(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

Up There With Walter De La Mare- In Praise Of My Lady’s Voice

It’s neither
here nor there


the most beautiful
spoken English
belongs to Walter de la Mare.

And me
(hee hee)

as Irish as
can be

love him
for it.

But soft
a lady has entered
gently into my life

and speaks of love
to me.


Her voice
kisses me

(caresses me)
with its beauty.

And I
listening enthralled

as any Prince in any fairy tale
could be.

Even were she to say; say:

“I think I will wear
my white summer frock today.”

as ecstatic to the ear

as seeing her

her white summer frock
is to the eye.

The beauty of her voice doth make me cry.

Or if she were
to call me by my name:

“Donall…Donall...come...come! ”


“Touch me here...there...there! ”

I dive into
the waters of her voice

its ripples
closing about my body

swimming through each
& every syllable

drowning not only
in the Love she speaks

so beautifully of
but oh...

the how of how she says it!

Again, it’s neither
here nor there

but she’s up there
with Walter de la Mare.

And I

love her

for it.

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