She flung her cigarette
Into the fireplace,
Then tried to heat her hands,
It was a miserable fire ablaze.

The turf was barely dry,
It floundered about the fireplace,
But it was the only turf left, and
She'd not dare turn on the oil heating.

She sat sadly in the sitting room,
The ceiling was collapsing and
The walls were caving in,
At least
The wallpaper is still nice,
thought she.

She remembered when she had bought it -
The sunflower pattern wallpaper sheets
Brightened up the room and all in it.

And now,
That it was just her,
Why did
the house
feel so
small?


-Jamie F. Nugent

It is a place where
Few seldom return from,
And even when they do,
You would not know
Them anymore.

There the girls spend their
Free afternoons in cafés,
Having their complex coffees
Poured into purple mugs, Then they
Melt into couches and conversation.

Pouring themselves into themselves,
Contemplating carnival rides
Upon Salt Hill and
Skinny dipping in Galway Bay,
When nights were soft with cool and chill.

With their blue eyes and black hair,
It is all too easy to lose your heart there.


-Jamie F. Nugent

Famous in War,
Famous in Bloodshed,
Famous in Heartbreak.

Stitch my scars,
Feel my heart sink,
Watch me fall and
Drown in memories.

How do you remember me?
Is it how I remember you?
The way the room lit up,
When you entered it.

Bright as a summer's day,
Bright as a winter's city night,
Christmas lights,
Covered in snow.

Never lacking in lustier,
Inseparable frozen hands,
Not wanting to let go,
Never wanting to give in.

That burn I get,
In the back of my throat,
From licking your flame.

I still see you the same way,
But in different places,
The bachelorette who
Drives past in her car,
In my opposite direction.

For a short moment in those
Shy girls, who glance out at life,
Through the same big,
Thick-rimmed glasses.

In the songs we once song
To one another,
All seeming like
A lifetime ago.

I hope that these days,
You are overjoyed,
Never again
To be so destroyed.

Destroyed by War,
Destroyed by Bloodshed,
Destroyed by Heartbreak.

- Jamie F. Nugent

He takes and he takes,
He will never ask, for fear it might stop him,
He will never be thankful,
He will never utter the word 'Please'.

He will only just act coy and tease,
He thinks it is funny when you are upset,
He is a walking double standard,
He is impossible to reason with,
He is in one ear and out the other.

He has given up on ageing long ago,
He was finished growing up years ago.
He is Peter Pan without the charm,
He is Peter's Pain and Peter's harm.

- Jamie F. Nugent

Worshipping and demonized,
Force fed and forbidden,
Since stone age,
Interwoven irreversibly,
Hands in air, like
Trying to stab the night's sky.

You dance like snakes would,
You maintain an ironic hipster pose
For everyone, at all times,
Standing, bright in this
Dingy old house.

Blowing air kisses and out
Sliver smoke rings, all night long,
You are the gum snapping stranger,
Pacing up and down the hall,
Wearing a tight t-shirt
With daises,
And tighter jeans.

Calling for your taxi
In the near morning,
From the door, in freezing rain
You somersault from place to
New and exciting place,
Give to you to drink mandrogora,
Until you are muddied and slow,
Like a double-decker bus.

Hypnotic and hallucinogenic,
Unsure if this is legal,
As if you really care,
Thinking you are so very
******* like some
Witchdoctor or Voodoo Priest,
This was not what you expected,
The journey through the living room walls.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Past-Midnight, post-agrument, pre-dawn,
You make a sudden entrance in this somber room,
Without words or warning,
Your head is buried deep in my shoulder;
You still remain speechless,
But your tears speak volumes,
You wear those teardrops on your cheek
Like the soft silk res dress you wore whilst
Taking my arm and leading me to a rock n' roll dance-floor,
Sway, Sway, Sway in this blaring ballroom,
Sway, Sway, Sway in my arms as you shake, break, weep,
But it will be better in the morning,
When the sun is up,
When your head is clear,
When your mind is right.
Disregard the gloom of last night,
And return back,
In dawn's early bright light.

-Jamie F. Nugent

We died of old age at age seventeen,
With a thousand years worth of dust in our eyes,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

Submerged in the deep in our submarine,
Without fear of a wreck or a capsize,
We died of old age at age seventeen.

You look the same as when we met by the marine,
You kept your fear of spiders and butterflies,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

You have always cut straight to the point like a guillotine,
You would indulge in love songs as I tried to harmonise,
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

Stretch out those arms and let me crawl between,
And improvise a half-dozen lullabies that will paralyze.
We died of old age at age seventeen.
If am an oak tree, you will always be evergreen.

-Jamie F. Nugent