Guest poem submitted by Frank Maher:
(Poem #1015) Corsica
(Before the Walk) Curtains fluttering by an open window The coffee is already steaming downstairs Looking out at the mountains Light brown yellow and high In the early sun It's the end of the summer All the tourists are gone You stir on the bed And that annoys me Prettier than the morning I can't remember why I Don't want you anymore. (After the Walk) Soaking in the bath The mirror is dripping The door half closed All I can see is your toe Resting on the silver tap Your body is sunk I imagine A shipwreck In shallow (warm) waters Arms of soft (wet) wood Thighs to hang Flags from And breasts that float Like buoys Waiting for the tide to turn The moon is in A low see saw arch Over the mountains Spilling milk On the slopes Comforting a cow With a bell around its neck Lying on the bed Looking at a brochure You ask me to join you Two alligators Resting The door is half open The window is closed I see a hair Under your chin Bubbles on your shoulder You smile and that annoys me Prettier than before I can't remember why I Don't want you anymore
I'd love you to post this poem by the Irish poet Gerard Bacher. Compared with Heaney and Yeats he is not widely known but he is well respected in Ireland. He was born in Cork in 1957 and achieved his first public notice with the publication of a volume of poems entitled "The Western Star" in 1978. His subsequent battle with The University College Press in Cork over his next volume "Ulan Ude" led to his move to Achill Island off the west coast of Ireland where he lived until his untimely death in 1995 after a car crash. As a student in Cork I had the pleasure of attending his English classes. He recited "Corsica" at the start of my first term and it made me stick with the English course. I felt warm in those words, the rest of the day was spent thinking of that bathroom in Corsica. I think I skipped biology and went to the old college bar instead... one of those poems... Frank.