Sunday, July 23, 2017

A colon-wrenching verse

When the alphabet was blown from the branches
and commas were sitting bare,
a question mark swooped like an eagle
to carry one off to its lair.

My daughter released an exclamation mark
which got tangled up in her hair,
then a full stop arrived from out of the blue
to end the sordid affair. 

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Two lovers were

Two lovers were waves of a gentle sea,
one on the other:
two crests, three hollows
surging, rolling, breaking
in ecstatic unison
in the red-orange glow
of a setting sun
that once sat on their bedside table.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017


I was in a hawthorn,
trapped in its branches;
all arms, hands and fingers
prevailing on me not to struggle.

I was an exhibit in a jar,
ragged and shock-eyed,
praying for a passer-by
where ravens perch still for hours.

I was a storm-torn tatter
caught in another’s stitching;
my cries drifting into the air
nonchalant like dandelion seeds.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

A small but not insignificant story of Dublin

I’m standing under a tree, out of a  shower,
and when it’s over, I stay there, under the tree.
A police car arrives, they’re wondering what I’m doing:
they’ve received a report ( I saw the people in the house opposite looking):
a man’s standing under a tree on Leinster Lane,
he’s wearing a “suspicious raincoat”.

Suspicious raincoat!
My Dad’s (God be good to him) white mack!

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

A dog called Goya

A dog called Goya.

That oh so normal expression
mired in what?

The morass
in which, everyday, I cannot find my legs

and ominous shadow
that lurks, always, beyond reach;

the equivocations
designed to drown.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017


                                            The whole countryside’s afluster:

a tree is screaming,the meadows quivering,
boulders have clapped hands over their ears.

The word is that the stars have been burgled,
a stream’s stolen the silver,
and a cave, (whisper it), has swallowed the moon.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Goodbye You

If I look back, you will dwindle.
You standing on the pier,
waving from the harbour,

Goodbye you
from kiss to hand,
to harbour,

The wake widens
and ocean swallows
harbour, town,

SurVision: new online poetry magazine

SurVision, Issue 1, is now online. This new biannual poetry magazine will publish Irish and international neo-surrealist poetry in English. The editor, Anatoly Kudryavitsky, will consider work by unpublished as well as celebrated writers, and aims, very admirably, to keep the waiting time to no more than two months. It’s a generous read and the quality of the work is high.  Find Issue 1 at . Submissions for Issue 2 are currently being considered. 

Issue 3 of AvantAppal(achia) is now live: see Like Survision AvantAppal(achia) is open to international submissions in English.