Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

His daughter's harbinger

by Mike Toohey

A pale blue banner, this November dawn:
where land meets air the light is moving in.
The moon, a lamp of frosted glass, has drawn
subtle shadowlines all night; my skin
is veined with oaks and willows as I pace
the ways and lawns, between two days, between
the old world and the world that knows your face.
I shiver with cold and delight, my heiress, my queen,
recalling your azure eyes in august sleep,
invisible sceptre in your small, curled hands.
And I long to show you your estates and lands:
this lawn, these ways, this lightening sky, the deep
blue zenith with its lingering stars, my heart,
which would make each stark branch blossom, had it art

Added: 30.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


I like the title. I think this poem would have meant even more to me if I had known the backstory. Intriguing.