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Sep 2016 · 636
2.44 am
I lie in a half prone position
Waiting for the debate to end
The start of the road to perdition
Earlier I spoke to a friend

She told me, she'd like me to see her
When she's not feeling so low
I don't know the right things to tell her
It's cowardly of me, I know

I brought her last night to the doctor
Waiting an hour or two
The nurses were calm and so kindly
But I still don't know what I can do

I told her be brave and be honest
I touched her, the back of her neck
She flinched cause she's been violated
She whispers, a hushed, slienced wreck

Do I help her because that I love her
Or is it more selfish than that?
Do I help her because I dream of her
Alone with me inside my flat?

The nighttime is getting much colder
Autumn comes early this year
Do I help her because that I love her?
Or is it I can't stand her tears?
Written on September 17th 2.44am, 2016.
Sep 2016 · 893
Every Day is A Day I Learn
Where are you? And where is home?
Are you with friends? Or all alone?
I seek the Lord, to make him pray
For happy endings, and brighter days

No, oh no no, every day is a day I learn.

I wait for you, beneath blue skies
I tell myself that I don't mind
When will it end, this appetite
To ***** up things, I know are right?

No, oh no no, every day is a day I learn

And I'm not trying to say nothing
I'm just kinda wondering, how you been
If it's a game then it's hard to play
If you could see me now,
Oh what you'd say.

No, oh no, every day is a day I learn.

A ****** field, your house on fire
The world is old, and full of liars
And there you are, so here I go
I don't know much, and don't it show

No, oh no no, every day is a day I learn.

And I'm not trying to say nothing
I'm just kinda wondering, how you been
If it's a game then it costs a lot to play
If you could see me now,
Oh what you'd say.

No, oh no, every day is a day I learn.
No, oh no, every day is a day I learn.
Another song this time, taken from my band's album "Black Republic" you can listen to it at: https://soundcloud.com/paul-galbally/sets/black-republic-the-hard-times
Aug 2016 · 705
I look to the West
I don't know why I go on anymore
My head's on the pillow
My brain's out the door
Crazy man, cell block 3 0 19
Shouting out nonsense
And blasphemy

I look to the West and it's lately a storm
I look to the West and it's lately a storm

People, oh people, why do you cry?
You see falling buildings
You think we'll all die
But look to your history
The reasons the ryhmes
Don't believe popular
And current lies

I look to the West and its lately a storm
I look to the West and its lately a storm

I don't trouble, no I don't want pain
But I don't want religion,
I think it's insane
I don't believe scriptures
I think it's all lies
The truth's in the look
In a new child's eyes

I look to West and it's lately a storm
I look to the west and it's lately a storm
These are the lyrics for a song I wrote a good few years ago, but I thought I'd share it.  You can hear the actual song on soundcloud at the following URL  https://soundcloud.com/paul-galbally/sets/black-republic-the-hard-times
Aug 2016 · 856
As the Sun Rises
Once more
Again
From the Dark
As the Sun Rises
I Find Myself
Alone but Surrounded
Surrendered but Proud
Shrouded in Hurt
But Open in Heart

This new Day
Comes at Last
To Warm my Cheeks
And Ease my Heart
Pain Fades
As Hope Rises
Perhaps this is as it
Is Meant to Be

I do not know
I am only a Man
But one looking at the Sun
And not the Ground
Muscles Relax
Tensions Ease
Resentments Fade Away
In Truth is Hope Born
God Bless the Rising Sun
First new poem in a long time, which was spent in darkness
Dec 2014 · 624
As I fell upstairs
As I fell upstairs
last evening
I don't know
why, i couldn't
Stand up straight,
but I wasn't drunk

I was crashing around,
like the lost soul
That I seem to have become
A ghost who lives
in between this life
And an early grave
Full of sorrow
Full of pain

An absence of dust
in an un-aired room
a shade against
the lighted window
at evening

I only pay attention to
My dreams now
However mundane
Or strange they are
My life is too full of hurting
to contemplate much

What has become of me?
I cannot say for
I do not know
Only that I am
Bereft of hope
And there are things
worse than death

I see others' living
and despair
That I will ever know
such things
Again.
No notes, just hurt.
Oct 2014 · 476
Thime taken for sleep
I was standing on a rock
In a barren place
Waiting, for sleep
Waiting for pity
Praying for empathy

Sleep is my best friend now
Nightly slumber
Eagery anticipated
A few pages of a book
To occupy a
Troubled mind

It takes me away
From the barren place
That is life
In a moment
Of pain,
Longing
Sep 2014 · 733
In the North
As I sip my cappuchino in a bar
In the north

The heart of The North
I think about the past

Of how it has come to be
Like this, tamed, no longer

A place of conflict
Just animosity

So strange to me
Ireland but not as I know it

Strange flags fly
On the roadside

Of Batallions,
And identities

All strangers to me
Then I see a tricolour

To remind me
This is Ireland too

It's still home, but not
Like my southern repose

The other funny thing is
I kinda like it here
Aug 2014 · 2.2k
the cafe on my street
This is my street
An old street,
In an old Irish town
The people come
And then they go
In the soft rain
Of a short Irish summer

When the mood is on me
I let my feet walk
And they always
Seem to bring me here
The cafe at the end of the street
And sure,
Where else would they go?

Many is a time
I had a hearty steak sandwich
Or fishcakes with potatos
Or just a coffee and scuffin
To beat the cold outside
And it's many the friend
I found in there
Aye, and lovers too.

It's face is green and black
Milanese style
So the owners tell me
With a striped green and white awning
And simple tables and chairs
And all the love in the world

Music has been had there
And poetry, and just craic
Long Scrabble saturdays
Taken very seriously
We even bought the dictionary
To stop the heated
Word exchanges

So I know most of the people
There is always a smile
Headed in my direction
When I am blue
It brings me to life
Somewhat
And needless to say
The food is always good

It is funny, how
Friends and family
Merge sometimes
As happens
In the cafe at the end of the street
Where friends are family
And family are friends

They told me
They are closing in September
A loss like a family bereavement
I can only hope that
I find another place to go
Or maybe a new street to live on
Where I can
Walk out my door, and feel
Home
Aug 2014 · 631
Daily Dispensation
Every morning
As the Alarm clock
Slowly brings
The classical music Station on
And I wake from
Vivid dreams
Of places I have never been
Nor seen

I drink my coffee and await
My daily dispensation
My script
My Medication
To help fight my Illnesses
Allegedly at least
That's what the medical
People say
And I never argue
I don't know how

But the walk
The walk to the chemists
It humiliates me
Makes me feel like a criminal
Or a ****** in need of a fix
A poacher in search of a doe
The walk in rain and shine
It lessens me
Step by step
Until I recieve
My daily dispensation

And I walk those same steps back
On old, old streets, with people
In early morning fluster
Creating a new day
While mine as a hopless case
is ending
In a roundabout way
And I bring my daily dispensation
Home, and what happens then?

All I know is that my hands stop
Shivering
And I am able to stand up
And feel as a living person
Every day,
It is a tiresome thing
Had I known
Such pain was possible
I should think
I would have stayed in
The womb
Aug 2014 · 393
Solace
Where, when
How.........
Do I regain
Consolation
Fom this
Hurting

The answers
Will not
Come
I know

And when
I am consoled
I will reread this
Poem
And remember
August 13th 2014
Aug 2014 · 634
Washing with words
In a quiet gully
In a shy valley
I eek out my life

Hour by hour
Washing with words
The pain I feel

Like an iodined cut
Across my throat

My eyes feel heavy,
And worried with sadness
Misted over

Scanning the patterns
In some old
Wallpapered room
Boxed full
Of empty memories
That I have built
For myself

As a haven for grief
A work in progress
Aug 2014 · 2.1k
Not a poem, A request
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at -  bit.ly/1pJ0N3z

You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote.

Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.

Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst

Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.

Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.

Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all

But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved

Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Thank you in advance if you give me a vote.
Aug 2014 · 429
Words
The words form in my mind
But I cannot commit them
To pen or paper
The tears well in my eyes
But I cannot wipe them
With soft napkins
The hurt settles in,
like an old friend
On my couch
I am bereft of clever ways
to express how I am
Or to mingle phrases
To express my sorrow
I am silenced by this
Pain

The pain that churns
In your gut
And chokes the life
From your throat
I walk the street
But my feet cannot
Feel the cracks
Nor the wetness of
The rained-on brick
Through my tired
Old shoes

I  am lost for now
Seeking solace in
The sunshine
And raindrops on
Window panes
Trying to forget
Longing to remember
The times we had
When I held you
In the sea
When we climbed the
Rocks
Together

Now is all there is
Like a guttering candle
It is flickering
In and out
And my mind wanders
Following the weak flame
As it hovers between
Light and darkness
Another day shall come
And I shall be some other me
Forgetful of this pain
So I write it down
For it is the doom of men
That they forget.
Work in progress August 2014.
Aug 2014 · 397
To Her On an August Night
My heart is raw with hurt
You don't know what you've done
Deep within me, something died
The day you stopped listening
And I became an encumbrance
Instead of a lifeline

I will endure, I have no choice
But I shall not be the same
You touched something
Deep within I thought was dead
But was waiting for you
And now, now?
What am I to do

My silly, funny, beautiful girl
You have stolen my grief
You have clarified my pain
To a needle point
Which I feel, nerved inside

But we take our chances
And I chose you
So I only have myself to blame
And I curse in despair
For having loved for loves' sake
As all fools do, including I.
Aug 2014 · 730
The Gloaming
Though I turn and I twist
And try to resist
The persistence of
Memories

Of her, I cannot
They are part of me
And know
Where to find me

There is no shelter
From yourself
So be careful
Because todays joys
Can become, tomorrows
Woes

