Poet Commentaries

My Favourite Children

Time of Your Life Photography

Dave allowed me to share these poems about or from children. Take the time to read together and watch the effect of these poems.

Dave Kavanagh

A Child’s World View From Below The Waist

There is a tang, sweet and bitter,
treacle and malt, burnt sugar,
tobacco smoke, oaken casks and bog.
The bite of hops, intoxicating to me
in its exotic seediness.


The bar top feels
like the waxy coat of old soap,
a finger nail scrapes initials
in the tarnish of beer stained lacquer.
palms tacky with the residue of over -flow.


There is cadence in the dance
of the plump barman, an orchestration
of economy, coordination in hand and arm
that draw swirling fraught from silver taps
to settle into girl hipped glasses.


Amber liquid that reflects sunlight and spume,
the stink of fishermen’s overalls
and farmers dust stained boots
brings light and air into the darkened room.
Death stands smiling by the door.


A Nettlesome Weed Grows

I’m not a fit in mothers arms,
my bum bones are too angular
on the belly of her knee.

I’m scorpy, a scratchy nettlesome
stinging thing.

There is no settle in me,
I toss and turn and toss again,
an ocean flows deep in my bones,
primordial lays coined in me.

I am random as March,
a breeze that can’t find north.
A petulant self-seeded weed of war.

Trap me, box me up in desks and things.
Scrape my knees on wooden chairs.

Protect yourself!

I am fury that will not sit, the rift
that rips the fabric of your world
I am a stink, and leak
through the concrete of your cell.

Your doors and walls of voice and force
are nets to shred with teeth and claw.

Capture me with words, with chapter
or the wonder of a verse
letters will tame me,
chain me to a daydream of your earth.






hope unfurling,

stirring a womb
of raw red possibility

shimmering above the rime
of frost seeded cells,

nucleus clenched

the folds of sex

a future star orbiting
within the kernel
of a half dead thing.

Follow Fragrance of Sage on
%d bloggers like this: