In Deference To Heaney


The August light shrinks faster now

We have to settle for the night

We commit to memory, getting older,

Your purity of thought that was our light

You, camera obscura, your 

Dry stonewalls and gritty Mossbawn clay

Showed beauty in the weave of things 

Even sorrow’s cutting edge could have its way

You’ve slipped that inconvenient shroud

We liked to think we knew

The suit-clad stance, honest smile

The resonant, blaming words from you  

You’ve transcended that axiom – out there in the dew

We mortals, can only murmur, wait, and hope it’s true

We are without; and must take the savage cost

For us, there is no beauty now we’ve lost

Your perfect, angled, prism of a mind

That conveyed a light of beauty to the blind

©Gerry Tully 2022

On Hallowed Ground

So, what of all this music, the big to-do?

After banjo Barney’s gone and

my Mother and father two 

The world’s turned in on itself for good 

My ballads call – but no-one comes

Just me haemorrhaging the blood 

of the past into a made-up, materialist desert 

swamped in sex and trancing drums

Look at me now. I’ve pierced my own illusion 

Out-lived my dream, become my own delusion

Ran full-tilt since childhood when I departed, 

and returned a stranger, to the place I started 

I tore every muscle and sinew to reach a world  

and find it badly faded by the clock, not by me 

Had I the power I’d climb it now

I’d stand where I’m supposed to be

And scatter all the fakes pretending to be me

©Gerry Tully 2022

Journey From Within

After searching, languished bitterly

Slept one hour only, every day

And fear its ghastly choke-hold in my way

I was unborn, unknown, hidden in the world

Finally I knew the need to reconstruct

Renaissance light is merciless and abrupt  

I a crucifixion, for a week or more

Stretched out and hung there and never spoke

Until deep in meditation, I awoke

Dwelt at the source of all that was before

The Tower of Babel for a month or two

Looked out on the early form of Errydo  

I slithered down the white wall to the town

Before I had to watch the tower burn

The city roasted too so, I could not return

Forced to re-live every folly once again

Tortured on the journey from within

A melding of the truth onto my skin

Begged for any hope – but there was none 

I jumped and washed out in the water of Absu

Until I, alone at last, the id, the one, the new.

©Gerry Tully 2022


In the night time rituals of youth

 The smell of cider in the wood

We laughed at foolish high achievers

We scoffed the doers and their good

Pretending to be infinite and deep

Unshakable as our resolve

We talked of all we would become

How the world around us will revolve

The heights that we’d already reached

We’d conquer all, and they’d find out

We were hard men fighting for a reason

Fighting through a haze of doubt

But something else awaits us 

More than apple tasting drinks

False gods are quite appealing 

But not enough, me thinks

©Gerry Tully 2022

Time, Within And On The Outside

Thoughts rise amid the electricity of being. 

A vision that one might bring to an ideal 

Conjured from a separate intellect 

Between the nothing and the circumspect   

Decides and does as Occam’s Razor

More true than truth, a cosmic laser

Proof, if it was needed, of a single chance

Millenniums pass in a single glance

But where does all the energy reside 

when body separates from mind 

to dust, organically ending as it must.

Those elements have their own agenda

Manifested ‘round what really is

tornado energy spins them in

What am I then if not this thing I see

The universe has every element of me

 Everything and all at once 

from the mighty strata? How?

The thing you’re searching for is now

The end point of all 

You’re the proof, if that was needed, 

A fractal of the vast and surging skies 

Looking at yourself through your own eyes

 While reflecting all the world

You are all that’s necessary – just be

©Gerry Tully 2022

The Banshee

‘Twas November, and the rain-packed clouds

Seen off the precious light.

From the dogwood heavy laden lane,

What harm for I had walked its course

And my house was just in sight.

An unearthly cry besieged my ears,

And I shook there in the fen

‘Tis on the promise of my life

I’ll never go that way again.

‘Twas not the dogs at Hackett’s house,

Nor a pheasant shrieking shrill,

But at Moore’s a little woman sat

Upon their window sill.

Eyes gaunt, secreting endless pain

Legs tucked beneath her chin,

Instilled a sword of fright in me,

‘Tis a fear that stays within.

I could see her nails, outgrown their stay,

As she toyed with matted hair,

And November’s added atmosphere

Had heightened up my fear.

So I ran and ran for fear of death

That she was surely to employ,

The fear remains since first I heard

The haunting Banshee’s cry.

©Gerry Tully 2022