: www.guitarsongs.info

Pop!

Pop!         P.J. Murphy

Bobbing among the giggles
Transparent, but with rainbow hues
like sprites they magically appear
and dance misshapen by puffcheek winds

Filling the room with luminescence
and small throats with laughter
dismay at pings of evaporation
replaced with tentative replenishment

reflecting the flickering candles,
and bright and shiny birthday things
restless and impatient to be gone
they wend their way relentlessly

into memories

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Where does it go?"
 
pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Return of Oedipus

Return of Oedipus          P.J. Murphy

I gaze upon her from above
draped in aquamarine
her emerald eyes twinkle at me
Closer now, ever closer
Her verdant hue welcoming

My innocence returning
I marvel at her myriad
Shades and shadows,
Seductive woodland nymph
Swathed in leafy garland

Scent of pear and apple,
Wild mint and pine
Recall youthful encounters
in her mossy leafstrewn orchards
and pastoral verdant hills

With outstretched arms
And shamrock garland
She embraces me
My mother, my love
My Ireland

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Green' 


pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Opaque Resume

Unconsidered by the scornful young,
Who's eyes see only crimson, black and white;
Feared by the world-weary aging
To them a symbol of their mortal plight.

I am the shade of sense and reason
of tolerance and compromise -
Grey areas, which most ( whose narrow spectrum
shows but vivid colours ) despise.

I am the hue of contemplation,
The colour of the mighty sea at night
I am the shadow where events too
dangerous or nefarious to take place in light
are enacted by the courageous and the lost.

The dusk where clandestine lover's tryst
Unveils true beauty without distraction of surround
Enhanced with only ethereal mist.
I am the flawed or genius cell inside your brain,
the formless grey miasma of your dream.

I am the ash to which one day you will return
When tincture fades, and shades of grey redeem


P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Grey'


pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Transplanted

Liquid eyes as dewdrops
on pinkening petal-cheeks
lips suffused, smolder with promises ;
intoxicating fragrances
permeate sepal, buds, corolla
of this exquisite Celtic bloom

