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Best Poems Written by Patrick Boyle

Below are the all-time best Patrick Boyle poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Why

I still hear    the stray cat clink of your teeth
       smell    a rage a brewing
        feel     tension build

as we sit silent
frozen porcelain figurines
emotionally hollow 
fragile
about to crack 
like ice on the drivers side window

front seat getting cold
wipers counting silent pauses
conversation, stalled

making life changing decisions 
someones future hanging on words
that will not come out no matter how I try

stuttering explanations about wa wa wa....why?

why     I did it
why     it happened
what    your gonna do about it
how     you gonna seek your revenge
when   can I expect retribution
how     long will it take my flesh to heal
are      plaster casts biodegradable?
is        there gonna be a police report 
are      they gonna arrest me for your violence
might   they be serving baloney sandwiches
who     will post my bond?
will       I be to macho to tell Officer Friendly
would   he even believe me?

searing into my torso
then memory
a drifting apart
like a parent and child
awaiting the smash
the smash

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Attic

The lights have been turned on
in the attic
Someone has flipped the switch
exposing
cobwebs, caster oil, crutches
newsprint and cheap china
Which I'm hesitant to touch
least it falls apart in my hands or
cracks like the blue Robin eggs
I once tried to store in my pocket.

I know I should begin cleaning
but I dread the cobwebs
and I'm allergic to the dust (I tell myself)
that's been layering for fifty years 
Undisturbed 
I am
Disturbed 
by the invention of
long lasting light bulbs, showing me around
no, they wont burn out anytime soon
and I will open a window
letting in the city sounds
that drown out the adults 
fighting downstairs 
distracting me from my chores.

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Seated At the Right Hand of the Father

Good
at hiding 
it
won't know to look at
handicap
disability
embarrassment, worse than bad breath

must have smacked my head against something
when I was playing good cop, bad cop
and I was the suspect
guilty of something 
no doubt

Taken 
downtown
for interrogation
on why 
we didn't finish everything on the plate

Taken 
downtown
to the experts
on why 
this sorta thing keeps happening 

Taken 
down 
to a low spot 
on the carpet
that better get clean Right Now mister

Taken down 
to the Department of Motor Vehicles 
where you flunk the eye test 
because you've got a 
permanent
detached 
something or other 
which explains a lot

Like why I left,
why I lean left
dress to the left
get left holding the bag
feel left out
but don't see left 
because father is always right  
father is right handed

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Cancer

Cancer
                                      By Lynn Boyle 1956-2014

Cancer is a monster
it has taken my
  
            Mind
 
            Beauty

            Joy
        
            Pleasure

            Trust

It has seared my skin off my body

It has broken my spirit

It has destroyed my hope for any future

It has taken my identity

My independence

And left me


           Waiting for death

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Year of Living Dangerous

just missed that
jagged
sidewalk 
crack
earthquake caused it 
Bobby said

A jetting eye
caught the rocker coasting
to and fro
on a sad white porch
March 1968

They said you were crazy
and to steer clear
but I gave you an apple
producing a smile
a laugh
and the freedom to just be

We Kelly'd around a lamp post
losing track of time 
in the warm twilight
of childhood 
and life
then you shared with me a secret

a tree, knot, hole

that held a mother load
of silver
foil

and we were richer than rich
till my dinner bell rang
while your hidden voices sang
in March 1968

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Mary

great aunt, kissed me yesterday
after bidding fond adieu's 
to fleeting flashbacks of youth

streaks of invincibility 
stiffened her spine when a gentleman came calling
courting her future
a legitimate suitor
awkward member in good standing of the 
Chicago Fire Department 
A man unaware of the elements due to generations of Irish breeding
mule, mick, jackass, workhorse, turf-cutter, 
he responds to all equally 
stones of rough leathered hands... make him free 
to cast a roving eye, flash a quick smile
share a wink with a girl hanging laundry out back to dry

aunt kissed me today, longer
holding on to that sweet floating feeling
that anything might happen 
and would
when the Holy Trinity cuts her a break
if Paddy can turn the other cheek
oblivious to water that Mary's mother threw off the back porch
onto his only brown suit 
onto his pride
onto Halsted Street
bright Sunday morning in June

The triplets had ruse in motion
ascetic, etched from strict culture
preordained her new life of solitude

Paddy, fresh off the boat
wet behind the ears 
soaked in shame
never came back
auntie grieved
unwed
will always kiss

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

This Thing We Share

Long enduring eyes
I bring you tender flavor 
to live inside 
cover sad limbs 
sad nights 

a shaken wall falls when I call to you
asking for fruit, whispers, slow smiles 
nothing more
yet everything I give, is given 

resting with sorrow, under seas
seldom dreaming 
a reach through memory 
bringing one last harvest
our shy bounty 
embracing a pain not made for solitary lovers 
but for us 
this thing we share

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Rising Sun

Rising Sun requires my 

labor 
muscles 
sweat 
attention 
masculinity 

I give it

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

Falling Leaves

Falling leaves 

announce colors 
pronounce change 
demand sweaters 
shelter 
hot tea 
stories 

available upon request

Details | Patrick Boyle Poem

8 New Ways of Looking At a Blackbird

Eight (NEW) ways of looking at a blackbird
Inspired by the poem, Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, by Wallace Stevens 


I.	
The blackbird tilted its head
and lakes froze in anticipation

II.	
The blackbird is self aware
I know this
The blackbird knows I know 

III.	
The blackbird shifted its wing
and the sky shivered

IV.	
The blackbird can only dream if it fly’s
the blackbird can only fly if it dreams

V.	
The blackbird broke the silence
all things are now possible 

VI.	
The morning glories bloom
In late autumn
In my throat is the song of 
the blackbird

VII.	
Frozen pine cones, 
falling in slow, cold motion 
into endless white 
the blackbird watches, 
amused

VIII.	
A thin horizon halves the earth 
one of woman, one of man
both dwell under a watchful eye 
of the blackbird


PB/JPN