Tormenting you
Worming thir way into
Your diluted present

The past is no friend
It is a sea of pain
Waiting to swallow
Though who linger
On its black rocks
to try to recapture
Lost love.
In progress
My Heart is like a leaded stone
Thrown into a murky pool
Where anenomies and catfish
Slither in a salty dance
Driven by the Sea's wash
From above far away
Comes the sound
Of a piano, or such
Made heavy by waters' weight
I try to listen but can no
Longer remember melody
Or light
Just deep wet darkness
And eels as they wind
Through mud
My heart is like a leaded stone
Cast into a murky pool
May 2014 · 948
The Wrack of the Isle
To the east
To the sundered east
Of the deserted Isle
Their lies a wrack
black timbered bones
Scold clinging clams
That harbour there
In the Wrack of the Isle
As she lies down

They say
In hushed wispers
it happened
Many years ago
Men died
Or so they say
But now, no one really knows
It's all been forgotten now
Through foggy years of
Sun and Snow
And dirth the man
Who can name her

The wrack rises
To the waters
To greet the
High airs above
The darlking deep beneath
Where once there was a love
Who can say, now
When looking at the wrack
In its black longingness
That once, it was a brightened
Vessel, fine and new
Filled with laughter
And simple joys

They dive there sometimes
When the tides allow
But divers have to be wary
It's dangerous near
Wrack waters, so easy
To be pulled down and
Within, you go
And once in her shell
The air can not sustain
You, for it is
Not for breathing
Creatures

Remember the shore
They tell
The newcomers
You must remember
Where it is
To the west you
Must go, and so on....
But carefully,
The wrack will
Call at you
Softly, and slow
Breathing liquid fumes
That fill the lungs
And crush the ribs

I swam round her once
It was a heady -
Experience, all shoreline
Was forgotten
I was lured by her
Cracked spars and
Speckled beams
So beautiful
Beneath a shining sea

But I learned there
That no man may
Swim the wrack
Forever, and not forget
Deep death there awaits
And lies down
With you
In a wet grave
So be forwarned
Before you swim
The wrack of the Isle
To the East
The sundered East.
The Wrack, in an imagined sea, near the lonely isle.
May 2014 · 390
The Nothing
Nothing
No thing
What does it mean
I don't know
I feel it
Inside me
Though
The no thing
A nothing
A space for
Desperate thoughts
To flitter away
Time and
Happiness
I do not know what
Else to say
Sometimes
I am a no thing
Just a shell
Looking at an
Empty world
Full of voids
And holes
Where people
Friends
Lovers
And family
Should be
What can
You do when
Faced with
A no thing
Where a
Some - thing
Should be?
You can't
Fight nothing
It doesn't
Take blows
Just accepts
The energy
Used to
Strike then
Into itself
Nothing.....
Apr 2014 · 1.9k
The End of the Affair
In the end,
It was a brief
Affair.
In the end
It was a ship
That fared....
Too full,
A draft too
Unsteady
To stay it's course
My perfect friend
And listing
O're the force
Of winds
That ripped
Her jib sails
To shreds
And small pins;
I full of pain
You, unable
To hold on....
Against the
Winds -
"A shame"
They'll say
Or maybe
Not
I know
I know
I know.......

In the fullness
Of time's course
We'll see
Our time
Entwined
Was far, far
too brief
To be......
You so full
Of fear
I so full of grief
But we loved free
That is true
And love, in itself
Can beat the tide
But only if
The mainsails' true
I know
I know
I know.........

Your tears were
No secret
To me,
Your wetted eyes
Let me know
You'd -
Had your fill
Of heart pain
And sorrow
And sometimes
We need to go
Aside ourselves
To heal the wounds
I know
I know
I know......

In the playing
Out of time
I'm sure
We'll appreciate
That we
Struck before,
Before the sea
Was ready
To endure us
And so the
The long rock
was struck
And strewn;
We loved
Too early
Or perhaps
Too soon
I know
I know
I know......

The hurt will
Come later
The movement
Changing slow,
My countenance
Will remain
The same
But my heart
Will lose it's glow,
To think
We may not sail again
It is the
End of the affair
I know
I know
I know........
Draft version April 26th
Apr 2014 · 821
After the war is over
After the war is over
Will we have a chance to
Recompense....us?
After the fighting is through
Who will be left
to have the sense
To take what has been
Thrown away
And put it in it's rightful
Place
Askance
You might say
And rightly so.

After the war is over
Will we have a chance
To recompense?
To these and other
Questions
I find myself
Muted, numbed
Afraid
I cannot answer
Such things
They are not
Within my authority
To judge

But war is coming
I can feel it
It is in the air
And the waters
All around
We have truly
forgotten
What war is
Too long away
Too far away
It has been
But it is truly
coming closer now
Soon it will be
Everywhere
Once more.

After the war is over
Who will be left
To recompense?
Written on April 25th 2014, 100 years since the first great global war shook the world, and changed history forever.
Apr 2014 · 4.0k
The Void
Have you ever
Truly, contemplated
The Void?
Have you?
Really?
Ever?

It's blackness
surrounds us
In all directions
Wrapped in its
Utter empty
Dark embrace

And we spiral down
within it
Like a lost soul
In a deep
Gravity well.