The sanguine Spanish sun,
accustomed ever to smile upon
a well-stocked rose bed of it's own
reflects the radiant glory of an Irish rose
nurtured by it's balmy bounty
and has the grace to blush.


~~~~~~~~~


I am from Ireland, and this was written to my wife, whose beauty flourished and was burnished exotic in the warm and splendid Spanish sun - the fiery beauty of Spain, in its turn, was enhanced by her presence.

Sometimes you need to transplant a rose to a sunnier place to realise how very beautiful it is.

.... And Hell Followed.....

They have been among us
for some time now
You could have passed
any of them in the street...

Discrete, they have been waiting, waiting
they flex an occasional muscle
independantly devastating
a portion of humanity
communicating transcendentantly
to apportion synchronicity
each one having wrought
a limited, controlled vengeance
without thought of consequence
cold, purposeful malevolence

Preying on the weak
playing on the weakness
of the lowest of mankind
to further bind their vile finality
our reality is that in a while, soon
they will fashion soul's destruction

Our sole defence is to commune
the forces of collective compassion
to pit the milk of human kindness
against mounted apocalyptic horses
and enemies of man, long recounted...
War
Pestilence
Famine
Death

P.J. Murphy
(c) 2005

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Lumber Paralysis

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's  indifference." Elie Wiese



feigning oblivion
to sprawled
lifeless lumber,
fallen,  felled

Our limbs loft
rigidly erect
proud,  aloof,
upstanding

we gaze skyward,
haughtily avoid
awkward  vista of
wretch stretched

uncouthly oozing
sap solution
over  our exclusive
deep-pile carpet

If anyone
asks...

we  heard

Nothing.

( If a tree fell in the forest and everyone pretended not to notice, would it make a sound? Are bears catholic? Does the pope shit in the woods? )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Covenant

God's beauty over timeless tabled mountain
Spectrum colours burst in bright magnificence
A stunning skyscape charged with prism splendour
But somewhere stirs a half-remembered promise...

A token of a Covenant, sign of a Deity
No more will Nature's aqueous power be deployed
for destruction, anguish, death and devastation -
where now this Contract, this Divine benign Treaty?

Was some expiry date in smallest print disguised?
In Illinois, New Orleans, South East Asia
forlorn faithful pore through dampened Bibles
For Heaven's indemnity of solemn promise broken

Rebirth

They handed me the bundle,
I took it gingerly
Oblivious to the throbbing
of pain-crushed fingers
"It's a boy" the nurse said,
"... I think you'll find it's not"
I deigned to challenge
Her gynaecological expertise

Umbilical confusion sorted,
I gazed in awestruck wonder
and unparalleled joy
at the pink, splotched
wriggling beauty,
cossetted in my protective arms,
crowned with night-black hair
that was my daughter

I know that there were many
important, sad and tragic events
In 1980. The world lost
John Lennon, Steve McQueen
Hitchcock, Durante, Sartre,
Mae West, Jesse Owens....
I just remember that I
gained the world. And was reborn.

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry a contest on AllPoetry.Com where the theme was '1980' pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com www.guitarsongs.info

Antishade

Black - the ebon shade, the anti-shade
to some a portentous and an ominous hue
doleful, funereal, depressing
Casting sinister and sullen thoughts
In minds where light has been excluded

To others the contrast against which
life's palette gains a new black-magic glow
Obsidian stars, an impish onyx moon
Dark skies filled with sable cloud
Mysterious beauty on a pitchblack night

To all, a moment's fraction ere the universe began
When all was raven-black and tranquil
Soundless and eternal nothingness
Interrupted by savage and spectacular explosion
A dazzling beauty, only by immortals seen

And raucous life,
With splendid spectrum colours
From blackest dark
Was born

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Black'

Underdog

Bloodied but unbowed
he licks his wounds
bruised and bleeding
from earlier skirmishes
appraises his diminished resources
in readiness for new assaults

No respite forthcoming
his foe rapidly renews attack
fashioning what could be
the final, mortal blow
a salvo fired, not in anger
but in smug assurance of victory

He stares into the vacant eyes
of this inhuman adversary
shark's eyes, cold, unfathomable
devoid of caring or compassion
pale glow of predatory compulsion
to devour the weak and lame

His gut churns nauseously
primal fight-or-flight mechanisms
unbidden, unconsciously deploy,
rush of blood gushes to throbbing heart
sinews twitch and dance inside
he fights to outwardly project bravado

His hour has come, his last hurrah
he breathes a mouthless, silent prayer
to fickle Gods for just one more indulgence.
A final check on his weaponry -
One Bullet, one Hook, two Clubs
And howls again his clarion war cry...

"ALL-IN!!"


P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: I am a passionate, and moderately successful gladiator in the glorious battleground that is No Limit Texas Hold'em Poker. For the uninitiated, Bullet means Ace, a hook is a Jack, All-in means you are betting all of your remaining chips. For the short-stacked player, going all-in on an Ace/Jack of Clubs is a typical example of attack being the best form of defence. This was first posted on Allpoetry.com

Turquoise

My two 'Helen of Troy's
  ( .. the spit of their mother )
She smoothly decoys
  ( .. she makes up wonderful stories )

Box full of toys
  ( .. asleep at last! )
Absence of noise
  ( .. Ah, blessed silence... )

A lover's sure poise
  ( ..God, she's beautiful )
To hell with the boys
  ( ..I can play poker anytime )

Play the songs she enjoys
  ( ..I love her so much )
My bringer of joys
  ( ..I could watch her forever )

..Wrapped in turquoise

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Turquoise'

Alchemist

He speaks to her pathetically of his father-love,
Seeking her forgiveness for his regal lunacy
No answer from her once-honey lips returns
