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)

Tom Kelly © 2010