Wednesday 14 June 2023

Four Poems by Anthony Fagan




Nails bitten, ashtray full.

Still waiting……no new messages.


“The Vodaphone customer you are trying to reach may have

their unit powered off or may be out of coverage, please try

again later”.


Take a shower, brush the delph,

Fresh coffee and buy the paper… new messages.


171, such a curios number. Why pick that?





I kissed your lips, your closed eyes,

I kissed your glistening mound.

Salt, sweat and sweet, sweet abandon.

Tumbling laughter and breathless wanton-wild.


Still I smell you in the bed, 

Although you're gone a long long time,

It brings a smile, a longing sorrow,

Tearful sleep, this sad folk rhyme.





No one notices me

now that I'm gone, 

So quickly forgotten, so quickly left out. 

It's harder now that time has passed....everyone assumes I'm ok, 

that I’ll be ok. 

It's not easy being cut off from all that I was before.


So I put a brave face on it…..I put a brave face on it.





Furled pleats, Autumnal leaves

trim and neat, girly touches.

No shaving brush or smoke stained fireplace,

no periodic tables or half-split motorbike engines.


Sweet smells, clean and tidy, 

a lonely guitar never played.

Wheelie bins stand to attention

in neat, ordered rows, like Beefeaters.

Suburban countryside, fresh air.


Cast iron bed, sturdy, comfy.

Big pillows and hearts,

A paradise of flesh, ecstasy, tears

and laughter. Entwined in flight.


Children laugh and play in the street,

The “Red Hand” flutters overhead, whispering

‘all is well’, ‘all is well’.

The weekly roster hangs on the kitchen wall.

Ordered time.


By mid morning the driveways are empty.

Full employment, trellis and flowers.

No teenagers hanging on corners, smoking and

telling jokes.


Oh how I love to visit the doll’s house,

I want to but I can’t stay……

Anthony Fagan ( Nom De Plume) - Is a Musician from Dublin, Ireland and been writing his ‘little ditties’ now for more than 20 years. They represent different times in his life and so they range from happy love poems to the melancholic and empty. 

1 comment:

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