Kevin Griffin lives in Kerry. He is a retired teacher, and always has written poetry. He has poems published in Riposte, Revival, The SHOp, Anthology for a River and on the online magazine Thefirstcut. He had read at The Whitehouse in Limerick, Obheal in Cork, An Fheile Bheag in Dingle , Poets’ Corner in Tralee and I has been on the poetry bus in Fermoy during their festival in July.
Two poems by Kevin Griffin
BOULES ON THE BEACH
An little bit of quiet Paris,
or quieter France, played
on the confusion between
grass and sand.
A few black berets,
the reek of Gauloise,
the clack of the boules,
the eclater de rire,
a portable peace
faithfully lived,
on an accommodating evening.
Thursday , July,
Rossbeigh beach,
before the deluge.
A LINE TO DRAW
What place is this you have created,
the flora is appealing, chosen well, that’s you,
and this the long, curving avenue
with a gradual rise to casa blanca at the top.
Where do I fit in?
Will it have daffodils in the spring?
Now, the fountain spills in the wind
and the crows’ nests look like black full stops.
How am I part of this?
Why this grotto? Is it a memorial?
Is that a wreath?
I am wearing that grey scarf
you insist I wear.
Am I out of service?
Keep on, you hiss, as I veer away,
aware that I am on the skyline,
now, I am in silhouette, and you skip and chirp,
alouette, gentile alouette,
alouette, je te plumerai,
You are cruel even without strings.
On whose side is that wind?
What will the sunlight do?
Where has beauty gone
now it has left our eyes.
I have been undone.
The Galway Review 