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May 2020 · 239
You were mine,
                           A Wildflower.

Sprout up in the most unlikely of places,
Peaking yellow and green through the copper chipped bricks,
You spread out, wrapped around my hand,
we grew together.

Iridescent - reflecting each other.

Until - your grip loosened,
Once effervescent,
I watched your colour fade -
Now waned, wilted, worn.

I tried to love you back to life -
Though I don't know you anymore.
all colours fade when exposed to direct sunlight
Apr 2020 · 173
For all things there is a season, a time for everything under the sun.
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather.
But -
Forgive me, if i spend my whole life questioning this -

Why is it my lot in life to work and be happy with it.
Am i nothing but a brick in the wall.
A mist that appears for a drop of time and then vanishes.
Merely a stem - some may bud, the lucky will flower
but all will wither and fade away.

Forgive me, when i say this -
For why should evil stick his face in mine and mock my happiness.
I am selfish, I am ungrateful
How can I enjoy this fellowship with injustice?
Where Love stands, hate reigns.
Where Peace sings, war screams.
Where Happiness dances, sadness breaks its bones.
Where Breath lives, darkness suffocates it.
This is human - self-destruction,
Created in love but born to sin.
We know of nothing else, until we find
You -
Ardent patience, Yearning salvation -

This is human - saved for nothing.
I hate that I’m used to you being gone.
I hate that I don’t see you in every corner of life.
I hate that I only see you in the small things,
When somebody mentions they hate broccoli or loves chips.

(you passed that on to me you know, I think I could rival your love for chips)

When I hear someone recount a childhood story of scouts or -
When I hear bing crosby being played -
When I see an old steam train in a museum or -
When I see an old man playfully stick out his dentures at a child.

I hate that I’m used to you being gone.
I hate that I have to trigger the memories of you.
That I have the remind myself of who you were and what you loved,
That I think of you everyday but I’ve grown used to it.

(I’ll always remember your hands but the placement of the pale skin patches are fading)

I hate that I’m used to you being gone.
I hate that I felt closer to you when you had just left.
I noticed every small detail,
though it brought so - much - pain
little pieces of you still echoed.
a pillow you were the last one to touch,
a mug you had used the day before, a horizontally striped polo that still smelt like silvikrin and extra strong mints.

- but now your echo has gone silent and I have to go searching to find it
and it gets quieter every time.
Jan 2020 · 299

Sometimes blue - oppressing, coercing dreams.
Or red - threatening, cautioning tales.
Often amber - dubious, ambiguous notions.
Or grey - obscured, absent, oblivion.

Never green - calling, coaxing, purpose,
Peace of heart, peace of mind,
A piece of Something that feels like Mine,

instead -
the constant struggle of my life, the door of the future stands in front of me, changing every time i blink, someday it will open but for now -
Jan 2020 · 351
A Winters Cloud
I open my door - to the brisk December air,
Each breath as Fresh as the mornings First -
Through my Frosted airways -
A Winter Cloud exhaled.
Nov 2019 · 330
Stop Thinking.
Stop thinking.
The thought of you is poison to my Love.
my real Love.
You are but a thought - a what if lingering on the tip of my tongue,
there is no use wasting thoughts on what if’s.
Nothing good will come of it
Nothing good will come of us - there is no us.

Stop thinking
You are a virus, a fading voice, a fading joke, a fading laugh
that’s all we had.
Nothing more - but not nothing,
unspoken, unheard.
Yet, I saw It in your eyes
and I saw It reflecting in mine.
Stop thinking.
I love to place myself in the mind of a character I’ve watched or read about and write from their perspective.
Jun 2019 · 387
A lament don Ghaeilge

A language
in my Blood
but not - on my tongue.

The prose and poetry of my ancestors
fallen - on deaf ears.

When did we accept this anglicized assonance,
to marr the seanchaithe tale of soil and air?

The Land of Saints and Scholars -
speaking words from others tongues.
Jan 2019 · 907
I never fully understood the meaning of the  word “mourn” until this year -
To truly feel the loss of another concentrated in its purest form.

I never believed when others would say
“I miss you more, in  each and every day” or
“There’s not an hour goes by, without a thought of you on my mind”
As if Loss is an unforgotten constant in the trails of the trivial,
We are only human after all.

