Minor Poet, Unemployed by Peter Adair

In the seventh chamber of the dead

where Osiris crouches on his throne,

a young man shuffles into line


and hears through marble walls

precise beautiful words –

Hardy, Eliot, Yeats –


words to comfort a damned

soul.  But what price today

a post-colonial reinvigoration


of a dying tongue,

an ecocentred debate

on modern pastoral, the periphery


of the ascetic?  All that balls

he studied with excess of love.

Mythical allusion, the oblique


lyric…At 9am on Monday morning,

half-crazed, he recites it in a verse,

laughing at the end of the line


while Anubis weighs the scales

and Thoth inscribes the fate

of half the youth of Europe.


I live in Bangor, N Ireland. Poems have appeared in The Honest Ulsterman, FourXFour at poetryni.com,The Stare’s Nest, Snakeskin, Panning for Poems and several other online magazines.


One thought on “Minor Poet, Unemployed by Peter Adair

Leave a Reply

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s