The song of a half remembered self
is out of body proof of once being there.
Green shoot thoughts
push through my mind's leftovers,
what seemed by day of some import
at night looks trivial.
Red letter days recalled
first hormonal stirrings
childbirth and mothering,
a satellite always circling others.
Along a path of wakefulness
Morpheus at last come creeping,
bringing sweet oblivion.
From Pink Flamingo - New and Collected Poems by Ita McMichael page 98 Impact Printing ISBN 0-948154-446-2
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2 comments:
Hi Ita, I just happened to click on the Ireland link on my own blogger account and your blog came up on the first page of thousands of links - presumably because of the poem you've just posted.
I'm delighted to have found you, a fellow poet - and one who like myself is Belfast-born.
I'm looking forward very much to reading your online poems.
Thanks for your comment Veritas. I am so pleased you enjoyed the selection of poems from my pubished work - they are simply an insight into my life and thinking. Belfast had a great influence on my life and it features in many of my poems. I am unable to write poetry anymore so I wish you well in your own writing. Regards, Ita.
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