Around a yellow
Many-blessed star
Which itself
Circles the
Frigid centre
Of a Galaxy
A wide, Milky way
Saggittarian armed

Which itself
Is moving
Circling away
from a point
with its
Peers contained in
The Virgo cluster

Away, and away.
One day to unite
Violently
With Andromenda
2 million years
Of light away

Herself
In a collision
So vast,
the heavens will
Tremble
And worlds
Will spin
Off their axis'

And yet, this
Is as nothing
When compared
To the void.
The nothingness
The totality
Alpha - Omega
It watches us
Mutely
Waiting
Our turn
To return

It watches all its
Galactic children
As they
Run away
Gravity wise
Forever, eternally
From the point
At which they
Formed/born

Heat, energy
Perfect symmetry
Broken and
Shattered
Resulting
In the Void

That point
Is where the Void began
It's career of
Darkness and
Silence
Its airless cold presence
Embraces all

And ever since
Its......................
Nothingness has been
Increasing
Relentless
Light year upon
Light year

Yes, it is truth
Nothingness
Is the true nature
Of this Universe
God's creation
That we think
So mundane

The one we feel
Is packed with life,
Woods, hills, tree
Small towns
Pieces of paper

But we live in a special place
Places that are something
Are the exception
Not the rule
Which is no thing
We are so rare,
like a single teardrop
In a pacific ocean of
Nothing

Beyond here
Up there
Down there
Across there
It seems filled to
Brim with stars
Twinkle with promise
But be warned

All the stars and
Galaxies (red and blue)
Would not fill
A millionth of a
Percentile
Of the universal void.
It swallows them
All, entirely

Gently staring at us
Forever
From its dark
Black eye

Think on that
And then
Think again
And again
You cannot
Contain it
No thing
Can

The stars
And all the planets
Nebuli and holes
black and dark
Are as nothing
Human beings
Thought
Ephemeral
Taken whole

Compared to the real
Stuff of Universe
Which is void.

Think upon it
As much as you can
On a cloudness night
Stare into the sky
And realize
You are truly
looking into
Eternity

A void so utterly empty
That all things
that are, or will be
Mean no thing
To it, its deep
black heart
And complete
Perfect
emptiness

If you do not
Swoon with fear
And tremble
With excitement
At the reality of
This fact
Of your
true existence

And of
Your private
privililge
To glimpse
At this no thing

From a tiny
blue/white
rock-made ball
Of a home
Trapped in nothing
Then you have not
Truly
Contemplated
The reality of
The Void.........
Written on a dark night staring toward Orion, in a draft form
Apr 2014 · 796
Water and Sand
We are made of
Water and sand
Creatures that live
On the line
Of the land
Drawn by
The child-gods
Seperates us
Between
Land and the Sea
Made from sand
And water
Are we.

As the tide
Goes out
Then so
We are pulled
Toward azure
Waters
In lagoons
And deep pools
And as she
Comes back
Return so do we
Our rightful place
Interfaced,
Between
The land
And the sea
Written on an Easter Sunday in 2014.
Apr 2014 · 2.9k
An Irish Kind of Love
We have an Irish kind of love
Her and I
Myself and herself
Old and young
Young and old
But which is which
Sometimes
I know.............

We have an Irish kind of love
In how we talk
In riddle and rhyme
Singing and crying
At the same time
Sometimes
I know.....................

We have an Irish kind of love
When we walk
The hills of our county
Herself does be scolding me
For not keeping up
What can I do
So busy watching
Watching my step
And the heathers blue

We have an Irish kind of love
Forged in an ancient ring
But of stone, not gold
Ageless and timed
She sooths me
And my troubled mind
For she is as new as the dawn
But as wise as sea

We have an Irish kind of love
Herself, and me.
When it rained, I was walking
I was walking.........
A hill, and up a red mountain
Upon asking
direction of an
Old man, who stood
strangely shouting,
At haggard old cattle
with oddly human faces
For the life of me
Pouting....................

I learned, when it rained
On my own journey home
Through the unwise
Old man's country
Is that its your
own life
thats owned
By things you invest in
So claim a strong interest
in clearing yourself of them.

Made for the making
you are, for yourself
not for some other.
Do not bleed for
Another, who throws
Your dreams to the wind.

Im held by my feelings
In aspic, and nitre
a tired shepard
Of wayward thought/sheep
That wander on hills
that I have invented
In  mind's eye
and blurred rainy sleep.

But the rain you create will
Drown you, if careful
You allow yourself
Open to downpour
Of thought/water,
that you've
Created from
rivers of
clocks and alarms
that run
Ever over
Rocks of experience
you crash into
When safe from all harm.....

As years pass
They grow
More jagged
Hazard stones
And dangerous
The grow
On your soul.

And in the knowing
It's your life
You are saving........
So be grateful
for ageing
it's useful
To know
When to stop
At the whole.

Is there time in
a grain, to be thought
as a quantum
of realness or
real, and realness can be
when our world is of quanta-
reality-grit
how is the thought/world
revealed?

