Autumn came earlier With the premature end of August. The death of memories, The remnants of a favourite Holiday moment, Now confined to the past, Before it’s time was there to recall From an album of snapshots, Gathering dust. Ponds of reflections rippled by a stone Of doubt. Was it a happy memory? Perhaps it was just a brief appetency. A distortion; like ripples Playing tricks with a fading mind.
About the Poet:
Robin McNamara lives in Waterford City and with over 45 poems published worldwide, including having poems published in America with Starving Writers and in the UK with Saccharine Poetry.
Robin is a regular contributor to Poetry Ireland and Black Bough Poetry poetry prompts as well as being a guest prompter with Poetry Ireland.
UCD Library have a selection of his pandemic poems in their archives as a record of poems written during this period. Robin also regularly contributes to Spillwords, where he was nominated twice for poem and author of the month.
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