Master of Compromise
I’ve been sailing this ship
Named Compromise, amok.
Twining into far horizons,
Scraping paint off destiny,
Buffeting my way across
An otherwise still mass
Of cool, clean water.
Lurch again! Another landfall,
Skidded, unreliable – what the hell
New found land is this now?
Sleeping, dulled under woodchip,
Catacombed, marooned on patchwork,
Beached in history, a test case
Of the burbs – electric light Pompeii.
© PJ Nolan July 2005
A statement about my mother who has died
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It has been 2 weeks and 2 days since my mother died.
Such is the nature of mourning. Every day counts. Each days brings us
farther from the incalculable ...
6 days ago