Are we our senses
Like fruit we have
peeled? Who watches us
Close by from inside?
As thoughts get revealed.
Is he as close as
your necked vein?
As they say in some places?
These questions are hard
And they pose harder
Answers.  

So  consider
yourself, take courage
In living
For the void is a terror
Yet we all live
Within it
Infinite, unchanging

I'm scared for possible
futures
Running from
fixed pasts
Chasing hazed out rainbows
That long I have clung to,
How long can it possibly last?
I have dug many holes
Will I find one at last?

I don't know, but I do,
But telling is hard
For in telling truth
you must be
Honest
And honesty is a slippery
Concept, is it not?

When it rained, I was walking
I was walking
A hill, and red mountain
Upon asking
direction of a
Mad man,
stood shouting
At the cattle with faces
For the life of me.....
......................
Pouting

That man was me
No longer the stranger
My hills I have
Crossed, and knowing
The danger
Warn passers
That their paths
Can be crossed
When it rains.
Just sketches and ideas for a draft of a poem, not to be taken as a piece of work.
Apr 2014 · 1.7k
Last Night I Dreamed
Last Night I dreamt
Of the Hagia Sophia.
Looking across
mighty Bosphorous.
In Istanbul, in Byzantium,
in Constantinople.
A prize of ages...........
In all her many's
real and imagined glory.
Man's desire,
God's gift.
Stone's testament
To my species' faith,
In eternity.

Though this Hagia,
My Sophia,
was one of my dreams
In a dream-city/state.
In a dream Macedon/Thrace,
Modern and ancient
Asian/Europe, European-Asia,
Turk and Greek
Jew and Russian
Balkan stars fall upon her'
Coloured light's
and bright vid-screens.
Amid stone and earth
Glass and concrete,
Granite and amythst

Huge, jewel-covered,
ancient beyond measure....
Not just Constantine's church,
though mighty church it was..
Or Mehmet's prize;
though great Mosque it became
Nor Theodosius's rock
Though he still fights for her
Somewhere in the past.
And no dry museum either,
Though museum she is..........
In reality.

Just an ancient place,
Euxine harbour
Cross-road of man and water,
Land and Gods
Magic and reality
Chozen by Hellas
Built and owned
by Christ's children
Subjects of St. Paul's
Holy empire.
Orthodox and sacred
To Greek and Rus.
No Latin hymns
We're sung in her walls.

Then won by Turk
In wars fierce and long -
So now Muhammed's shrine
Ottoman and Pasha
Jewel of a new kingdom
Built upon built
Myriad upon myriad
Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian
And the Gods of Hellas
who dwell there still
Watch and wonder
at it all

But in my dream
She was made -
in the shape of a grassy mound
Many faceted, growing still
Amid structures, attached to her
spans and arches
Ancient wonder
Modern glory
Flowing and rising
Worshipped by all who
dwelt near her.
Grassed covered
Monument strewn
Stretching up to the dark -
Starry Sky
Arches
Domes
Butress'
Spires
Crosses
Cresents
Heart's desire
White rocks paved
And eternal grasses
Dewed by Hellene Gods
Whose light it saved

Last night I dreamed
Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Dream Poem April 4 2014

I entered this poem in the Tallenge Poetry Contest for May 2014, which amazingly enough, It won first prize, its now in the annual competition so if you could vote for it at bit.ly/1pJ0N3z I would be really grateful.
Apr 2014 · 758
Achill Sound and Environs
To the west of Mulranny,
Past Spanish Point.
Where dark, dark Minaun,
Cast's her cold shadow.
There is a fast sound,
Dangerous as a true sin
As many a Navy man Royal found
And many a clever islander too.

And the land runs,
down to her gently.
It glides, as if a sea bird
down to the shallow sound,
From both sides,
right, then left
Giving somewhat -
the impression of a cosy valley.
With warm homesteads close-by,
together at dusk
But they are seperate, in truth
by land, long and strewn
Many many miles
hard walking.

By sea, a ten minute walk
would suffice;
But no-one would
ever talk of such a stroll,
For they would never tell
of anything
Again.
However deft
However brave
For the sound takes
What it owns.

One evening, I drove to the right of her,
And the red Oche sun painted for me
Scenes on the hills,
Great battles history -
Wars of celtic gods, christian saints
And the old Gods before people
And the God's older still
Who have no names anymore.
But bear all on their backs
This land is, in truth, those Gods' land.

