Traces Left Behind

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Jimmy O'Connell
Posts: 866
Joined: Thu Aug 17, 2006 10:14 pm
Location: Ireland

Traces Left Behind

Postby Jimmy O'Connell » Sat Nov 18, 2017 2:55 am

Traces Left Behind

Crossing at the traffic lights in Parliament Street,
and making his way over Capel Street bridge
he processed in priest-like dignity bearing,
in one hand, a just-opened tin of John West
sardines, and in the other, a white plastic fork.

He vestured a power-blue business suit-jacket,
a faded open-necked white buttoned-down shirt,
and trousers paper stiff with grime; he had the gaunt
middle-aged face and demeanour of a solicitor.

No one took heed of him, no one smiled, ribbed,
or turned to snigger at his sockless feet as he padded
the asphalt, the rubber soles of his Adidas runners
dragging like perverse flippers behind him.
Oh bless the continuous stutter
of the word being made into flesh
-The Window-
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mat james
Posts: 1761
Joined: Sat May 27, 2006 8:06 am
Location: Australia

Re: Traces Left Behind

Postby mat james » Sun Mar 18, 2018 4:06 am

hi Jimmy,

I enjoyed your take on the moment in time.
Your shrouded, vestured imagery brings an element of the divine into play...and then the ambivalent cast of fellow walkers, oblivious to his presence...
I really like the poem. The more I read it, the more it took me...there!

...to a western (Irish ?), new-age wandering Sadhu, by the sound of it..

I like the fact that you, the Poet, are also almost indifferent to it all...we are left hanging between acceptance and repulsion on several levels.
I say "almost", because of course you are not indifferent, because, after all, you did write the alluring poem.

kind regards,
MatbbgJ.
"Without light or guide, save that which burned in my heart." San Juan de la Cruz.
User avatar
Jimmy O'Connell
Posts: 866
Joined: Thu Aug 17, 2006 10:14 pm
Location: Ireland

Re: Traces Left Behind

Postby Jimmy O'Connell » Tue Mar 20, 2018 12:37 am

Thanks Mat,
Appreciate your response.
It was a moment that I felt we had to not forget the forgotten.
Oh bless the continuous stutter
of the word being made into flesh
-The Window-

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