My Latest Poem

'Third-Leg District' Bulldogs observe Mice play without strict ID and curiosity do everything it can to kill. Mad stream Drool flows into the canal and will never meet coral but would be more than cordial if it did They easily spot the tiptoe-rust on the high-heel strut below tip-top shape. and whimper over the mess that's made.

Mr. Kavanagh knew the scoop!

'Memory of my Father' Every old man I see Reminds me of my father When he had fallen in love with death One time when sheaves were gathered. That man I saw in Gardner Street Stumbled on the kerb was one, He stared at me half-eyed, I might have been his son. And I remember the musician Faltering over his fiddle In Bayswater, London, He too set me the riddle. Every old man I see In October-coloured weather Seems to say to me: "I was once your father." (Patrick Kavanagh)