Addressed to Galway


To my Galway boy,
how I would love to write you poetry,
but the need has not yet risen.
I’m sorry for the loss, if the loss is what you’re feeling.


What do they call you from Galway town?
What is it you’re escaping from?


Fate, deceit, broken-hearted
You must have left behind something.


My boy from Galway town, so pretty.
Proud and tall, just like the songs you sung.
How has your island served you wrong?


My Galway man, my Irish dear,
Blue eyes so fair and strong.
Looking at you creates forever, but know my forever won’t be long.


Ask me not for words
ask me not for verse.
Forgive me please, my wordless heart.


What do they call you from Galway town?
I confess I’ve never been.
Take me along your troubles –
introduce me somewhere to begin.

Will you let me hold your name tonight

Will you let me hold your name tonight?

– My darling dream, a living verse. –


To grant me your name, to whisper it close.

– Is a pleasure, I pray to prove my worth. –


Forgive me, please, in not making it clear. It is not your beauty that traps me within this curse.

Your stature, your voice, the look in your eyes.

Within four minutes how I wished you to be mine.


The possession of love, is it right in the end?

To play a monopoly of affection

shall only just end.

I wish you to be mine, but

only in the hope of mutual hope.


Revise my sentiment! Reclaim my name.

I wish only to proceed if you desire the same.


On the cusp of two worlds one verse came,

but vanished when the former overtook the latter.

A battle decreed, a battle to mark

the space of a filled mind partnered with an empty heart.


A metre and rhyme for all

to consider, repeated and repined

but only for an unanswered letter.


Wrought with the ink of a blackened edge,

etchings of sorrows that will never be written again.

Action Potential

This will be a post about falling.

Crashing hard and scraping your face against the rough pavement, your shins skidding the road.

No matter how hard you try, you can never quite get over the turn.

Others can, others will, but you still have to learn how to slow down and clutch the gear shift, hoping this time will be different.

But oops, there you go again, flying out of the car through the glass and the wind.


I’ve always been afraid of heights, even at times my own.

Not so much as the height from my feet to the ground, but the length of the fall.

Fee, fei, we all fall  down.


Eventually, anyway.


I’ve never understood the lengths people will go to avoid something. To break a habit. To change the curse.

But the hole and the fall and the fog that brought it on has hardened my heart to that lesson.

I’ve learnt, but I’ve unlearnt something else – how quickly memories fade.


Here I am, about to fall.

Catch me if you can.