SEAMUS HEANEY - R.I.P. New Poem by Strider Marcus Jones. Copyright & All Rights Reserved.

SEAMUS HEANEY

even his hair and clothes

were poetic-

the strands and fibres

blowing and smelling

phrasing words

digging up roots

of beauty and violence

from umbilical bog

hosting the bones

of victims buried

clutching peaceful seeds

to throw on troubled fields.

that liquid lilting voice-

like mist and sunlight

on soil and mud

turning tales to truths

speaks like celtic circles

on sacred stones-

in estranged language

returning us to landscape.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. 30th August 2013. All Rights Reserved.

HOPPER'S LADIES - New Poem by Strider Marcus Jones. Copyright & All Rights Reserved.

HOPPER'S LADIES

you stay and grow

more mysterioso

but familiar

in my interior-

with voices peeled

full of field

of fruiting orange trees

fertile to orchard breeze

soaked in summer rains

so each refrain all remains. 

not afraid of contrast,

closed and opened in the past

and present, this isolation of Hopper's ladies,

sat, thinking in and out of ifs and maybes

in a diner, reading on a chair or bed

knowing what wants to be said

to someone

who is coming or gone- 

such subsidence

into silence

is a unilateral curve

of moments

and movements

that swerve

a straight lifetime

to independence

in dependence

touching sublime

rich roots

then ripe fruits. 

we share their flesh and flutes

in ribosomes and delicious shoots

that release love-

no, not just the fingered glove

to wear

and curl up with in a chair,

but lovingkindness

cloaked in timeless

density and tone

in settled loam-

beyond lonely apartments in skyscrapers

and empty newspapers,

or small town life

where gossip guts you with a knife.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones, 7th August, 2013. All Rights Reserved.