while salt tears nestle in his tawny beard
Still dampened from the aureated waters of the Pactolus.

He reaches to touch her once-flaxen hair
She doesn't flinch or brush his hand away
Accusingly she stares, silent, unfathomable
Her gilded eyes, created by this alchemist,
Their lustre mirrored in this lavish surround -
Grotesque golden garden of a greedy Phrygian King

To Dionysus, God of life-force, he stumbles a prayer,
To return him to that time before his avaricious folly
That she would not be doomed to stare at him forever.
The Golden Child stirred, dimmed luminescence, roses red again
And Midas touched her caramel cheek and wept.

P.J. Murphy (c) P.J. Murphy 2005 Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Gold'

Grown

Up ahead scampering,
newly-begged coins held trophy-like aloft
flight paths locked into their destination
- an emporium of confectionary treasure -
long minutes considering rival treats
of chocolate, ice-cream, penny sweets
brief moments of envious rivalry
before an honourable trade is reached

Coins obsolete, crisp notes now
handed over with mock-begrudgery,
for pampering in hairdresser and beauty parlour
long hours appraising graduation gowns
to grace the arms of lost young brutes
mortified in ludicrous outmoded hired suits
but pride scarlet in their cheeks
as they display their radiant prize.

They've grown.
We have not lost them, only loaned them to the world
and bask in their reflected glow.
We tried to give them all we never had,
yet protect them, keep them happy and secure.
As they walk the high-wire of life's circus
we are their safety-net.
And should they make a life that grants them blessings
only half what we have known,
our work is done, their happiness assured.
They've grown.

P.J. Murphy

Copyright ©2003 P.J. Murphy

Brown Study

High-backed walnut chair sits empty
Mahogony rolltop desk with
Sepia parchment blank, unblemished
Henna ink drying on rusting bronze nib

Beige curtains, fawn carpet for restfulness
Earthenware mug of coffee gone cold
Ginger Nuts and Chocolate fingers
Inviting but unbitten, await

The fugitive's return.
Mise-en-scene complete, but he
Sits by a toasty bar-room turf fire,
Amber bottles strewn around

In a brown study.

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Brown'

Tryst

Sanguine sun slowly sinks
Behind the copper dunes.
Marooned in a crimson sky
Bloodshot clouds grimace angrily
Or coquettishly blush their shame -
my Titian companion sprawled
Nakedly beside me, my scarlet woman
Her flaming hair triumphantly
Tossed upon the salmon sands
Her pink skin roseate in
Dusk's vermillion glow.
Presently the last ruby rays
Will flicker thru a terracotta haze
And inflamed passion sated,
She will go.

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Red'

Home Sweet Home

Navigating with
unfathomable radar
journey's end
in certain death
against all odds
surfing salt Pacific sea
urgent instinct leads
to clear crystal streams
fight raging currents
onward furiously threshing
leaping Nature's obstacles
with Olympian finesse


"Journeys end
In lovers meeting"
eggs and milt
in Redd coalesce
continuity of species
assured, they await
the seaward journey
of their young smolts
( destined to continue
blueprinted Salmon pattern )
..and safely home,
cosmic purpose fulfilled
intrepid heros die

This was an entry for an Allpoetry.com contest with the theme 'Salmon'

Pacific salmon, spawned in fresh water rivers, find their way to sea, where they may remain for some years, but unerringly find their way back to their original freshwater home, fighting mighty battles to reach their estuary, and swimming upstream against the river's current - they spawn, and then die. Science is still baffled by the why and the how of this phenomenon

(c) P.J. Murphy, 2005

pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Crimson Beau

Brick-red
with embarrassment
He stood at my door.
Holding flowers for my daughter
sweetmeats for her mother...
for me, only effusive politeness
( though I did appreciate
the superhuman efforts made
in this obviously unfamiliar territory ).

Herself, fashionably late
adding to his discomfort,
I, taking pity, opened musical conversation.
Patently surprising him
with my knowledge and appreciation
of Incubus, Greenday, Primus,
we arranged exchange of latest releases.
He, more comfortable now,
relaxed, healthy pallor
returning to his cheeks.

The Vision appeared,
conversation stemmed mid-flow.
Goodbyes and pleasantries hastily exchanged
as he escorted her to waiting carriage.

Brick-red with pride.

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Brick-Red'

My Night

I placed the moon in my pocket
( My heart glowed suspiciously
pale in the darkening night )
When no-one was looking I stole
a whole constellation of stars
( for that subtle touch of concealed light )

Surreptitiously fitted on Saturn's rings
while, keeping her tryst, Lovely Venus,
had brought me her most precious things,
( we briefly kissed )...
Slipped the planet Mars
into an unobtrusive carrier bag
( I planned on painting the town red )

Mercury made me a present of his wings
created a momentary planned diversion
( pretending he was scared of heights )
to disguise the fact that I was borrowing
all the glowing lights of the city streets
( a jaunty neon halo for my head )

No-one seemed particularly to notice
the flamboyant fluffy feathered coat of indigo
Which I'd had tailored and fitted by Seraphim
from the nimbus clouds and the night sky
Nor the meteor shower chain-and-pendant
glowing fiery on my cherubic throat
( I'd grabbed it deftly, swiftly as it tried to hurtle by )


All in all, for this neo-angelic man
things were going celestially to plan
     It was undoubtedly
         going to be,
          literally,
          eternally
          MY NIGHT....

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for an Allpoetry.com contest

Somewhere else...

Somewhere else the payload scatters
pre-emptive, or perhaps reprisal
no malice toward the shattered humanity
just 'assuring our survival'

 The weeping and gnashing of the few fragmented teeth
fail to come to our attention
obscured by the Simpsons and the seven o clock news
- where it doesnt get a mention

(c) P.J. Murphy 2005