Friday, 19th August 2022
  • Latest Issue
  • Submit An Article
  • Radio
  • Advertise With Us
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Home
  • Latest Issue
  • News
  • Features
    • Features
    • Editorial
  • Opinion
  • Sports
  • Gaeilge
  • Music
  • Byline
    • Fiction
    • Humour
    • Gaming
    • Film & TV
    • Fashion
    • Food
  • About
    • About
    • Editorial Team
    • Our Sections
    • Latest Issue
    • Advertise With Us
  • Write For Us
    • Apply
    • How To
    • Submit An Article
  • Sexpress
    • Ask Sexpress
    • Sexpress Magazine
  • Radio
home Arts & Literature, Byline Poetry #4

Poetry #4

By Express Staff   Posted in Arts & Literature Byline
Posted on November 12, 2020November 12, 2020

Grand Place, Nice Lights
By Julie Landers

Stories of a bunker
In a Ukranian city you cannot remember
Turned into an underground bar.

If you know the password
Doors are opened to you, song in a language you
Don’t understand.

I lean towards what lies above ground,
Sing the songs I know I
Cannot get wrong.

For both of us this is a new city
With new myths.
We walk through La Grand Place where small talk crumbles away, reveals soul.

The thrills you seek
On these cobbled streets
Which give way to nightclub dance-floors where we smoke and sway.

Under these red lights there is only you,
My confidante, my healer.
You smile like you carry plumes of smoke behind your teeth.

This moment of night terrors in new tongues.
I inhale my new home.
I look to you and deduce how light my lungs could feel.

Take solace in the secrets that we keep
In incompatible dialects,
Under streetlights veiled in early autumn’s mist.

I
By Claire Aherne

little mountain, big
sheep, eating shepherd alive,
each possessive limb

little chest, big heart
attack, weeping or dying,
can’t tell them apart

little sea, big fish
hunger in a stomach-full
of microplastic

little man, big black
shadow, though when i try to
touch, he is nowhere

II
By Claire Aherne

kissing pretty girl
tasting her back and forwards
year of many masks

there is no remorse
and he would do it again
if boredom arose

what is appetite
how come you smell like flowers
i’m dripfed my pride

Share this:

  • Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Google+ (Opens in new window)
  • Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)

Related

Search

You Might Also Like

The Great Escape
The Great Escape
  • Mar 31, 2022
A Letter to My First Year Self
A Letter to My First Year Self
  • Mar 31, 2022
The College Experience – Sarah O Mahony 
The College Experience – Sarah O Mahony 
  • Mar 31, 2022
Apps and Healthcare
Apps and Healthcare
  • Mar 15, 2022
In Conversation with Neurodiversity Society
In Conversation with Neurodiversity Society
  • Mar 15, 2022

Recent Articles

Áras Uí Thuama – Gaeltacht na hOllscoile
Áras Uí Thuama – Gaeltacht na hOllscoile
  • Mar 31, 2022
The Great Escape
The Great Escape
  • Mar 31, 2022
A Letter to My First Year Self
A Letter to My First Year Self
  • Mar 31, 2022
Farewell Cakes 
Farewell Cakes 
  • Mar 31, 2022
The College Experience – Sarah O Mahony 
The College Experience – Sarah O Mahony 
  • Mar 31, 2022
Theme by Evan Smith