3 Poems 3 Collections

Backstreet Beethoven

A saxophone floods the alleyway
organic melodies fill up the slit of a lane
creased waves lapping
rolling
down
rebound
echo against echo
sonic collisions
haunted and romanticised
memories
false and real
resurrect themselves along the drowning
concrete corridor
time traveller footsteps bridging
the chords
copper coins
erratic tip-taps in the top hat
drumming a sporadic jazz
touching fingerplay solidified in metaphors
by
the idle reminiscence of the listener
who breaks his daze to fish a silver disc
and add another beat
to the music of the street
From: Urbania
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FC4822C

Love Poem

Only madmen dance under the thunder storms
only sinners seek forgiveness
only poets crave the pain of solitude alone in the darkness
I’ve been trying not to think about you
putting you on a pedestal of dreams

Only madmen dance under the thunder storms
only broken hearts can heal
only children are truly innocent
alone in the crowded room I’ve been waiting for you
telling everyone how I didn’t love you anyway

Only madmen dance under the thunderous sky
only lost souls can find their way home
only Romeo would die for Juliet
I wait for you to wake
whisper ‘I love you’ and laugh as we share the joke

Only madmen dance under the thunder sky
only the most bitter enemies could once have been friends
only a stranger knows loneliness
alone under the dark stratosphere I dance
and scream at the sunless heavens
only a madman would love you

from: The Pagan Field
http://www.amazon.com/The-Pagan-Field-extended-E-ebook/dp/B00F395DAU

 

Destined to Follow Him Down

Two sit on a stone door step
low
slow motion movement
buildings are trees creeping upwards around them
darkening the sky until it is only a grey rectangle
his eyes are nightlights
dim reflections
just about keeping the worst of the world out
ticking over
burning out

He’s got a sausage for a nose
broken with punches and kicks
his face is coal-mined as if bled of colours
by some medieval cure for social dis-ease
his arms are blue on bone
all these wounds mark him out
“Junkie Scum”

Get in your pigeonhole
rats of the sky with clipped wings
now We pavement-judges can cope with you
feel assured
look away
walk on by
let someone else
something else deal with It

She’s almost invisible
a nestling hiding behind a parent
small
untidy – pretty once
dare a stare closer and there
bright blue eyes
she is still alive

Some sense of hope
fear
longing
not yet numbed by the needles of the street
but
destined to follow him down
she needs someone to hold on to
never learned to fly solo

Not yet gone
but not far to slip into the waking death
someone could still save her
a Jesus freak or social worker too new – still cares
another boy
who wasn’t a coward and spoke up
instead of moving on like I did
1st July Dublin 2004

I wonder if she made it out?
From: Cityscapes http://www.amazon.com/CityScapes-Urban-Poetry-Steve-Downes-ebook/dp/B00KDLBK0K

Side Angles_Steve extened ed cover with prose The Pagan Field cover resized 600x400 Urbania Cover 4x6

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