To Sleep Or Not To Sleep
To sleep
perchance to...snore!
I can only dream
of peaceful sleep.
Like MacBeth
you've murdered sleep.
My sleep!
Ay, there's the rub!
I lie awake
misquoting Shakespeare
to myself.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Little Crocues Of Happiness
At first
the loss
& the world losing
all meaning
nothing
meaning
anyt hing
anymore
& then the loss
of the loss
& the world
finding you
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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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In the Bright Colours of Love
Our tongues
like little fishes
darting in & out
of each other's mouth.
Here...a playful
little fish.
Here...a fish
vivid with lust.
There...
a fish
arrayed
in the bright
colours of love.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Searching Still
In a 1000 years
from now
my ghost
hunting for a scrap...a word...a trace
of you
still unwilling
to let go
of you
despite death
despite time
searching still...
...for the touch of your hand.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Lost Now In Twilight
Leaving London
the train pushes deep
into the countryside's
heart
a knife
between ribs
quiet as Death
the snow
seeming to grow
trees
simply to support
itself.
Snow & tree creatures
lost now in twilight.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Le Palais Des Glaces (House of Mirrors)
“Les Parapluies De Harringey! ”
“Ah, Camberwell...Mon Amour! ”
“Last Tango In Brixton! ”
“Last Year in Holloway! ”
All over London
we lived our love
as if it were
a classic French movie.
Ah, mais...qui!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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AS WHITE AS QUIET(for Ruthie)
Snow
on the Boulevard Saint-Michel
someone...somewhere...singing
can't make out
where it's coming from
so that it seems
the snow is singing
'Nessun' Dorma! '
the snow sings
'Nessun' Dorma! '
until all
is white
as quiet.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Like The Weather
Sunny glorious
you were like the weather
enveloping me in blue
pleading: “Please…believe me...! ”
So, I believed in you.
But, like the weather
you changed
and so it comes to pass
I hear
in Winter
the hollowness
of your laugh.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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What Pleasure Will Befall Me!
Your mouth
luscious & wet
kissing now the back
now the front
of my arching neck
its bliss
flitting like a butterfly
from kiss
to kiss
awaiting with anticipation
what pleasure
will befall me
as your lips
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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Memory 69,699 - Again!
The wind skirts
the lake
fingering the hem
of your skirt
before lifting it to
take a peak
underneath.
Wot a cheek!
Wot a cheek!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
Naughty wind!
...naughty!
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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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