Well now. I've been a-walking the inner wilderness this last few weeks. Beats sleeping in airports, I guess. Really haven't had the wherewithall for blogging, nor much else beyond the necessary and rudimentary. Yet the poetry bus trundles on, and a new prompt from glorious sonicists The Watercats referenced one of my all-time favourite groups, lyricists, musicians and songs - so the universe reached out across Babylon, you could say - and here's my ting!
Lugh's weapon buried in its sack of dope
dark light under a bushel
a hunger drowned in dregs
If every sleeping spear's a gift
perhaps the loss of that vainglory
may yet prove to be the kinder cut
© P Nolan 2010
(My image above is a response to a 'memories' theme on Scamp.ie)
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