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  May 2014 Helen
Seán Mac Falls
—for Síneánn

We drove to a lost, lonely isle,
And where, if only once to find
Ourselves sown again, belonging
Wholly to the keep of faraway strands
That hours tided us in beads and wave,
The nascent sea whispering aloft and birds
Cascading as we flew, to sail under moving
And hoary dunes with stellar eyes of poppies
Wild, such breathtaking strides for we to make
And the sun set dripping and lowly swept ashore
Away to us on breaths of gentle crests breaking,
We spoke sundry nothings, as if to know things
So simple are to be kept wanting nor ever said,
The lonely, dull star of day fell sleepy, dimmed
By sparks, the shimmer to our eyes—

                                                               So clear,
Shall be the hills of the fair isle to us, will always
Remain caste with new lamb and crowned deer,
By thorn and thistle and rimmed with broken shells
Rung on marbled beach, singular, before innocence
And grace, by skip ****** lovers cradled in only sky
To be joined, with the lined hands of long night stars,
Finally reaching in the jeweled glass by the running
Grains polished, a gild castle moat, stained into ocean
Salt, always by the sea of windows glory and joys given
To each, ever to be ****** upon the high tunes eternal,
Beside the stations of grass and drifted heartwoods,
Among wings by the slip of tides, ripped monumental;

Till when we drove away, this time, in a carriage stall
And all the tumbles of sand into eyes crumbled to end,
We drove ourselves back to riven sleep, a stark beyond
The fallen wayfare columns of momentary paths, we cut
Home, trudging through the garden forests and inlet
Bays on serpentine road, always ever to cross—
A bridge of sighs.
The Bridge of Sighs (Italian: Ponte dei Sospiri) is a bridge located in Venice, northern Italy. The enclosed bridge is made of white limestone and has windows with stone bars.

The view from the Bridge of Sighs was the last view of Venice that convicts saw before their imprisonment. The bridge name, given by Lord Byron in the 19th century, comes from the suggestion that prisoners would sigh at their final view of beautiful Venice through the window before being taken down to their cells.
Helen May 2014
Tick tock, Tick tock, Tock Tock ticking
Clocks cluck, catching curious cries
Several seconds slide, slowly sticking
Eclectic evil ever eager to eat out eyes

Tock tock, tick tick Tock
danger dances down, depicting doom
Hands hold hearts heavily in hock
aren't all able to articulately assume?

Clock is currently counting costs
justifying jumps and juggling jacks
tabulating time that is tossed
lightening liberal lust and loving lax

tick tick tick, tick tick tick
destination is a detonation despised
tock tock tock, tock tock tock*
sheep sleep soundly shrouded, so surprised
Helen May 2014
there is nowhere else

I've said it on Facebook
but my family aren't friends
so they can't take a look

there is nowhere else

I sent you a text
Call me tomorrow
or the next, or the next

there is nowhere else

this is where I live
in my mind
Poetic verses
spill like curses
only the nonsense
I leave behind

there is nowhere else
I want to be written
nowhere else
I want to be heard
nowhere else*
where my heart
was first smitten
nowhere else
I think
I'm deserved

there is nowhere else
I need to be right now

there is nowhere else
I could be the why
but not the how

there is nowhere else
I want to be, but can't

there is nowhere else
to leave my heart
Helen May 2014
I Stopped to Pick a Flower

I saw today, a little Mayflower
blooming from the broken ground
born from a dry earth and dry eyes
It grew there without a sound

I stopped to smell, and maybe touch,
it's dewy visage was a delight
I saw today a little Mayflower
that had grown throughout the night

I'm sure I've said it a thousand times
Life comes with no guarantees
Don't weep for me, for the lesson you see, is I am that little Mayflower
I wrote this for you today because I'm sure that Janice would want you to know that it's important to stop and smell the flowers... I'm sure this was her last stop :)

a text message to a friend who just lost a friend to the insidious fiend that is Cancer....
Helen May 2014
I like the picture of you
all silk skin and lean muscle
but not everywhere
giggles
I just stop to stare
Completely mesmerised
I like to practice kissy faces
into the mirror of your eyes
I like how the milk from
your breakfast cereal
runs down your chin
I want to chase it
with my tongue
I like how the honey
that drips from your pancakes
reminds me of *** and sin

I like how we have
the same routine
Wake up, make up
Shower together
my hand prints
shoulder high on the screen

I like to do yoga poses
to the moves you make
as you ride your girlfriend
but, make no mistake
I have a headshot of me
with a bit of blu tac on back
that I can move around the screen
whenever she's in the scene
and...
I'm liking how you ride me!
It's like Yoga nirvana!
you'll never find the cameras...

I Love you and bananas!
Stalker is such a harsh designation...
Helen May 2014
I wait for your ship to come in
but all I see are jet streams
I'm in the wrong place
so it would appear
All I see is
planes landing
When I should have
been standing
at the Pier
Helen May 2014
Be Forewarned*

as your arrow
smears blood
across
my thighs
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