On Seeing Semele

On Seeing Semele  By Martin Hanley  Dedicated to my sister Marian, who died on the 25 th of April 2013. Surrounded by the living, Semele walks her path alone. Safe now from Decadron that bitter-sweet antonym has come undone. Semele bloated and beckoning; a turgid Styx, a melanoid sun. Gentle hazel in the moonlight like glistening pools they haunt me as wheezing gasps echo in the room next door but one. Semele, still waiting as three sisters weave and their eternal thread is spun. Her short-term; your long-term in a rain-soaked pastel hospice; her senses now numb. Syndromes and charts masked … Continue reading On Seeing Semele

An Unmentioned Silence

An Unmentioned Silence By Martin Hanley Swept away within a boundless and unmentioned silence. Where the sea arrives, it always returns and we, still troubled by its sharp circumference, remain loyal; forever drowning. Never triumphant, never boasting, but tender like a dark rain that endlessly pours to caress and soothe the souls’ inner fires. Sweeping away life’s endless woes, forever breaking the chains of time and glory. Its very essence contrives to own us, to charm the reticent, too reluctant and resigned. No heavy stillness can now remain here. No other witness, as twin worlds together combine. Still toiling and turning … Continue reading An Unmentioned Silence

Waking to be Woken

Waking to be woken By Martin Hanley Numb and shivering, the infernal dam breaks, and I’m wide awake, waking to be woken. Deep noise and strange melodies submit as an angled plane dissects our memories, allowing suspended motion to dominate a single frame of cosmic wonder. Soon to evolve and flow, cresting upon an astral ocean as words drift silently without gravity to slowly transform their unwilling presence. Still asking immortal questions of our temporal darkness, it’s colorless tendrils complicit, remain our only light. Or was there once a golden principle hidden between worlds, yet forever guiding those willing towards balance within, where … Continue reading Waking to be Woken

The Final Flame

The Final Flame by Martin Hanley Copyright © Martin Hanley 1/29/2014 There is meaningless in knowing where the red thorn has wounded you, As idle performers cast echoes of what once you only knew. And the silver keeps on turning, reflected moon she answers too, While cold morning now is breaking, hollow explanations begin ringing true. Yet the sea still washes over, past your key a hidden clue. Your term is a short one coming, still you wait for something new, The keening wind performs its duty, stripping the worn providing the new. And in time this light will soften … Continue reading The Final Flame