Art's Festival Poem by (Dr) Kevin Kiely

Across at the pub some local Michaelangelo
Has muralised you in a suit on cloud nine
A sort of Sligo in Heaven
Executed with naive lumps of paint

The journalist, the peacock scholar, the piss artist
Made their carnival on high stools
About your moved bones in happy Drumcliffe
Willie, the most holy last lovely Romantic
The skipper at home his spirit soaring

Indeed I felt no need to curse your bones
Near the upturned huge boat of Bulben
Or your epitaph from Shakespeare's Timon
Festive ghost—cast a cold eye on poetry