a cul-de-sac of poems

A Wake

“History is a nightmare from

 which we are trying to awake”.

                                  James Joyce

I woke up this morning

And the blues were on

My side.  I woke up this

Morning and I felt doped

And drugged and drained.

That was until I saw the blue

Sky.  I had my tea and toast

and tablets ( my five a day)

 drove out to Lough Neagh

And seen the blue sails

of this poem stand erect 

and sail away, confined 

to the acre-age of Ireland  

locked into a mythical port.

I’ve got to break free from

This mooring of tradition

roped into a mythical

mindset.