Another poem I wrote a good while ago, which was prior to the Good Friday Agreement. Let’s hope the choice of leaving the EU will not disrupt the peace in this once-troubled region.


What magic spell was woven here

When, from out under the green baize

Covering the Antrim table,

A remnant from another meal

Spewed out unhealthily

Turning from red to gold to grey;

As, doused by the sea, it cooled, cracked

And lay dead. Order from chaos

A natural cemetery of

Natural symmetry

Perverse symmetry, mounting up

As, one by one, and tit for tat,

The gravestones go back up the hill;

The remnants of chaos.