Image © Enda Conway 2019
|by Trevor Conway||April 26, 2019|
Now that we take these streets together,
this city buds with fruits to savour.
Before, its bland mysteries
were dense as the voices we heard.
Their dialects were dark as coffee,
and we believed this stone was dirty
as a coin embedded in grit
below a rain-soaked kerb.
In any capital, you’ll find
a kind of anxious begrudgery
among those who visit from lesser towns.
Red-bricked corners seem to laugh
whenever you twist your neck.
“You don’t know,” the Liffey says.
“How does that feel?”
Its reptile blood flows at Kilmainham,
where history drums the beat of bullets.
Some lay here, like scrolls unravelled,
their hoarse cries the desperate pleas
of those who couldn’t be at peace
Both our families are dusted
with the chalk of rebel stories,
men and women who whispered and ran
in sight of a foreign coat.
But we only ran in Temple Bar
when we realised at Dublin Castle
that our bus was parked in the other direction.
No more sweat now.
We never stray,
tethered at a steady pace
Trevor Conway writes mainly poems, stories and songs. He also cuts his own hair, though maybe with less success. Subjects he typically writes about include nature, sport, society, creativity and interesting moments. His first collection of poems, Evidence of Freewheeling, was published by Salmon Poetry in 2015, while his second, Breeding Monsters, was self-published via Amazon in 2018.
I’m an artist who works mainly in acrylics, marker, Indian ink, colour pencils. When I’m not making art, I’m usually writing fiction. I went to art college in my native hometown of Sligo, Ireland, and have a degree in Fine Art. I see both fiction and art as two completely different mediums, but I find it interesting when they’re forced to sit together—such as book covers, film posters, comic books. In fact, I’m currently making paintings based on my favourite novels and short stories.