Tag Archives: shealey wallace

A Lover Denied

Who would wear a ring so tainted?
I threw it in the Liffey green
And as they say, what’s done is done.
And at least am I free of the reverie.

Who would wear a token so tainted
Who would wear something so tainted now?
I dropped it in the Liffey green and didn’t stay to see it sink.

The token denied by a lover fair
Or who was fair and kind until he
denied my pride of farewell nice.

What did you expect me to do
but only resolve to say good to
a bad bye?

I had given you my token
but yet twice you at once denied
my young love and
old pride.

Now who makes the fool? The one that
apologised or the one who
Threw a ring in calm Liffey green?

Once we departed and once I
called you back. Once I offered
you my ring of luck and love.
And twice you denied and made
my unluck unloved.

And now you ask forgiveness
and treaty me peace. But it
was not me that tainted such a token
But it was me who threw it away.

Who would wear a ring so tainted?
I threw it in the Liffey green
And as they say, what’s done is done.
And now free am I from this reverie.

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The Tale of the Girl with No Name: Part Two

Far away, not so long ago,
Lived a Girl with No Name,
who went her entire life thinking she knew
when to turn her head, ears open wide.

Two sun circulations ago she met a boy with
a Lovely Name, the most lovely of names that could
grace her uneven lips. He taught her that
what she knew was no longer true:
She had no Name, She never Did. She never Would.
The closest thing she’d be was a useless ‘you’.

A You she Was – that must be the truth.

What she felt versus what was true meant
that her heart grew apart.
Wandering far from the Boy with the Lovely name,
a man she met with an Ugly Name.

And all in one night, she was given
her old-name-that-never-was.

But when she heard the old familiar ring
echo from the even mouth, she no longer recognised
the sounds. She didn’t know what they meant.
When she heard her Name, She didn’t like it one
bit.

She declined the new man,
Though his intentions were true.

She ran back to the one who erased
the name, and would only know the arms
of all the later men who would.

A You she Was – that was the truth.

That’s where her worth was.

Addressed to UK

The width of your face,
the slight of your nose –
both of these had, enough of it so
to cause my mind, trying and fighting,
to create memories of romance with you.

The slight of his nose, but only just slight
enough – to wonder if you too were
held within his heart.

I miss you. I love you.
I hate the cursed sea and
timezones
that farther away you from me.

The size of your forehead
that I would caress. I
wished to know this strange man –
to ask him one request:

Do you know my Love,
do you miss him as me?
Let’s exchange stories of
how Life used to be.

Do you know my Love,
whose faults still a bound,
but with a will that wants
to turn those wrongs around?

Do you know my Captain?
If you don’t then you should.
How I would hold him to me,
as he would with me.

With a name so haunting, with a soul
as so strong. If you don’t know my Love,
then it won’t be for long.

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.

Five Haikus

Five Haikus written in two hours.

Haiku One:               Come back, my current

    Lover, depart no more please.

    Lost, lacking repose.

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Haiku  Two:               Repose remains lost;

        Slipping from found to never more.

    Depart no more, please?

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Haiku  Three:               I have forgotten;

       the feel of beats of your pulse

      stowed under your shirt.

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Haiku  Four:               I detest the thought

    of them ruining your name

    quelling its beauty.

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Haiku  Five:               Relearning to live

     without persistent presence

     of you. Am failing.