An Easter Wind

in the maze of morning
light congeals
like crystal cuckoo spit

eyes blink
slick with sugared sand
a nursling of mine nestles
in sweet straw asleep

silken hammocks
green deep beds spider webs
and ship bells ring
deep down deserted fishing ground

good-will runs out
on their neap tide
but their songs shine like sun
saves me from sloth and sin of suburbia

a balm of bumble bee hum
sooth an ear that’s heard
the whistle of to many roads
beneath my wheels

mountain voices
feels like miss carol king
crooning softly
on a stinging skin

the easter wind creeps in
a chilling crack of window
mr mellow jockey
spills piano notes from my radio

a flashing twist of road
tapers out
towards a memory
called she

     -Dave Kavanagh

All-Hallows Eve


Drunk on 
autumn’s grape 
and pear

October flourishes 
a careless brush 

Spatters blood 
across a naked 

And scatters debris 
at her feet 


In his passing 
tosses faces 
to the air 

Sends palmate 
shadows tumbling 
on the green 

A wildness lights 
his grey and amber eyes 

In the skies 
summer’s shine 
fights the dour dark 
of winter days

His voice is heard 
from the bow waves 
on white lace seas 

And through the 
susurrating branches 
of wind winnowed trees 


Death he paints 
in shades of red 
and burnished 
copper coins 

The blood 
the gore 

The glory of 
the ill defined

The ragged threads 
of dead men 
hang from sycamore 
and maple. 

The worlds ablaze 
with setting suns 
and pagan’s holy songs


Until he packs 
his gay portfolio 

Erases all the vibrancy 
the dancing fools
the painted clowns 

He frowns 

And with a breath 
of gale 
the green is skeletal 

     -Dave Kavanagh