CELESTE P.J. Murphy
If I could
induce Zeus
to rearrange
the heavens...
I'd have the
night skies dappled
with your eyes
And the dawn
adorned
with your smile.
dusky descendants of quixotic mutineers perform practiced perfected polynesian dance erotic on soft Tahitian sand my hands drip with dregs of spilt exotic citrus sundried by lustrous lagoon insidious hynotic tune and rhythm consume dancers, semiclad, gyrate, waves lap... shrill shriek shatters mood of quietude Rude awakening Rainy Irish Monday...~~~~~~~~~~~
Moonstruck P.J. Murphy
Okay, I appreciate that you've
been always there for me through each long tortuous, restless, sleepless night And brightened up the gloom each time I broke down when some floozy made my fickle foolish fragile heart a mess And yes, 'twas you who kept me company when no other friends were there to offer comfort in my deepest darkest night But, right now I just feel That I can't furnish any answers to your sad fixation with this fiery, feisty object of your lust I must point out to you, in fact that you have chased this hot and haughty goddess, with no ray of hope for thousands of millenia now And how much longer, my pale friend Can you sail sadly through the night hoping for a glimpse or sight of she who always dodges you till dawn? And ~yawn~ you know it's really late I don't feel great and need my sleep I'd love to keep you company but We both know she'll hide until you're gone Just one last piece of genuine advice - there are millions out there who are twice as nice, and like to hang around with you, I've even seen them swoon... So goodnight moon, aw - please don't cry There's plenty more stars in the sky... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Goodnight Moon",
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.
Never terribly far away, they clamour constantly to make their presence felt.. Suppressed, repressed, bubbling just below the surface, they jeer this veneer of stolid, solid middle-aged respectability "Hush", I tell them this is not the time nor place to show your face and we are not as young as we once used to be I guess I'd always just assumed that they would fade away and die dissolving with the remnants of my long-lost misspent youth But no, they tease and taunt and pester, these ghosts of rampant yesteryear. "Someday", I promise, "I will let you out to play again". And then, By God, let the world beware... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Where the Wild Things Are"
"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? )
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inert gases tout tawdry titillations Illuminate paved paths to hellish haunts Bad intentions in sin soaked stagnant pond Lurid invitations dazzle - guzzle, gamble drink, debauch... illicit felicity, fun and frolic unfurled in neon netherworld ~~~ Disenchanted denizen forges Ford forward - final glance at pallid promises - - Gomorrah still glows gaudy Firefly flits, points pathway to reality, to civilized enlightenment In rear-view mirror Babylon burnishes fainter, ever fainter Along with it's delusive dreams ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Errant Panther's Race - Round 3"
Pressing onward through unbreathable crystallized air - feeling in most limbs long disappeared Lower digits blackened, inside thick snowboots - gangrenous concerns pushed to back of numbed consciousness Team-spirit the driving force - the team unfortunately reduced by one - interred in icy grave with scant frost-hurried ceremony Ultimate destination still several hundred miles away but driven, like this frozen, solid air, forced by Arctic winds into reluctant, pneumonic lungs, they trudge northward Thoughts of home - wives, children, parents, friends - pushed to backs of tired, demented minds focused on the quest to forge claim to a barren wilderness - for a country and a world who could not care less.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Moraine and Poganip", and won the Gold Trophy for first prize www.pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com
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, 2005pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com
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 2005Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Brick-Red'
For more than a score of decades In dusty Xian they guarded him faithfully protecting him as he had planned this boy, this emperor The Unifier of all under Heaven architect of a Great Wall Preparing his immortality At twelve tender years gathering this imperial army - soldiers, horses, chariots marshalled in preparation for the impending death of the King of Qin Now in a Shaanxi mausoleum curious visitors throng to the unearthed tomb of Qin Shi Huang gaze with half-interested tourist eyes on this defeated terracotta army. The mighty fearsome custodians of China's first all-powerful ruler Toy soldiers of a long dead child.
Note: This was an entry for one of a series of colour-themed contests (this one being Terracotta) on Allpoetry.com. When Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum was discovered, there was an army of full-sized Terracotta soldiers, horses, chariots buried with him in the tomb, which now constitutes a museum at Shaanxi province, Xian, China. (c) P.J. Murphy, 2005 www.pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com
Memory of paschal purple. Fat candle lit on lenten alter. Pennies for St. Anthony's box and light a candle for a soul. Glow of piety tastes sweeter than the sacrificed confections Stations of the cross feeling the pain of the thorns on this poor scourged Man The weight of the wood bearing heavy on 9-year-old shoulders as I fall for a third time Confession in the drab mornings early before school Purge the dastardly sins. Lies, deceit and disobedience, selfishness and greed He died for these, for my transgressions Palm strewn church entrance "Hosanna in the highest..." but I know how this will end Why do they celebrate? Wednesday's heinous betrayal leading to that calamitous Friday Kiss the feet on the cross return to kneel and pray Wait until the crowd has gone Perhaps they'll find me dead here my pure soul ascended straight to heaven Like the story the nun's told Easter Sunday - he has risen! Triple mass - two stoic hours No hurry home for Easter eggs I know that my redeemer liveth and sins are banished and souls are cleansed P.J. Murphy (c) P.J. Murphy 2005
In another town, another country She sits, cross-legged on the parquet Smiling as she reads an email from her son on the laptop he bought for her birthday Presently she'll go out to the porch, read a book, put her earphones on He wonders if she still likes Steinbeck or plays Cohen, maybe Doctor John In a corner of her memory do they still walk that raindrenched pier? In a corner of her heart is there a flame, In a corner of her eye a budding tear? For that frozen moment when the Gods Capricious, callous and perverse Decree a storm of words, a thunderbolt Thus sundering the universe He doesn't know her mail address Her son's called Ben, or is it Steve? He could look her number up, I guess But what the hell would that achieve? Slice of life from another time Before the new world would begin Are her memories still shrinkwrapped Or grown stale and powder-thin? In another parallel existence Are their hands and destinies entwined In some futuristic astral plane Is her soul with his aligned?www.guitarsongs.info
Sodium Bicarbonate Cimetidine, Bromazepam There was a time when these were not a part of what I am When gastroscopy might just as well be probing into space There was a table of the elements where Barium had its place My bodystore of chemicals was supplemented only by quantities of alcohol, nicotine curry pies and mushy peas... ... and other 'drugs of choice' a distant voice in some strange dialect mutters something like .... 'cause... effect..?' P.J. Murphy Copyright ©2004 P.J. MurphyWebsite: http://www.guitarsongs.info
Do I really need this signpost on love's highway This beacon over ardour's ocean This festival of passion's patron saint to remind me that I love you? My love for you is eternal Conceived at eyes first meeting Fanned by loves young flames Burnished by your radiant beauty Grown more, as my child-woman bride then child-mother, constant by my side Our love defeating all life's challenges Soaring upon it's many triumphs I know it as my truth that I will love you All through this life and beyond...forever... However... I proudly, loudly say I Love You, on this St. Valentine's Day P.J. Murphy (c) P.J. Murphy 2002Website: www.guitarsongs.info
