Previous RealNewMusic Poems

RealNewMusic 2008

"Waiting For Snow To Fall" by Sean Gunning


A brain fizzing with nothing
Even faintly audible
Or remotely palpable
Its dim light bulb flickering
A day’s last breath going out
Numb from counting syllables
And re-cycling scribbles
And adding more crossings-out,
Barely emitting a glow
Closing up shop for the night
‘Till the bell tinkles just right
And softly sounds the word snow
Whose soft wet splash on her ear
Asks like a small humming bird
Could this be just the right word
You’ve waited all day to hear?


RealNewMusic 2007

"Fastball" by Tom Callinan


Pay attention.
You will see it.

Einstein on the Sports page!

See the photograph.
The athlete. A professional
trained to never take his eyes
off of the ball. And yet

there it is
blurred in the periphery,
stretched slightly, sunlit orb,
frozen acceleration.

Now look at the eyes,
fixed, focused, in the final
moment before this crowning
achievement, the eyes
gaze into an empty
space.

It’s gone, you see.
It’s gone. Before he can
even perceive it.

Still lightning cracks
out of the blue. A thundering
ovation sweeps the shimmering surface
of his skin.


RealNewMusic 2006

"This Moment" by Eavan Boland

A neighbourhood.
At dusk.
Things are getting ready
to happen
out of sight.
Stars and moths.
And rinds slanting around fruit.
But not yet.
One tree is black.
One window is yellow as butter.
A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
this moment.
Stars rise.
Moths flutter.
Apples sweeten in the dark.

from In a Time of Violence, 1994
W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, NY
Copyright 1994 by Eavan Boland.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced with permission



RealNewMusic 2005

"Surprised By Evening" by Robert Bly

There is unknown dust that is near us
Waves breaking on shores just over the hill
Trees full of birds that we have never seen
Nets drawn with dark fish.

The evening arrives; we look up and it is there
It has come through the nets of the stars
Through the tissues of the grass
Walking quietly over the asylums of the waters.

The day shall never end we think:
We have hair that seemed born for the daylight;
But at last the quiet waters of the night will rise
And our skin shall see far off as it does under water.


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