Poem Of The Week 'Neglect' by Louis Mulcahy

Neglect.

Neglect so often
The fate of those we cherish.
Like vest or glove noticed
Only when unravelled,
Or in the wound of loss,
Or threat of departure.

The dearest disregarded.
Limb or digit overlooked,
Though centrally involved
In every conscious act.
Intangible attraction.
Satellite cleaved.

Not obsession’s passion.
Nor selfish avarice.
Singularity obscure
Within the deeper wirings
That knows, appreciates,
Draws near the glowing fire,

And when, occasionally,
The embers’ blush declines,
Alerted by the cold,
Lifts head in mild surprise
And, suddenly aroused,
Desires to tend with care.

Louis Mulcahy born 1941. Reared in Wexford. Moved to Limerick in 1953, on to Dublin in 1963 and to Dingle in 1975.
Louis worked in Television for the duration of his stay in Dublin and then moved to Kerry to set up his pottery ‘Potadóireacht Na Caolóige’.
He started writing in the late nineties. Since then has written dozens of not so short stories, some running to novella length, together with his autobiography and having recently discovered the compressed joys of poetry, has temporarily abandoned a novel.
His other main interest is classical singing.
In 2004 the National University of Ireland conferred upon him the honour of Doctor in Law for his contribution to the artistic and cultural wellbeing of the Kerry Gaeltacht.
He is married to Lisbeth, who is a tapestry weaver. They have three children and four grandchildren. He intends to live to a hundred, because he has a lot he wants to do.
You can see some his other life on www.louismulcahy.com