Ian Kelleher is a singer-songwriter/poet from Crosshaven, Co. Cork. He graduated from University College Cork with a degree in Music, and currently works in the Cork Arts Theatre as a Box Office Assistant. He has self-published some of his poetry, and released some of his songs on Youtube, Spotify and all other streaming services. He has also published some of his poetry books on the Amazon website.

Pablo’s Musicians

The clarinet sings but he’s poor,
On the streets he’s begging for more.
The singer has stolen his pay,
Guitar out of tune all day,
Oh, guitar out of tune all day.

A melody captures the soul
Of the people, but the begging bowl
Is empty from morning till noon
And the evening is singing a tune.
Yes, the evening is singing a tune.

The monk is growing a beard
And the harlequins clothes are weird.
The clarinet plays sing-a-long,
Three musicians, they just don’t belong.
Oh, three musicians, they just don’t belong.

Sun Beam

The sun is Spanish,
The super sun.
Building castles
Is so much fun.
A scarab beetle;
It weighs a tonne.
Chariot races,
Hit and run.

Melodic colours,
Kaleidoscopic discovery,
Won’t you set me free?

I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
Won’t you beam those songs to me?

B+
Be positive,
Songbeams
So talkative.
Sol Invictus,
Armies won.
Figure out
Formula one.

Melodic colours,
Kaleidoscopic discovery,
Won’t you set me free?

I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
Won’t you beam those songs to me?

Food for the heart,
Love paradigm,
Worm in the brain
Exits in time.
Metronome bells,
Starting to chime,
Tangible dreams,
Spirit world pantomime.

Planet Earth
Is green and blue,
Sea of fish
Monkeys too.
Moon is yellow,
Purple bruise,
Red sunset,
Orange hues.

Melodic colours,
Kaleidoscopic discovery,
Won’t you set me free?

I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
Won’t you beam those songs to me?

I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
Won’t you beam those songs to me?

I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
I want to be a sunbeam,
Won’t you beam those songs to me?

Fierce Blues

You have a smile like a crescent moon.
One eye closed; a photo.
A happy heart is a teaspoon;
Stir colours of the rainbow.
She once dreamed of Helen of Troy,
A teacher who lived like Cervantes;
Tumbled a story ’bout James Joyce,
We won a poetry contest.
And I was drifting from job to job,
They said I’d never make it.
Trying to be a singer like Bob,
My blue notes were so counterfeit.
Fierce Blues,
I’m in like with you.

Your lyrics don’t really suit you,
Or maybe you don’t suit your lyrics.
You’re as good as anyone in your peer group
Except you were never really accepted.
You don’t look like you could be good,
Though they say it’s not about looks.
You’d have to be thin, with hair; you should
Give up, you can’t learn music from books.
Don’t give up your queer job,
You’re so arty-farty.
A whatchamacallit thingamabob,
Forget the argie-bargie.
Fierce Blues,
Your mama still loves you.

His girlfriend went to Germany,
Got married to someone better.
He was a wizard, thought she was Hermione;
But she sent back his love letters.
He was high on altitude;
Inhaled cumulus up in his airplane.
Built a snowman who loved solitude,
She danced with him in the cloudlands.
He went down for fourteen years,
Music was no punishment.
Pulling songs out of his ears;
Denied a fear of abandonment.
Fierce Blues,
That girl never loved you.

I saw him lying in an empty room;
I’m his muse, imitating people.
I send him the lyrics, dust my broom,
A cross on top of a steep hill.
He played more like a typewriter
Than the guitarist Satriani.
Ye’re sabre-toothed singer-songwriters,
Gypsy-rich Romani.
His papa built his house with work,
The boy was just daydreaming.
I visited him in North Cork,
His study was redeeming.
Fierce Blues,
It’s not the same if you’re not cool.

So now I’m going backwards;
This time I’m out of my mind.
I kissed her in hospital wards,
I never was unkind.
She was just an illusion,
Acoustic folk, they generally will
Come to the conclusion
It was pills and thrills and ills.
My mind, it tries to predict
Future circumstances;
A tragedy, a play, a script,
Imaginary romances.
Fierce Blues,
At least you got the tune.

Leonardo

I wish I could be a genius,
A Florentine painter with a high IQ.
Painting a beautiful picture of Jesus,
Heaven is the colour of lapis lazuli blue.

It’s easy to remember the four turtles,
Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael and Michelangelo.
The Vitruvian Man in a square and a circle,
How could it be done by one man alone?

I’d like to invite you and your friends
To come around to my house for a last supper.
I’d order a pizza, it’s this weekend,
In the north in Flanders I got a left-handed pizza cutter.

If you were alive today you might be using your brains
Doing animation for a Hollywood movie.
Or trying to beat the levels of Super Mario games,
Or dancing with Michelangelo so groovy.

Did you make love with the Mona Lisa?
Moaning and moonlighting on the night shift.
I could write about that for my Diploma thesis,
I wish I could paint; you have a special gift!

Even the thieves love your paintings,
They’d steal them and sell them on for millions.
A master forger seems only in training,
This’ll be a job for the Sicilians.

If you invented a time machine and came to the future,
You could see all your paintings in the museums.
They could take you up in a helicopter,
You’d see all of Italy, even the Colosseum.

Mirror writing, you studied anatomy,
Secret notebooks, pen and ink on paper.
The universal order, inventions, astrology,
A Renaissance man, art imitates nature.

A master of all crafts
The enthusiast, visionary personality.
I wonder if I could beat you at a game of draughts!
Through your work you’ve attained immortality.

Epilogue

Guitar with hand and bandages,
Bleeding from my fingers.
Strings, sighs and voyages,
Music softly lingers.

Borrowing this loneliness,
I cease to exist.
Hair just like a lioness
Now that I’ve been kissed.

The fire covers me with flame,
I’m burning now, my love.
The sun is dark, now, with shame,
Blushing high above.

Strange that I should live this life,
Singing this lament.
On the mantelpiece a knife,
Just an ornament.

The devil somehow blesses us,
The knife will not be used.
My veins are much too precious
To ever be abused.

I read the story of creation,
Adam filled with sadness.
Guilty by association,
I am filled with madness.

The rain is falling from the heavens,
The moon is bright and clear.
The night is like the number seven,
Counting stars and tears.

The sky is suffering, twilight
Is bringing out the creatures
Who howl and hunt through the night
With demonic features.

The shadows stalk in solitude,
Soldiers, they’ve been stifled.
Sorrow, melancholy mood,
Heart and soul and rifles.

The smoke unfurls like dancing figures,
The barrel brightly gleams.
The grim reaper pulls the trigger,
The gun begins to dream.

Statues moving, wandering,
Flowers, coins and prayers.
Villains make an offering
To compensate nightmares.

Kisses drowning in the ocean,
Frenzy of desire.
How curious the notion,
Kisses form a choir.

Memory twists like honey,
Remember she was naked.
Her body, blessed, sweet as money,
Breasts have become sacred.

Spider spinning silk and pity,
Web, dewdrops of water.
Insects sprawling like a city,
Poison, fangs and slaughter.

Poetry digs with a spade,
Thorns around my neck.
An ace, a jack, a king, a spade,
Who’s shuffling the deck?

The dice, they have been loaded,
And the game it has been fixed.
Passions have exploded,
Drowning in the river Styx.