Ian Kelleher works in the CAT club in Cork (the Cork Arts Theatre) where he is a Box Office Assistant and spends his time dreaming up of song ideas and poetry which he publishes independently on Amazon, and through websites like The Galway Review and he has also printed a paperback copy of one of his books.
Discombobulated
To solve life’s problems
Figure out a Rubik’s Cube
In a labyrinth.
The Masterpiece
When God had his heart broken
The pieces were like jewels.
He gave a piece to each of us
To get us through a life so cruel.
I put my heart together,
Every broken piece.
It will never be finished,
The masterpiece.
This heart I have cut open,
Love spills from my veins.
And though the heart is joyful
Still love becomes a stain.
I put my heart together,
Every broken piece.
It will never be finished,
The masterpiece.
The pharaoh’s daughter bathing
Where the papyrus grows wild.
She takes the heart of a hidden baby
And turns to blood the Nile.
I put my heart together,
Every broken piece.
It will never be finished,
The masterpiece.
This heart is perfect;
You can clone it from a single beat,
But if you give that clone to another
She will take everything you feel.
I put my heart together,
Every broken piece.
It will never be finished,
The masterpiece.
This heart leaves a trail on the highway
Where I drag it from town to town.
The burden has grown so heavy,
In the autumn the heart turns brown.
I put my heart together,
Every broken piece.
It will never be finished,
The masterpiece.
Fly
A fly settles on my desktop.
I swat him
With
A
Notebook.
Now who shall write these poems?
Bon Appetit
When I’m with you I’m wishing
On a suicidal star,
The moon it has been very fishing
With a bootlace and a scar.
Can’t you see I’m gnawing
On my knuckles like a bone,
I feel your fingers clawing
Where my heart has turned to stone.
We can take the pocket moon
And spin it like a coin,
The devil impaled on a spoon
Is God’s favourite pawn.
By The River
It’s a fresh, crisp morning
By the river in autumn.
I wonder who taught him;
The spider who makes webs out of dewdrops.
Majestic, miraculous.
Spinning silk patterns
From Mercury or Saturn;
Brush away the webs to plant a tulip.
Will you go for a walk by the river with me?
We can walk along by the Owenabue.
Will the birds fly away?
Go south for winter.
Leave your nest of splinters;
My feathered friend, life through a lens is clueless.
Will you go for a walk by the river with me?
We can walk along by the Owenabue.
Lots of boats in the harbour,
Waves have travelled farther than the moon.
Fields of gold, combine harvester,
And the summer is on its honeymoon.
Sitting down by the river,
It’s magic nearly put me to sleep.
The water is so deep;
Where the river meets the sea a mouth with blue lips.
Will you go for a walk by the river with me?
We can walk along by the Owenabue.
Will you go for a walk by the river with me?
We can walk along by the Owenabue.
The Galway Review 