SO LONG... The world unspun, the music gone a week upturned, and hope withdrawn, we gained a fool and lost the one, the man of word, turned into song. The heart is broke, when love is gone a bird cries lone, before the dawn, on darkened wire, it's shadow long, like the man of word, turned into song. A letter written on paper torn of love and hope where breath is drawn and held in depth until the morn, for the man of word, turned into song. Against the dark, a lonely swan swam against the tide and travelled long, to say goodbye, for the time had come to the man of word, the man of song. My little #poem for Leonard Cohen who died one year ago today. Ciaran Cunningham - Nov 2016.

ODD SOX Nothing had never been noticed when old John did disappear He'd been cussing and singing rebel songs When he got throwed out on his ear. No one there had missed him or his stinked of piss odour. He'd rarely broke horizons Laid flat back drunk upon the floor. No one looked for Johnny not knowing that he was lost No helicopters swirling No searched unnecessary cost Nothing was knowed about old John than he’d drunked his days away He'd ended cut and tore about But never did he ever pay. His #life be known were tragic When John had lost his way He'd rarely sobered from the drink Since Mags had passed away. John and her were lovers who fought along the way but there’d never be a question that John would ever stray. When her illness brought her home John roared ‘fuck’ alot He gathered up of all her bits but it added up to naught. On the day old John were found Some lads were skiting rocks When they happened on some worn old boots Stuffed rough with torn odd socks. He lay among the broken reeds drowned days before the date Mags had long now held his hand their path laid out by fate. No one came to see John off Not one had ever missed Old John be back with Mags only woman he’d ever kissed. #poem #love

AT LAST Today could be that day, the last day to be awake, not woken, to have dreamt, in dreams, mostly remembered , and speak in words, mumbled, not spoken. Today could be that day, the last day to live a #life alone to eat a meal in burnt abandon and drink a drunken drink at home. Today could be the day, the last day to smell the second-hand smoke and watch the dripping, setting sun, with no one but, the strangest folk. Today could be that day, my last day to fall in deep asleep, with a kiss goodnight, just one last time, and dream to remind me now to keep, you, in my thoughts, forever.

GONE NOW The silent strain That starts the fight The dried up tears. That blinker sight. The thoughtless words That cut so deep The memory lost That make them weep The lonely spells That both resent. The trust that was That now is spent. The conflict shared That can't be won. The shadowed cries, That hide their sun. The swears they spat That caused the drift The child they lost That built the rift.. The dried up tears. That cloud above now part to show,, The end of love

To Choose If I could, side by side, with an eagle, soar, or crawl, mouse like, under barn door and run and chase, with crafty cats, like Pangur Ban, I would, If I could, I would, sway, in the way, a flower grows, and drift and swim with trout, below, between the rock and river flow, I'd stop, and breathe, out, and more, and wonder why I'd not before. If I could, I'd flutter by, quiet in sideways butterfly, of blue, and damn the chaos that might ensue. If I could, I'd run, I'd run 'till heart thumped loud, and breath was done. then rest in shade in squinted sun. If I could, I'd love, like paired up white entangled dove, and sing of #life in song so sweet on twisted branch above. I would, I know, but now in time finite, I tick and tock and watch for clock, and wait. If I could, like a dolphin stop. just stop breathing, I know I would, and drop below, then, if i could, I might feel more human.