It changes with each ray of light
That passes this way through the
broad deep ocean,
green and milk topped
fresh as a breeze
blowing through a green arbour
Or black as terror , with white cresendo
Black rocks shot with reds and quartz's
Sharpened by water
It is not a place for faint of heart
Or unsure of foot

And at Achill beg can be seen
Man's footprint,
long here
Strange barrows,
and dry walls
That deep time
has made anonymous
To the prying eyes
of modern time
But past 8,000 years
have our people
Lived in this place,
guarded, hounded
By the Atlantics' cruel force
And I swear
if I had freedom to choose
a place to live,
without concern
And a place to die,
without worry
It would
Be here.
From scenes, rememberences, trips, days, evenings, spent on Achill Island and Mulranny, Co. Mayo, Ireland.
Apr 2014 · 968
The Wanderers (part I)
A small group (or collection, if you wish)
of wanderers and travellers
And people with desires
to see great marvels
Met by accidence,
in a era of confusement
Held together,
by mutual suspicions,
they decided
To leave their abodes.  
So they travelled a long way
Until they were in a place
A very dusty place,
with dry old things
Dry like a last years leaves,
as if there were trees
In a scorching new summer

They decided by mutual acclamation
that they were searching now
A quest had been undertaken
By accidental serendipity
Or so they believed,
among themeselves
To find a way -
To no longer be
in this place of dust
With its winds,
and fierce sands
The kind the stings your eyes,
grits your teeth
sands your clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month of same such
Make's your light heart -
heavy.

But lacking a compass
or even knowledge of one
Or any real idea of how to travel
they moved in circles
for many's the long time
Never really sure they were,
arguing........ always
This is probably what kept them alive,
or at least
That is what many now believe
Their arguing - their fighting
this generates interest,
and interest keeps you alive
But still in spite of all this,
they weren't really
Getting -
Anywhere.................

Once in their travels,
they came upon a walled city
They knocked hard the gates,
made of a redded, felted wood
Soft to the touch,
like a hide of a living creature,
or rough carpet
"What do you want?!"  
"Who are you, state your business please!"
Cried the Gatekeeper to them
As this was his role
in the proceedings, you see;
And he didn't get to do it often
Very few people came
through the wastes,
unless.......Compelled -
by one reason or another
So he was overdramatizing (a little),
But we can forgive him,
his job was
quite boring,
after all.

Help us! They cried
We want to leave
this dusty dry place
Full of bleached sheep bones,
black stones
And red rocks;
with that dust,
The dust that stings our eyes
grits our teeth
sands our clothing
and small possessions
And after a many month
of wandering
And wondering
It has made our once -
light hearts
heavy
with opression
For now we cannot
perform our tasks
This place is too harsh for us,
We are only poeple,
and wanderers, after all

"Ah, I see!", the gatekeeper declaimed
A little over dramatically (yet again)
"So you are lost then,
my wanderers?"  
No!  Said several of the more......
outspoken wanderers.
There are always
a few outsoken people
in any group,
(Unless it's a group for shy people,
Of course).
"We, know precisely
where we are, -
We are in the dusty waste
at your gates!
We just don't want to be here!,
we want to be inside!"

At that, the Gatekeeper
opened the door
Slowly and surely
but with many creaks and groans
And inside, inside.....well -
There was a dusty city,
But just like outside
With unkempt streets
filled with goats, dogs, people
Unruly Children,
playing with dried out wood dolls
Angry woman -
murmuring to each other
And irritated men -
watching the angry women
"Come in if you wish" he said.
For we were all as you are now
Once....................................

To be continued.
Second draft of part 1
Mar 2014 · 389
Before the sun sets
I wish I could follow
the sun sometimes;
I mean across the face of earth
Because, of course
You cannot follow such objects
in their own domain
For these are places
of fire and energy
And not places
for beings' frail
and made of water
such as us.

But to follow it's line
across the world,
My longitude
never changing,
or swerving
from one side or another
but remaining
exactly held in place,
trapped like mechanisms
in Harrison's clock
To watch and observe
the difference between ocean,
land and sea
Between islands
and continents,
between peoples
Of one sort or another.

Would I be entranced,
or would I get bored of it?
I really don't know,
To tell truth
and there are many things
I really don't know.  
The unknown unknowns,
as someone said once.
Even lots of the knowns
If I'm being honest with myself
Today for at least.

I wonder would I pass
close by him
on my linear exursion,
That clever American,
Or maybe
an Atlantic fisherman
Frozen on his deck
or simply bump into
the ordinary people
So many apologies!  
"It's not me" I'd say
It's the sun, you see!  
I am bound!
They would laugh
I presume.

We know so little,
and yet we presume much,
From such a.....
Slight perspective.....
that keeps trying to jam
The meaning of
the Universe itself
Into something so small,
so short, so simple
and so quick..............
that humans....
Even humans
can signify it;
Give it our own meaning
Independent of itself, it's truth
by our language,
our maths or logic
As if such things
were possible,
or a pre-requiste
of existence
As if........
Sunday March 30th 2014
Mar 2014 · 328
The morning before.......
Speaking sometimes,
I feel the verbs and nouns
fall from my mouth
Prepositions in hands,
I try to gather them up
and move on
But I cannot, as sometimes words
will only work once

That only comes with time,
this realization
that there are things you cannot....
Take back,
even when you want to stop the game
and go back to your normal
You cannot......

So, was it the morning before?
Or perhaps the evening after,
when I realized that you were
no longer................
The person, with whom
I wanted to share my life?

