“There are three types of Limericks: limericks to be told when ladies are present; limericks to be told when ladies are absent but clergymen are present; and LIMERICKS.” – Don Marquis. Irish literature remains today to be one of the richest, most beautiful genres within the English-speaking world. Ireland is famous for its poets: Heaney,…
The beach was a fairly small one, and the village built around it – the village where I grew up – was not much bigger, so I suppose it was a pretty big deal when everybody woke up and found… you know, found it washed up that day. I mean, it took up most of…
There are small deaths and cruel deaths. Here, this is a slow death. Nuture it, be careful, be gentle, These things are all on you, You know. And remember It’ll be there when you fail And are alone. You needed this, You know. I don’t remember ordering this I know. We know. Yet here it…
Monday A well-named wagtail, windowsill visiting, Was a glimpse of grey, then gone. God bless him. Tuesday Started with trilling From a twitchy chaffinch Who lingered longer Hedgerow hopping. Wednesday Went wild with starlings Screaming evenings full, A fearless family. Gossips, but good-natured Thursday Hosted some magpies And a jackdaw judged The clatter and clamour…
I was in a safe place, or so I had thought, with your hand on my mouth, I begged you to stop. Thinking back on this and my stomach in knots, I shove down more pills and three more shots, my body is broken and I am lost, my innocence was taken but for…
The darkness pools around me; A viscous, shadowed cloak that absorbs all but my loneliness. I am certain to drown unless she wrench me from myself. She, who slashed the blackness with great welts of light. With her merest of touches she could silence the demons that twisted my every thought. In the hollowness…
I need a backstage pass To get behind your scenes To explore what lights you up And turns you on. I need to know what brings You laughter What causes you upset What feels to you Disaster. And if I had that pass There’d be no mystery, Your life would be Just that. So keep…
I’ve forgotten how to start the day and how to use the time. The minutes and hours drip away like reason from the rhyme. There was once meaning or so it seemed Though maybe I was blind I had my place but spoke of truths that I would never find For what’s a…
I will walk barefoot in this forest and dirty my feet. The stars will burn themselves out; like an old candle. Life has been lived- And will be lived again. I revel in the dripping wax. Let it sting my hands. It will flow forever.
I am a cardboard box; Left out in the rain, I am soggy. You will say I am useless. But I will decompose- Seep into the pores of the earth; Blood mixes with the soil, I become That cottage which life Renovates; Invigorates- Life breathes and I begin again, Beautiful. By Rosemary Kelly