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Stillorgan Stories
Where I grew up Dublin city, well southside of it Pale walls, far outside of it Once a farm haven now a thriving Young metropole Tired of being bold selling metric ton bowls, tired old soul Perhaps earlier we had been pinched misdemeaning We’d eat Aprile’s chips on the billboard of an evening Above Glenalbyn…
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S l a y e r
Now it’s out Slayer’s life must be lived without doubt A trader in court cases, usually young bowing out No barcodes or labels what I’m slinging out Police scanner, reaching across to grab a hand, yelling “Duck down!” No scanning at checkout, checking out my duckdown, youthful fountain If you wanna show fealty, I’ll get…
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Quayside musings
A portly pillar of spilled teeth moonlight ensorcelled the crane-tattooed water Overhead, impossible butter light from brotherless stars snuffed out in antient time Without as much as a snarl, yet every night they are restarted from death Love and oblivion twinned in the wind-worn idol of Astarte In the lane abutting, cardboard alight in a…
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alchemisland, art, bard, bars, city, creative writing, descriptive, dublin, imagination, ireland, irish, meaning, midnight, neuralchemy, nighttime, OC, occult, poem, poet, poet’s corner, poetblr, poetics, poetry, poetry community, poetryblr, rhymer, rhyming, spilled ink, spilled poetry, urban, words words words, writeblr, writer, writing -
Habit sticker
Lonely, smoking bones in lanes with dozy menaces Three days without sleeping, pores seeping out haze Bright lightful bringer of flame, crew a light brigade from Tennyson’s pages Seeing hues of changing seasons in the splayed canopy of greenest St. Stephen’s They come and I’ve got it, they gum it to feel iconic, that’s the…
alchemisland
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