Such a small thing in a way,
aye, few spoken words
Some anger,
you were always angry though
Weren't you?
And after you got up to go,
With contempt in your eyes
but hurt in your stance
All I felt............................
Was that I was finally free.
Written in Dublin, 2013
Mar 2014 · 547
Cold Sun is Shining Bright
I am out, a world of hazes, these oranges and yellows
Lighting the fields in cresents of coloured airs

Creatures that live at this time of year, and wake
I hear scurries, scuttles, and the occasional yelp

I feel dull pain, but lessened by tramadol and palaxia
Sun makes me drunk on the high tide of cold spring

Life is shining again onto another dead winter past
And soon it will be green and greener still
In this country island home of mine

I work to keep me occupied, and occupied
To keep resentment away, for feeling
wronged, when perhaps there is no such thing

Right and wrong, now there's a rub he'd say
I need to know it, I need the knowing of it like all
men and women

Am I right or am I wrong? or does it matter
When the dull grey soil cares so little about
Those it takes, when end time comes

But I take joy where joy is, and I see it now
Splashed across the sky in pastel gauze yellow
And these slight mauve clouds, I thank the god that
made such things possible.

The end.
Written on a spring day in Ireland 2014 looking west toward the horizon at noon.
Mar 2014 · 717
Inside her/me/we
I am inside her, Every move
I feel it; I am lost/found
Thoughts, feel, The sight
Glimpses of her - *******
******* touch me, gentle perfect
Cockhard, this love

Her navel to *******
Beard on milk skin.  Behind, the beat move
Her moans are.....Infections, they
Fill me with tiny Virui of lusts
sweetly whispered, then......
Acted upon
Oh I want to *** - on you, in you
Please, she whispers
I need you to - **** me
I need you too, I need you too

Hair, it moves, but I want to see
Her face, observe/witness
Her quiet fierceness,
with **** walled inside
As she rides, then her small wail
As she touches herself, just there
As we are joined, her ***, breaks,
On me, i revel in it, every drop
Every part of her - I am hers.

Feet, knees, long *****, tigh ***
I will mold them all
With my tongue and fingers
Till she is,  and is again
Now you come, and again
Reins held, she has me
I want to be in prison
With this one, just alone
She and I
This is a work in progress
Mar 2014 · 754
Waking in dread
I dreamt last night
I often dream,
A wyrd ship was bound from
Holyhead, Wales
To Spitzbergen, Norway
Or some Such...........
Melting Arctic place
We moved around
Inside, nightclubs,
Alcohol, drugs a sense of not
Belonging there.

Then I awake
Slowly at first, that
Feeling, eyes
Opening, consciousness
registering surrounding
Yes, this is remembered
reality.  Lazing on a
Chilly afternoon.
Zyprexa dreams make
You shiver
Effexor lullabies
Cause cold stomach
Fears in mornings;
Or afternoons, if one
is not to lie........
Don't lie, why bother
The truth is so much......
simpler

My mind recalls lines
From songs
The Pixies/Black Francis
"Where is my mind?"
Where indeed, Mr. Black
The Beatles
"She loves you"
She does love me
They are right,
Thank my God.....

I shiver and run for
The kitchen, coffee
And rivotril
Makes ease, sooths me
Even cigarettes are electronic now
Thank you...it's better
Mr. 21st Century, you're
Quite the inventor
An unopened iPad, Apple Air
Steve Jobs 16 Gb
He died, you know
But that's the Beatles Apple
Isn't it?
You naughty boy Steve,
Lennon and Harrison
Must be scolding you
In the V.I.P. afterlife where -
Famous people go

She rings me,
I cannot walk, not yet
My mind is still too full of
Fears, and sharp edges
But later perhaps
I will.  It's good to walk
It lets your feet talk
To the ground
And the ground
around here that is,
is As good a place as any
To ground oneself
Is it not?
There is a time in man's life
When words will not come
When seas will not fill
When abstinence will not entertain
The sight of heart's desire

At a moment,
he will know ******
Was always in his heart
Should her be harmed
He will find all words
Have been taken from him

She, knowing, unknowing shall smile
And pass a brief hour or day
Not knowing, that time now
The tide has turned
Toward her, deep fault lines open
And the moon's course altered
By one degree
of love's meridian line
Closer............

Woman hear this,
and beware........
As a man is in love with you,
and love in all
As a thing in itself,
Does not love you, or he,
For that matter,
But only propagates itself
For it's own designs
Cold and lofty
To frail human hearts
Oft to your advantage
But often not........

So know, you cannot.......
Stop, what has been written
By love's desire
Once these moments come
And small white stones
And Atlantic hillsides
Will remember
in an Irish muteness
That the greatest of waves
oft occur.................
When no human stands
To see them crash, like cradle milk
Into the dark, black rock.

And Love is more powerful
as this
And more,
than the star is
to a penny candle
So let your words go
Let only time, as old
and deep, decide

For you are powerless,
as the gull
And grass in tufts
Pulled and pushed
By force no man or woman
Could ever control
That all is
as it should be
Whatever is to be.
A poem written in remembrance of a day, spent in Love in late 2013, on Achill Island, Co. Mayo.
Feb 2014 · 439
The Love Cat
She purrs, the love cat
Her space on her favorite cushion
She makes space for herself,
On a couch I don't own, but may as well now
That's because everything I own
Really belongs
To her, actually I guess
And maybe we both know that
Naturally......................

