Brian Kirk

Food Lover  

It rained all day, the hours began to drag,
I fed the dog and tried to eat something
But since you left each mouthful makes me gag.

The bottles on the shelf to me they nag,
But wine will only make my stomach spin,
It rained all day, the hours began to drag,

All food now only tastes of stubbed out fags.
I want to eat, I know I must be starving
But since you left each mouthful makes me gag.

Drink only ever makes me fight or brag,
It never kills the pain or soothes the sting.
It rained all day, the hours began to drag.

Before the open fridge my spirits flag,
The pasta and linguini taste like string
But since you left each mouthful makes me gag.

Till you come back to me the time will lag
I miss you love and (of course) your cooking,
It rained all day, the hours began to drag,
But since you left each mouthful makes me gag.



Town Foxes

How did we get here, knowing what we are
and what we need to live?
This place that we call home
offers us nothing but still we remain,
scavenging and cowering by turns
among hostile hosts.

Vermin they call us, rabid plague-ridden curs,
and would have us slaughtered,
where once they named us noble,
cunning, wily, even sly.
We are foreign to our natures, delirious,
fearful to the last,
unwanted immigrants.



 

Brian Kirk is a poet and short story writer from Clondalkin, Dublin. He was shortlisted for the Hennessy Awards in 2008 and 2011 and the Over The Edge New Writer of the Year Awards in 2008 and 2009. He won the inaugural Writing Spirit Award in 2009. He has been highly commended in the iYeats Poetry Competition in 2011 and 2012 and the 2012 Bare Hands Poetry Competition. His work has appeared in The Sunday Tribune, The Stony Thursday Book, Southword, Crannóg, Burning Bush 2, Revival, Boyne Berries, Wordlegs, Bare Hands Poetry, Cancan Poezine, The First Cut, Abridged, Shot Glass Journal and various anthologies. He blogs at http://briankirkwriter.com