Tom Kelly

Two Poems

Green Clock

His breath putters,
apes the gas fire.

Solicitor makes notes:
dates, jobs carried-out, contacts…
He forces replies.

The green clock
bought last Christmas
five minutes fast.

Walking Without Yeats

Looking behind the wall:
cramped hawthorn,
mess of defaced carrier-bags,
sunken half-empty cans and note:
‘Two bottles today.’

Pox marked earth
along with me
derives no pleasure slouching
nowhere near Byzantium.

Two poems taken from the forthcoming collection Somewhere In Heaven (Red Squirrel Press) http://www.redsquirrelpress.com

Tom Kelly © 2010