FEATURED POET OF THE WEEK

I am very pleased to say that I am the featured Poet of the Week on the

TWIN POETRY My Space site.

This is a brilliant site that promotes poets with recordings on My Space. Not long after they asked to be my friend and then added me to their links, my profile hits skyrocketed as did my listens. I've also had requests from other poets from as far away as Australia and it is extremely exciting to hear and read other poets.

I almost feel as if I am still part of the London poetry scene, which I miss more than I can say.

RECORDINGS

Go to

BETTE O'CALLAGHAN

for new recordings

WHY FISHERMEN CAN’T SWIM

Bury me under the wintering sea
call forth storms replete with lightening,
howling with thunder to serenade me
beckon a tsunami, unleash a monolith
to cleanse my soul, set me free

Conjure winds, the breath of eternity
shrieking my epitaph, proclaiming my demise
serve me to the fish, that they may dine on me
voraciously ingesting my flesh and bones
creating a transmogrified legacy

Stand upon the shore, gaze upon immensity
a vast and swollen ocean cradle
rocking my grave endlessly
summon Neptune and entreat this boon
beseech him to whisper my name, lovingly

© Bette O’Callaghan

THE NAKED AND THE DEAD

Kobrinsky, The Naked one, and I, The Dead one have been working together so to while away the hours whilst waiting for someone to answer their phone we have been writing poetry together. Here's the first two of our collaborations.

AUSTIN AUBADE

It feels like a hungover morning
nebulous and clumsy
I need my coffee black
it’s not the drinking…
I’ve been thinking too much
even the smallest bean
an elusive enigma
dripped into a cracked cup
pressed to my bleeding lip
with a kiss like this
nothing could acquiesce
kissing is overrated
I flip my fag into my cup
a broken nicotine dream
a gentle lover’s spoil
a pledge to give up thinking
and drinking… for awhile


© Sarah Kobrinsky & Bette O’Callaghan



POWER HOUR

The querulous grackles
frolic on fronds
as Texas hangs her hat
over the sun
and the cars, buildings,
all the pedestrians
let out a satisfying sigh
time is no longer timorous
it quivers in anticipation
of that orgasmic moment
when we seize the power
and steal away with the hour
abscond to that dark bar
where lovers whisper
over candles and cognac
where you and I can
do the same
two friends from far flung places
powerless together


© Sarah Kobrinsky & Bette O’Callaghan

ALMOST A LOVE POEM

MEA CULPA

Tonight I'm going home to dream of the whale
when we knew love as big as the ocean
I'll taste the salty tang of the tides
remembering your kisses, deep and rolling

Tonight I'll dream of where the sea meets the sand
the touch of your fingers floating over my skin
sweat drowning our eyes from the labours of lust
till submerged we sink into the depth of contrition

© Bette O’Callaghan

ALWAYS LEAVE 'EM LAUGHING

JUST LIKE THAT

Tommy Cooper is my hero
I never quite got his humour
or his hat, but
he was charming for all that
Tommy, as a star, ascended
in my sky
when I saw a tape of his last
show, there
he was in the middle of a joke
fumbling through one of his inept
magic tricks, when he
fell down upon the stage
the exquisite cleverness of his stillness
captured me, whilst
the audience was laughing, thinking
the dive was the punch line

Good on ya Tommy
what a way to go


© Bette O’Callaghan

LIFE IMITATES ART

LIFE IMITATES ART

When I was 59 I took Dorian Gray as my lover
it happened without my knowledge
I awoke one morning and he was in my bed
he’d stowed his valises under my eyes
heavy bags with no ticket for redemption
scaled the Everest of my cheekbones
where he puffed up plump pillows for his feet
donned his spelunker gear to excavate
the deep hollows of my cheeks
draped his weighty blanket around my jaw
and tenderly tugged to achieve perfect sag and droop
then laid tracks across my forehead
a contingency for a fast getaway

Dorian Gray loved me because...
I was as pretty as his picture

© Bette O’Callaghan