Archive for April 10, 2012

“Veritas” a review by David Agnew


A review –

This is a book which surprises and delights in equal measure.
Little slices of life so precisely described that the reader is left with a wry smile or a grimace or a wince of pain or a burst of laughter. These poems touch the reader in a way that only poetry can.
It is a surprise to learn that such assured poetry is a first collection from someone writing in a language which is not their native tongue. I am full of admiration and look forward to reading more in the future.
This is a book to keep on your coffee table or on your bedside cabinet to dip into when the world has become a little bit difficult to cope with. You will find humour here and succour too. It will be enough to take your mind away from the concerns of your every day.

David Agnew  (Belfast David)



You are there somewhere in this same room, this local concert hall
that is almost demolished
that’s a cathedral
built for gods

The smell of rained coats and tobacco mingles with your scent.
I know it is your scent.

I feel your eyes heating up the skin of my neck,
where my white shirt starts,
the India shirt that you liked much.

That tremble of your forehead vein,
it must be resonating now with the two violins
that are in practice before the concert
and I can hear your heart beat
over that of the testing drum
across the noise of two hundred
shuffling feet and some friendly conversation.

How does it feel for you to see me now,
after the break up in the snow,
the others, the quarrel, the phone call.
So much has passed in time,
and time fades all sharp edges,
even if you want them to stay sharp,
you sharpen them on a stone,
to feel deeper pain of love, I know
how you like to suffer, feel
impossible love, you find it romantic.

I do want to forgive. If you do too.
Yes you are there somewhere.
We need to talk perhaps, or better

We all take seats,
the conductor lifts his arm.
Now all is silent
just before the music starts,
that moment in between
expectation and outburst in crescendo,
I turn around and in slow motion
see the back of your head
while you leave again.

The concert starts.
A deadly noise is overtaking the evening.
The roof falls in, the earth opens, all is forlorn
and I die before the end of first session.

NaPoWriMo : “Nomads in pain”


It hasn’t been an easy way
out of the deep. We came from far.
Bewildered we are till this day.
It hasn’t been an easy way
and maybe we’re not here to stay;
somehow we made it, where we are.
It hasn’t been an easy way.
Out of the deep, we came from far.

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