I'd give it freely anyway,
But that's not fun
For a cat,
so she take titbits
Just for fun,
Cats like fun
Sometimes, and
other times they are
Serious in intent.
She leaves reminders
Of when she's been, here
In my territory
to keep other cats
In their place, which is important
If she is not here
the Love Cat is a very clever feline
So she likes to poke and hide

Yes, she is a curious one, but then
Isn't that what makes us  
clever tomcats fall
From sash windows of lofty
seemed safety.....
into the streets of love,
where all the Toms
and love cats are
seeking mates
and vicious fights
with nothing to lose;
side tooth and rear claw
Break out often

Yes, but aye, we are mated
if you must know,
that love cat and I
By natures' old laws
Her in woolen scarves and odd socks
Me in baggy pants
and flannel grey T-shirts
Don't tell me how,
but we know.

Sometimes we play in the linen
Like all our feline companions
Other-times we just lie and stare
Into curious sets of eyes,
A staring competition
Between loving predators,
In love with each other
Bright and fiercely
But perhaps
not in love
with the world itself


Paul 2014
February 2014
She, herself, will be,
soon be here - come.
Coming here.  Here.
Into this refuge of ours.
This cave
This palace
Her hips, make me
nervous for they move
So very well
In my arms, her twinkle
In my eyes
Her love, I love
In my hands

I think of her more
I am finding,  
as each day passes,
And they say
you're supposed to.......
Get used to this?
I don't want to
Why would anyone
want to get used to this?
It is intoxication of
The soul, a madness
Made before we
Invented our own
lesser versions.

It's too important
to ever become
Some smallish event
Her arrival, to me
In our refuge
Our cave
Our palace
It's like the first rain
for many days
as it touches
A dried out
forest floor

Little creatures scurry,
in case it's only dew,
and soon will be done
and gone;
But I don't need
to do that.
She is no line of dew
In the bower
of shaded hazel
But a torrent
from the old heavens
Drowning me,
in content.
As the night grows older;
and evening crosses the water
I find myself talking
To a New York Jew,
A old friend of mine

We talk about Marx
A utopian, but no fool
I tell him he must go to bed,
It's late in New York
Even later here..........
We talk some more of money
And the morality of it's use

As I await my lawyer,
To give me some bad news

I think of God now, no Atheist I
But then I think of time
As the eyes mist
And the thoughts die
And I should be so helpless
Who once was full of pride
Feb 2014 · 666
The watchers in the night
I am alone
A radio plays a slavonic composer
In forgetfulness
In my darkened kitchen
I wish I could bury my face
For tonight, I am alone

A silver plastic bracelet round my neck
It reminds me clear
That there is a true life, and a woman
All is worth fighting for
If I am allowed
If I am allowed

Her love is like a bright blue star
In a dying nebula
But gas, dust and ice
From another age
Compete to reflect her light
Away from my heart
And pull me into the long darkness

But as long as that light shines
I shall never really be alone
Though the pain of my silence and night terror
Come to claim my sanity
Her light, it shines, like an oasis of mercy
In a wide wide place of unforgiving
And something stronger than steel wire
Guides me toward her
Feb 2014 · 429
The Ring
We were flirting with hopes
of a minor disaster
When we entered
the ring
But servants of the public
are like that,
leaving responsibility
To the powers
greater than themselves.

Fate was not long in catching up
anyway,
But first we had
to walk that ring
Through edges
wide and narrow
Dangerous space
and mossy walls
And when
I lifted you down
From the banked
dry stones
By your waist
The thrill
of your beauty
Almost
Snapped my wrists

But you don't believe
in such things
as the power of
old drystone rings
You're a romantic
of a different kind
With power and words
within your mind
But I'm an actor,
and like to play
At being a druid,
if for a day
And the magic of
watching you;
Climb your way
over thousands of years,
That stays with me.
*Even still
Paper, black ink on white fibre
The promise
An empty house beside a pointless lake
I would see the ducklings
Waddling through the houses
Mother always to the front, was she not?

And remember.......... the promise
I was your rock, you said
Dry tears in puffed out eyes,
ran black with shale eye paint
Your plans so thwarted............. as always.

Now, you want me to throw myself from it
But I promise, that this rock is mine, not yours'
Nor shall you climb it again,
And I shall not jump until it is my time
To live in the dusty valley underneath the earth
So for now, I give it to another,
Who simply understands pity
Written at 3.44am 19th February 2014 by Paul Galbally
Feb 2014 · 190
Would you?
You, were just someone
I would see
You
Never realizing what you meant
to me

If I was good enough?

Would you?

Now I know you
I see you
You stop, we say
Hello
I like to think you want me.....
That some things
You don't show........

If I was good enough

Would you?
Feb 2014 · 493
Haiku, February 13th 2014
Hunny bo; shuns nightmare crowd
Bub responds with worried phrase, next day
Driving and raining solves *all

— The End —