Clouds at sunset

POEMS BY GEORGE PAYNE: Irish Moon, Vow, Amy and more

Irish Moon

Wounded
among her trees,

it’s 3:20 a.m.

I ponder her
as a long pour

of Guinness
on a slow night.

Vow

heal with her
bend with her

have faith in her
next breath

land with her
imagine her

be in love with her
belong to her

without hiding
under her altar

Amy

I honour you

Your fierceness
and devotion

To family and friends

Your calling to be a teacher
and your love of nature

Of God’s creatures

Your sense of humour, too
I honour you

the place in you

that invites the beggar
to stand for what is

How you strive to respect

those who disagree with you
I honour your light

Your grace

A beauty that brings light
to every space

I honour our friendship

Our children
and the way

you make me proud

How to Render the World

Get your fingers messy
with charity.

It’s making Grandma’s meatballs
from scratch.

Get the egg yolk, oil and onion
in between your fingernails,

massaging the neck rolls
and foot cramps of the poor.

Independence

Cross-legged
by a ventilator

I sank my toes
in the trout hole
and hummed

“Bye, Bye, Ms.
American Pie”

and the blue morning
grew dark, as the
river stopped breathing.

The World May

need poems again
in this time of survival
like tin can sealed
peaches in a root cellar.

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image: George Payne

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