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Michael Corrigan

Journeyman (I) 



Yesterday morning,

the port city of Heraklion

bustling with sunshine and birdsong,

a freshly sparkled sea

heart gladdening,



Last night,

Dublin airport in the dark,

my lover waiting,

all tousled hair

and mischief.


This morning

dawn, grey in drizzle,

a solitary crow

calling from our wintered roof,

the thin music of melancholy.





Journeyman (iv)


Sand accepts


the memory of my passing,


then discretely lets it fade.


Unwell for days, I spent myself


putting angry clouds in a blameless sky,


but here tonight I gain some peace


beside this shushing sea.





Journeyman (ii)



Silent moon


above the groves


spirits ghosting


through the trees


summer gone


season over


a small star falls


across the sky.

Journeyman (iii)



Moon silent


moon still,


groves stoic


in the barren season,


quiet now, calm now,


but jagged winter


will not be denied.

Michael Corrigan KNOT Magazine Fall Issue 2014

Mick Corrigan has been writing for years and has been published in a range of periodicals, anthologies, magazines and on-line journals. He is in his fifties (at least he thinks they’re his fifties, they could be someone else’s), and lives in County Kildare with Trish his lifer, Molly the talking wonder dog and Ben the far too clever collie.


He divides his time equally between the islands of Ireland and Crete and the vast open space in the back of his head. His first collection, “Deep Fried Unicorn”, will be published later this year by Rebel Poetry.

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