September 18, 2017

The Non Poet

You don't 'write' poetry,

It writes you

pencils, pens and playlists

There's no formula.

You fight because you know

It's not enough

It never is

You sit there on the bed

Or on a train

In a place

With a seat

You cannot stand and write poetry

Your knees get weak

and fingers can't move fast enough

The rhythm is off

A distracting cough


It's there inside everyone

You pour yourself into this dead tree

Feel the life leave

Your che...

September 18, 2017

The Best Way to Tell a Story

Perhaps it's through an intricate dance 

that perfectly depicts each twist a turn of emotion

Each beat of the drum now the beat of your heart

That dances along to a steady rhythm 

And prevents it from racing

Maybe it's through a piece of music 

where once graceful fingers begin to forcefully press keys 

Or pluck strings just the slightest bit harder 

til the anger is hardly recognisable 

now disguised...

September 12, 2017

Alas, besieged by his own thoughts, a nameless man sits in his shadow stained cell. How long have I been here, he asked himself, days, weeks, months... years, I cannot even see the flesh of mine own hands. The black cells, the guards called them, meant only for the vilest of creatures, for people like me, he thought, but he had long forgotten himself. The guards came to torment him in their boredom, sometimes giving him...

September 7, 2017

From Jim Nolan to Peter Sirr, Waterford has been home to some of the finest authors, poets and dramatists over its illustrious 1100 year history, and now, with a love of literature at the helm, a group of young writers from Waterford Youth Arts are to take siege of the city for one jam-packed weekend. Their mission: To breathe a passion for poetry and prose into the hungry lungs of young people from the 10th-11th of Nov...

September 7, 2017

My Great Aunt Chrissie" is a poem I wrote about my Great Aunt who died in a mother and baby home during the 1950's. It discusses how Irish society treated these "fallen women" and likens it to the way we now as a country treat women who are left with no option but to seek abortions in the United Kingdom. This is how I wanted to stand out and scream in the name of the Repeal the 8th movement, to stand up for Irish women...

September 7, 2017

I Have a Friend Who Writes

I have a friend who writes

Writes, with a pen and paper

Instead of a keyboard.

Her pen scratching against the surface

As her words pour out Like water from a dam.

She only writes in blue pen.

Maybe because black is too dark

Or maybe because blue pens are cheaper.

The ink does not just wander onto the page.

It builds up behind her eyes

Presses against her brain

Longing to get out.

They flow

Down her arterie...

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