anthony-mckeeWhisper

Irish
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ForestI shall go to the woods / One summer’s afternoon. / I shall go to hear the cuckoo cry
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2.2k
Cemetery SundayA hush. A fanfare. It begins / As loved ones huddle close / To the marble hearth.
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1.8k
Arausio*Morpheus, / Asclepius, / et Sulis Minerva
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1.5k
A MeadowSometimes I wonder / Whether I’m too gentle / Feeling your hot breath writhe over me
26
1.4k
WanderingThe bitter taste engulfs my mouth as I seal it shut / Running my finger along its ridges, its blood red mouth / Clasping half-heartedly. The past, gone with it. I frown,
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1.2k
OxytocinIs a chemical your body releases / When you hug someone for twenty seconds / Or more. It churns through the bloodstream, direct to the
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1.2k
Man on the 1711He got on, I think, at the first stop / I hardly noticed him at first. / Another passenger, another journey
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1.1k
JourneysThere are days where we meet up / To walk under cool crisp skies / Made up of indigoes, lilacs and light crimsons
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933
A Burial in DecemberThe sullen clouds of grey cloak the coast / As the ice cold Cuan whispers upon the land. / I brought in the wreath. Coloured of a small tortoiseshell,
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829
Tír ChonaillBells toll across glens / Calling barren lands to greet / Its Gospel, the Word.
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826
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