3 new poems from Robin McNamara

Robin McNamara – impspired

You cannot lose what you’ve wanted 
If you’ve never had it. You cannot 
betray what you’ve never had.

And after darkness’s thrall
Comes morning’s fall of heart.
Torn apart. The beggars remorse,
The lovers lament. Damned 
With craving for something distant,
For something gone. She’d sing 
Her songs from a distance. Velvet 
Voice with all kinds of black to soothe 

Those fevered minds long lost 
In the hollow of the dark to stories 
of false prophets, who the night declined. 
A torn Nirvana. You. Temptress of the mind. 

I can taste, the fruit of your lust.
The holy man, oh, how how he raged.
For I had dared to preach 
In tongues of fire and desire, of all my sins;

In this ancient language of your ancestors. 
And the fire. It is endless. It is endless.

Dirty Hands & Paper Cups

In the grip of an icy day in
Christmas glow of seductive 
lights from designer brands
in shop windows we passed 
the flow of human traffic.
Two laneways thick on the pavement 
in bobble hats and devotional worship 
of the gods in their hands.

And then we passed a shadow 
of another being, greyed, black 
and quite as night; illuminated 
with the decay of society. Hands 
of mercy cupped for crumbs of your 
conscience in the season of goodwill, 
as you rush for things you think will 
blind your passing indifference. 

The Ghost Poet

Snakeskin songs along the Boulevard 
Groove in a husky voice. Whiskey  
breath and the death of poetry from
fast addictions. The Native Indian he
was a wise man inside my soul. 
The Ghost Dance/ the Ghost Dance/
shedding my skin in a dance of trance. 
French kissing tequila bottles, the Indian soul screams: no more! 
                                                                       It’s the end of the night.

A Poetry Showcase for Robin McNamara

A Book Review: Robin McNamara – Under A Mind’s Staircase

Published poetry by Robin McNamara from “Under A Mind’s Staircase”

A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Robin McNamara

2 poems by Robin McNamara : New York city ain’t you just so & Holy Fires of Religion

Poems by Robin McNamara : “Here in the Woods” & “Sandpaper of Shame”

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

1 comment

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: