Poems
John Walsh
I met Emily Dickinson down on Grafton Street. /
On a Saturday afternoon, there was hardly room /
to sneeze. When I first saw her, I was fascinated /
by her hair, tied back in a bun. I just stood / ...
Category:Poetry
Poems
Val Nolan
Before the by-pass /
This had been the by-pass. /
Fields of sick conifers. Tender verges. /
Black birds hacking at a multitude / ...
Poems
Paul McMahon
She put her small nose, pierced with a pearl, /
To the open gramophone of the flowers, /
One then the other, breathing both in, /
Before getting up and walking casually / ...
Poems
Rita Ann Higgins
The fates are on a bank holiday weekend /
showing off around the long wards. /
The spinner spins herself /
into a menacing match with a melanoma / ...
Poems
Ryan Dennis
It is the commerce of farmers with hands in their pockets. /
It is used by old wives /
and the things they’ve known not having. /
The stains in his pants are scattered language, / ...
Poems
Trevor Conway
The tiptoe of rain /
Tapping as we huddle /
Under the black umbrella. /
Curves: your cheek, / ...
Poems
Sandra Bunting
This place called Galway /
has other names, sea names, secret names. /
It beckoned to us many years ago, /
then turned us into familiar figures, / ...
Three Sonnets
Mark Simos
A sonnet is a form of rails and bars /
And not much like the gossamer spider’s web /
A foursquare scaffold toward the circling stars /
Be kind to old, forgotten clothes
Michael Hazani
Be kind to old, forgotten clothes /
Of which you're eager to dispose, /
To ancient woolen sweaters which /
Her Diary
John D. Lippincott
It hides among shadows beneath her bed /
With shoestring wrapped around to keep it closed. /
I quickly read my name in streaks of blue /
Across a page of cluttered memories. /