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Reflections
an amnesia in the woman I am meant to be was hidden when the tears of forbidden emotions overflowed and extinguished my inner light now my mirror has no reflections and all I can see is the illusion of...
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Article 8
Satan was in the Chinese today, same restaurant as me, slovenly, an evil glint in his eye, repulsed, I wanted nothing more than to turn and go – but his gluttonous words spewed out, nauseating me, I...
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I Love You…
When you said the sun had no heat I blistered, without cream When you said the rain was not wet I drowned, in overflowing river banks When you said the snow was not cold I got hypothermia, walking to...
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My Greatest Inadequacy
In the sharp angles of my doorway a message waits for me, I stumble in a sober way and say, ‘no thank you, not today.’ Locking the door, I contend with larger than life features in an empty house, a...
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Article 5
A cold, dry day in January eleven years ago, all our faults washed away, we were suspended in well wishers and our own bubbly hopes, the car would not start, our dinner went cold, how we would pay was...
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One
Our unlit love hidden in a battlefield of intolerable uncertainty. Where sexuality intertwines our souls absconding from masculine or feminine emerging from near destruction to that which is...
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First Hello
An agreement made, rooted in time, no promises, no regrets, each chapter silently unfolded a scene that deleted a piece of me. I evolved from all the re-writes into a breathless, nameless shape...
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Longevity is fated
It’s late, my head throbs, your face has drained of colour, if only, I could rest my head – you might believe for a while I always loved you. Problems faded away at your death bed, all I could remember...
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Article 1
Tied at the kitchen sink, screams captured, by the ceiling – photos in the sitting room tell a different story. Tears unseen, all that was left was a girl in a box, buried alive, if only she’d been...
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Article 0
Image: Tony Murphy -Boyle’s Gaelic ChieftainFiled under: Poetry Tagged: beauty, creative writing, culture, life, loss, love, marriage, photography, poem, poems, poet, poetry, sadness, soul
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Morning Truths
When you wake looking for me one last time – remember: silently, how cold I was, the night no one came. Dry your tears in her soft hair – where memories, of me, will be carried away by armies of lice....
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