Sunday, October 16, 2011

Poetry workshop Duanesburg, NY October 14-15, 2011


Poetry workshop
Duanesburg, NY
October 14-15, 2011
Some contributions
By Patrick M. Doyle


The Power of Words

And what if my words
cut you off
strangled your voice
silenced the truth
struggling in your
secret heart

And what if my words
were not true
masking what was
struggling deep in my
secret heart

And what if my words
were true
and spoke to your
secret heart

And what if my words
caused pain, hurt, doubt, fear

And what if my words
could not heal.



Four Ayem
La nuit porte conseil"—French proverb.
                                   
The Greeks had a word
or two
for it: chronos, kairos

Time—tick-tock, tick-tock
You tick me off!
Talk!
Talk!

A pendulum
Slowly, inexorably
Slicing away my life

tick-tock, tick-tock
tick-tock, tick-tock

Be here now!
anxiety, depression
no time, no cure
wasting time
killing time
kairos, chronos
circular, linear
circles and lines
tick-tock, tick-tock

Depression lives
in yesterday’s house
Anxiety lives tomorrow

tick-tock, tick-tock
back and forth, back and forth
slicing, slicing

a straight line
to the graveyard
inch after inch, after inch

seconds, minutes, hours
the measuring goes on
days, weeks, months, years
it doesn’t end until
we count the shovels
full of dirt
needed to fill the hole

tick-tock
            tick
                        tock
                                    tic…





Learning to play

This is hard
I want to be serious
Create! Create!
No—let go!
Just be!

Slooooooooww
d
o
w
n


there…
            that’s
                        better.

Now, shift gears
Get up
Get going
Get the canoe
out of the barn
and paddle away
to nowhere
in particular
Just for fun.


Learning to play 2

A little gold spider
dropped by the other day
Rappelled from the ceiling
to the floor
As I lay in my bath.



The Exchange

It lies just
beneath the surface—
sub-liminal

the line is fine—
but it does
exist

Don’t go there!—
because it just might
hurt

too much, to bear—
the weight of my
conscience


when I almost—
turned my back
on you

but in the end—
I came back
and held your hand

not because I wanted—
or duty called—
it just was

and you held my hand—
and gave me more
than I ever gave you.



I like to live in…

Barbados and eat fried chicken
on Baxter’s Road late at night
And in the morning take
a sea bath and drink
Banks beer before noon
because I am on holiday
and Uncle Jack who is
Trinidadian always winks
and says “first today
in this glass”
And then we laugh and
eat piles of flying fish and
Callaloo and macaroni pie.
I like to live in Barbados
at Christmastime where
we sing “I’m dreaming of
a bright Christmas” and
go swimming in the
Caribbean Sea after a
dinner of pudding and souse
with all the trimmings.