Limerick Portraits

The sun could speak to
Those walking the city
Streets, the wind skimming white
Plastic bags like waves and rolling
Crushed cans like pearl-laden
Oysters and does, through shifting
Pirates treasure and shadow, stranded
With winos stumbling unaware in
A hidden depth of sandy pavement
Fleeing the watery, urban crash of the big
Green street washer.
The rain could speak to
Those trapped by the cyclone of
Swirling autumnal leaves and bitten
By the dust flecks on their braced bodies
While the world seems to move like
A glassy, T.V hurricane and does, when
Umbrellas move sharply from hands, the
Breeze catching and plastering hair to the
Shocked foreheads while the eye passes over,
The grey storm blanket rips blue.
The ice could speak to
Those wrapped bundles of children, laughs
Prickling the silent air, noses sniffing like
A boxer eating the blood…of red cheeks in
December, the air alive with clouds and catcalls
And bets for after school when the sky would
Melt silver and pour it for shaping onto ragged
Frosted treetops with a hammered clang like a bell
Echoing around a church tower.
The stars could speak to
Those scenes of a silhouetted cityscape, the fairy lights
Dotting the lines of brush-stroke roads and painted in
Figures and sounds breaking through, the colour faded,
The world asleep.
The limerick portrait could speak to anyone.

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Biography

I am seventeen and currently in my first year studying Arts at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick. I have been writing to
varying success for several years now. I feel writing both defines and suits me best although it will be a while yet before I properly hone the skill. I hope to write full time in the future. I have lived in Limerick all my life and it is a beautiful city behind the headlines and the grime. There are people and places here that inspire me every day...