Monday, 20 October 2025

Six Poems by John Doyle

 






Eamon

All the money you made/Will never buy back your soul 

Bob Dylan 1963


The sudden end of the light

and Coventry and Dresden's stench at night and the imprints of light on the negatives of film -


and that ambulance flash blinding the souls ascending this dark,

and the horrible sneer of the closedown sirens


and the blues that the sky's sanguine lungs gargles and moans,

and Valentine's heart charred in a burns unit filing cabinet


hushed in litigations and tabloid rumour,

and you, nowhere to be seen.


Shame, shame, shame.

Sorry Eamon, bad news, you're not real anymore, 


no speech, no scream, no wail 

from the pockets of your gold-fused overhang;


and when they said that butter didn't melt

we knew who's guiding hands had shown you to the door -


dust from stellar scapes

five hundred and eighty thousand reasons


that you'll wriggle and writhe 

in Dante's bonfire


for now -

and for evermore;


not really the kind of place

where a soul stays silent,


but plenty of lawyers and grassroots lackeys,

to keep your butter from ever melting



Cumbernauld, North Lanarkshire: June 1980


A tilted camera's virgin duet

root their ruffled dance to a peach-lips sunset,

to freeze this Caledonian alchemy, to let Gregory and his truest girl become spirits in these trees…



Jack Cassidy's Death Was Morbidly Fascinating


Mortals gather, as smoke stains their breath,

as blue screams space though night's clusters, 

as Naugahyde becomes a noun creepy and toxic in its mystery.

I see some angels cleanse rage amongst the smoke,

and Jack, while not having been at home some time, resumes to mow his lawn

clad as God presented him, whistling tunes 

perhaps Peter Falk or Lucille Ball

had shared - but Naughahyde - that noun angels and mortal

sludge their wings right through : it hangs like bad-souled cowboys

on the light that Jack's aura must force his senses through, unclothed - perhaps not there at all



Enemies : Both Foreign and Domestic


Light biting skies makes darkness harder to see;

by the snoring river we’ve riddled a bronze and easy peace :

this alarmed us, evil lay face down, air was a sin, 


what kind of nails could we hammer 

across the silent caravan?

A wriggling song, a moon's lazy dream, whispers that water's innocent?


she tried to drown a silly year but the river was angry with the sun;

the angry river hearing dusk's lies about sins darkness commits -

Voluptas is known for cheating at poker, or perhaps it’s just easier for the boys to blame her




Ina Dhiadh Sin


Is é glas an dath an tsíl,

is é dubh an dath


tar éis don síol na fírinní a fhoghlaim - 

an saol, 


an bás, 

fuil dhearg na talún, 


agus coirp bhána na síochána, 

ina dhiaidh sin -  folamh, gan a síol…


na síolta scaipthe

agus an bhratach stróicthe sa cheathrú;


glas, dubh,

bán, dearg


Barrat Qisarya, 1948




Of All the People and Things in This World I Have Loved, Few Come Close to You and Them


The ocean under the sun

made me red with holy water, simple and crazy -


still : it's not Thursday;

some wires are woven in this wreckage of forgiveness, 


some acts of wars are the weakest rats expelled from their nest.

So your language feeds dark around stars? - if you listen,


you'll see an alphabet become a dream, a dream that murders weaker dreams.

So you listen, and I am nothing less than that dream.


I stayed in this hotel once,

me and this out of towner, out of this world;


The starlight was smooth when I removed the windows

to forgive the light, 


the starlight was smooth like these stones 

I'd find on the beach


to bring to her. I wrote a ticket for my death 

as I watched an angler hip deep in his heroics or his stupidity,


so I died for him so he could see his Laurie Bird movie

wander through jeans ripped on a barbed wire fence on a shooting star.


She may yet write those same lines 

from her lips or her skin or her broken bottle tango


that's invisible on these ocean beds 

we've imagined would be softer in our deaths; 


but we have movies to make - or watch or consume.

A crab smaller than yesterday patrols an inlet, 


Ned Maddrell roars a poem from Ellan Vannin

I pretend that silence after my song is my biggest ally. It's an option, it's the best one, kid.






John Doyle is from County Kildare in Ireland. He returned to writing poetry in February 2015 after a gap of nearly 7 years. Since then he's had 7 poetry collections published. His 7th collection, "Isolated Incidents" was published by Pski's Porch in Summer 2021.

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Six Poems by John Doyle

  Eamon All the money you made/Will never buy back your soul  Bob Dylan 1963 The sudden end of the light and Coventry and Dresden's sten...