Kickstart Your Heart

Here’s a list of my latest poems. Go to Kickstart Your Heart to find them all!


  • Athanasius’ Third Arrest, 356 A.D.
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    Holy Coptic chants solemnly resonate, somnambulant Eastern liturgical drone: heaven’s hope echoing off stone church walls. Cassocks, candelabras and kiot*, gold-tinted. Altar and icons by incense clouded, praying priests half-hidden by holy haze, God’s grace spice-suffusing the sanctuary.   At midnight mass, Caesar’s dark legions came smashed the sacred, bolted doors, slashed with indiscriminate swords, pagan... Read more »
  • Horse Show Scenes
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    Poem and photos based on experiences of the Royal Dublin Society Annual Horse Show Slight the scent of wax-polished leather, equine royalty boxed-in, tethered; dunged-straw sweet wafts from stalls, echoing announcements over speakers call. Girls command horses, fifteen hands high, tight jodhpurs and jackets make most males sigh: blond-hair, blush cheeks, so snug their jackets; wild-eyed horses rear,... Read more »
  • This is Where I first Believed
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      Architecture in Victorian style, gallant hymns, strained smiles: few assembled believers, old-fashioned and ever eager; Sabbath spirit static, prayer sincere, pragmatic.   Scripture texts in Gothic script, pilgrim people gripped by heavenly hope proposed, platform preacher posed queries: idols and curses refuted by bible verses.   Lone brethren, battle besieged: message mocked, unbelieved by secular modern minds – “How can they be so blind?” Truth’s tiger timid... Read more »
  • Why am I hated by Hindu high caste?
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    Why am I hated by Hindu high caste? Why throat choked, sharp blade-slashed? Why my skull summarily smashed?   Why the invective, why the insult? Sectarian sentences from Vedic cult: sadistic smirks, tragic end result…   Lynchings, rapes, and acid attacks, hear hyena howl, murderous pack – bullied untouchables daren’t fight back.   I’m Brahma-damned Dalit, my sandals sink in putrid pits, I  purify... Read more »
  • I’m not saying bikes are better
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    Let’s swap our seated places, quit honking horns and pulling faces, let’s all extend some kinder graces.   Lets both not break red stop lights, let’s not trump wrongs against rights, let’s pray none have to say last rites.   Let’s both apply our brakes and gears, let all admit their faults and fears, let’s show appreciation: say “cheers”.   Four wheels... Read more »
  • Lawrence Coster: The Apostle of Printing (c. 1420)
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    With willow wood you wooed your beau, setting her heart and mind aglow: solitary-seated by canals you etched, then slowly the sharp blade sketched lovers initials intertwined, sharp incisions on branch birthed blessings: Eden’s vision.   This lover’s present then parchment-wrapped, carved cyphers secretly sang, summoned sap: overnight it oozed from peeled willow wood, catechist-craftsman created an imprint good; then came Gutenberg-bible,... Read more »
  • Hope Drunk Hearts
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    Easter Springtide – Vitali Linitsky (Russian painter, mid 70s) ___________________________________________________________________   Ancient terror prophecies, torture proven true: brow mock-crowned, blood-barbed thorns, carpenter’s palms, nail-pinioned, chiselled through – legs smashed, ankles anchored on cruel cruciform.   Eerie sun eclipse, dread-dark that slaughter scene, Christ’s carcass buried in a borrowed tomb; male followers fled, female friends stayed to keen... Read more »
  • April First Fools?
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    My wife wanted a Spring-born baby. Holly Hemmings was announced stillborn by the maternity hospital, ten days before her birth….We had prayed for a miracle. Holly was initially delivered by me, at 1 am in an isolated room, on April 1st, April Fools Day. Her little brother,  aged almost four asked:... Read more »
  • Shaftesbury, the Poor Man’s Earl
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      You shrewdly observed the pathetic poor that begged, brawled and slyly swindled; compelled by command to unlock doors: jubilee justice and anger slowly kindled.   Children slept under weaving looms, tugged wagons in deep coal caverns, choked in chimney stack soot and fumes; parents wages wasted in gin taverns.   Your proxy mother was mindful maid who whispered nightly maternal... Read more »
  • Bless, O sonic saints!
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