But I was naive, through and through.
Loss never leaves your side once you meet
Loss is a friend for life.
The kind that shows their face in the most unpredictable moments,
Who never fades away or falls out,
Becoming more aquatinted as we go through life.

Loss is selfish, wanting our undivided attention,
Expecting us to indulge in its deep dark thoughts with strong pretension.

Loss is harsh, not hiding nor sugarcoating any enemy attack,
Facing us with the reality of control and just how much we lack.

Loss is bitter, Loss is unkind
Loss is a thief, stealing our piece of mind.

Loss is jealous, Loss is sly.
Is it absent of Love,
Or has Love left it’s side?
Oct 2018 · 535
Dance A Drift
When I dance with you,
I am at Peace.

When your hand rests -
in the arch of my back
and mine -
on the curve of your shoulder -

I drift away.

in the slow steps,
following your feet -
along the melody,
syncing with beat.
Closer, I pull you
Closer into me,
while you whisper quietly,
the words I need to breathe.
Sep 2018 · 14.9k
Me Too.
She takes the stand
With the voice of millions on her back
And speaks the fact that we all know,
far too well to be true -                  
                                           Me too.

She is heard but not believed,
She is heard with faith deceived .

When will it be enough -
Is one in six not enough ?
Is one sister, one friend
still - not enough?

one colleague, one mother, one wife, one lover -
one teacher, one doctor, one preacher, one author -
one husband, one son, one brother.
Which one will it take, to stop
the non-consensual clock
and make us realise that -

Time. Is. Up.
Sep 2018 · 696
What can I say for you to believe that you are enough.
and I don’t need to decorate enough with “good”
because your version of enough is good in itself.

You are my All,
my Everything,
without even trying.
Aug 2018 · 615
Why Time?
Who are we?

What am I?

Who makes me breathe?

What makes me cry?

Who counts the hours?
I’m told it’s Time
But who is he
to draw MY lines?

Why fascinate
on trivial life?
Why - curb - what’s - slow
and what flashes by?

Why build me walls
On season and sun,
On passion and memory
On dusk and on dawn?

Why steal my moments,
to not give back?
Why age my YOUTH!
with wrinkle and crack?

Why take away?

Why break apart?

Why pick a ‘day’ - to stop a heart.
Aug 2018 · 327
Slow, Blissful, Close.
Tonight, we danced -


And in that moment - I realised -
that I can never dance without you again.
Jul 2018 · 579
I want to live.

I want to savour the taste of adventure on my lips - as I take a breath
in the first air of June,

I want to throw my eyes into the sky until I'm soaring - through
Cloud and Sunray,
on the brim of Sea and the edge of Horizon.

They'll take me in,
with a warm welcoming wave of wonderwhy
and I'll question the day -


that I was scared to step outside.
Jun 2018 · 405
each time my lips touch yours
it's like the first
                                      but More.
Jun 2018 · 341
i lost my mind, along with you.
such silent words brought violent hues,
they linger in my living room,
they echo through, they echo you.

while the dusk sinks down to dawn
and whispers winds until its gone,
your ghost is all that carries on,
it echoes through, it echoes you.
Jun 2018 · 6.6k
Talk to me,
I haven't heard your voice enough
For it to taunt me.

Talk to me,
Your silence is the only song
That comes to haunt me.
May 2018 · 868
My Mind - is not My own.
My Mind - is not My own.

It is the sleepless nights,
the empty stares,
the half-hearted comments
the quickening breaths.

It is the clouded days,
the fizzling thoughts
the fear that is constant

My Mind - it is not.
May 2018 · 306
I'm not sure where to begin -
I haven't been the same since you left.

But in amongst all that was lost,
I cannot find my grief -
I have hid behind the others for so long
That mine has fallen underneath.

Though right now - I feel some ease,
My heartbeat - flickers - My thoughts run quicker.
If I could somehow find my feet
I'd find some purpose,

                           I'd find some peace.
The Lord is my Shepherd.
May 2018 · 209
i love when You speak - soft.

as if the whole world is listening to Your voice
but i'm the only one You want,
to hear
the sweetest words You say.
sweet speak words love world quiet couple two
May 2018 · 435
You leave a mark where you stand,
the kind that doesn't fade easily.
like a flower, sprouted
from the shadow of your footprint
and made a bed for tired little me.

— The End —