******OUR POETRY ARCHIVE******: KERRY DONOGHUE

Thursday, March 1, 2018

KERRY DONOGHUE

THE BLUE BEFORE THE DARKNESS

There’s a time in winter, just before dark

When the sky turns a deep shade of blue

And it’s then, more than any other time,

That my thoughts return to you.

Perhaps it’s the sense of finality

As the bone-chilling cold sets in

Knowing that darkness waits in the wings

For its time, centre stage, to begin.

That blue shade signals the last gasps

Of life from an all-too-short day

And sharply reminds me how bereft I felt

On the day that you went away.

Our time together, too, was brief

The light began fading too soon

And I became enveloped in deepest blue

Knowing before long, you’d be gone.

With your departure came the inky black

In whose depths I shall remain

Until the time comes for it to exit, stage left

Letting light shine, unhindered, again.

ODE TO A FELLOW COMMUTER

You were noticeable because you were so unremarkable,

If that makes sense; though I know it doesn’t.

It was a contrived, studied blandness

Like you had to make a concerted effort , just to be ordinary.

Five days a week, every week, without fail

You boarded the train carrying the same leather briefcase

And the wooden-handled umbrella, even in the height of summer

I guess you just never know when it might rain on you, do you?

Sensible haircut, co-ordinating shirts and ties but nothing outlandish

You didn’t want to look flashy; just smart.

We shared the same tube train carriage every day

for the four stops between where you got on and where I got off

But you never once showed any sign of recognition

You carried a newspaper but it lay untouched on your lap

Im sure you must have had a phone; everyone does these days

But you never looked at it and it never rang.

You simply sat, staring into space, features arranged in a neutral expression.

Did they teach you that at school, I wonder?

I began to invent a life for you outside of the tube train

A neat bachelor pad with lots of chrome and black leather

A game of squash on Tuesdays with Nigel

A cleaning lady, to keep the place tidy and iron your shirts

Maybe she even chose the shirt and tie combos for you.

But there had to be more to you than that,

The studied blandness had to be a cover for something

A dark fetish?

A secret superhero?

A psychotic alter ego?

I almost asked you, once, in a second of insane boldness.

But I couldn’t make the words come out.

Soon after that you stopped taking that train.

Did you move away?

Did something awful happen?

Were you caught out in your dark pastime?

I guess I’ll never know.

But wherever you are, and whatever you’re doing,

I hope you’re okay.

I miss you.

RESTLESS

There are times when I feel so restless

I could crawl right out of my skin

Like a snake, just shed my outward casing

And reveal what has long lain within

Cos I feel like my restlessness stems

From a sense of being confined

In a body that cannot give life to

The limitless dreams in my mind.

If I could cast off the sensitive skin cells

And the fragile muscles and bones

My heart and my soul would be free to explore

All the worlds in which my mind roams

I could soar way up high like an eagle

I could rule the depths like a shark

I could hang with Cleopatra in ancient Egypt

And sail with Noah on the ark

Past and future would lose all meaning

I could transcend all time and space

To get to wherever my restless being

Could temporarily find its place.

MEN, FROM A WOMAN’S PERSPECTIVE

So I’ve written about women,

Fairly easy, cos I am one

But I don’t want the guys to feel left out

So I’m gonna have a go at

Putting myself in your boat

I may be off the mark, but hear me out.

You see when I was a kid

With silly notions in my head

I saw guys as something I should fear

I was always shy and awkward

Never putting myself forward

Rejection wasn’t something I could bear

I thought guys were worry-free

Breezing through life, unlike me

Whose mood was always cast in shades of blue

But in my self—obsessing gloom

I failed to read the room

I didn’t notice they were struggling too.

It was only as I got older

And very slightly bolder

That I dared to have some honest conversations

With those guys who’d seemed so lucky

Men, from a woman’s perspective (cont’d)

And that was when it struck me

That guys, too, have their own preoccupations

Maybe not the same woes as us

But every bit as serious

And maybe even worse cos “boys don’t cry”

No matter how it hurt them

They’d be told “Be a man, son”

And keep your sadness bottled up inside.

Guys are expected to be tough

And stay strong when things get rough

Though it shouldn’t be, it’s still a common theory

But that Y chromosome

Doesn’t make you all Stallone

And thank goodness, for sameness is so dreary!

So fellas don’t feel bad

If you don’t look just like Brad

Or have Hawking’s brain or Richard Branson’s money

If you’re kind and true and honest

I can absolutely promise

That if you want to, you can find your perfect Honey.

KERRY DONOGHUE

KERRY DONOGHUE: Kerry lives in Glasgow, Scotland where she has worked as a commercial lawyer since 1998. She has been creating poetry for decades but has only recently begun to commit it to print. She is an only child and an extreme introvert with a fondness for good wine and scented candles. Her favourite poets are Robert Burns and Alan Ross.