I recently opened up my blog to the work of other poets and the first I am delighted to feature is Irish poet, Kate O’Shea. My hope is to explore what other poets are writing about the environment, nature and animal issues. These three poems of Kate’s are rooted beautifully in nature.
Here is the entreaty to those who grow old
with gardens in their heads do not be enticed
only parts of us touch others – like fruits
fallen to the ground we rot separately
eventually hair and roots measure
our absurdity in air and soil the blowfly and worm
loyal companions on the journey
the slaughterhouse is here all around us
and over there
endings are not square we are becoming irrelevant
books and bestsellers authors and librarians
we talk about cryonics even as the ice floes melt
banking transplantable organs space travel
maybe we could freeze a polar bear
I love a man who loves his wife
carve his initials on the keys
of a piano playing Questa Notte
only I hear the music
winter storms denuded all the trees
everything natural is bare
water is glass no insects here no bees
I decant wine and argue
with the shaman
under my bed as you sleep
not to disturb the sediment
poets are intent on death
but mostly suffer cold feet
wear window boxes as slippers
which look and smell good
throughout the year
The monarchs obey their ancient insect brains
head south through New York City every autumn
to their winter roost in California or Mexico.
That is something you could emulate.
A forest orange with a million wings
like segments of the fruit.
I taste the tartness on my tongue
eating butterflies drenched in sunlight.
It’s not right you are night and winter.
Are we less extraordinary than the caterpillar?
Pre-programmed and in pupation
the larva and the imago?
Letting go would mean there is nothing
not even nectar-sipping ethereal creatures
Kate O’Shea lives in Dublin and likes leopard print and faux fur. Simple sentence. Noun, noun, noun, bangs on about poetry.
Google Kate O’Shea poet. Here is her most recent poem online.