About the poet
Bernard O'Donoghue's poetry is marked by a gift for poetic portraiture, sketching characters at...
The Day I Outlived My Father
Yet no-one sent me flowers, or even
Asked me out for a drink. If anything
It makes it worse, your early death, that
Having now at last outlived you, I too
Have broken ranks, lacking maybe
The imagination to follow you
In investigating that other, older world.
So I am in new territory from here on:
Must blaze my own trail, read alone
The hooftracks in the summer-powdered dust
And set a good face to the future:
At liberty at last like mad Arnaut
To cultivate the wind, to hunt the bull
On hare-back, to swim against the tide.
from Outliving (Chatto & Windus 2003), © Bernard O’Donoghue 2003, used by permission of the author.
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