The Cloths of Heaven

The Cloths of Heaven Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.    –  William Butler Yeats Continue reading The Cloths of Heaven

The End of Time

The End of Time by Maria Fokas  In the midst of night she sleeps. Her wings fly her over the end of time, a glimpse of light and below, she sees the color white. Slowly, don’t rush it, savor that memory of your first sip. The individual slices of time we are bound to miss. I will remember all of this: Freshly squeezed orange scent, I crossed off our precious list. Simple chunks of speech, wasted on an empty kiss. Someone take that first step; someone, but  me, I see those words appear, and a tear rolls down my cheek. How strange the … Continue reading The End of Time

“How much does a man live, after all?

  HOW MUCH DOES A MAN LIVE by Pablo Neruda   “How much does a man live, after all? Does he live a thousand days, or one only? For a week, or for several centuries? How long does a man spend dying? What does it mean to say ‘for ever’? ” Lost in these preoccupations, I set myself to clear things up. I sought out knowledgeable priests, I waited for them after their rituals, I watched them went they went their ways to visit God and the Devil. They wearied of my questions. They on their part knew very little; … Continue reading “How much does a man live, after all?

The Shadow of the Former Self

The Shadow of the Former Self By Martin Hanley The shadow of the former self is out there now forever seeking. The sitter seated accused amused is forever longing for pastures fleeting. Through pain and torment to save your soul, a spoken law is a hidden roll. The blood that speaks, two hearts that whisper; a golden crown for night’s own sister. All masks removed, all races run for now is the echo of a passing sun. It was never who we truly were but, who could listen and break the mold. And although that orb still shines all day, … Continue reading The Shadow of the Former Self

Murphy’s Law

Murphy’s Law by Maria Fokas / Photograph by Martin Hanley And though it seemed that anything could go wrong, That everything would go wrong He looked into my eyes, and claimed he saw lines of red in the brown He said hazel, I said brown . . . He counted my smiles, and spoke of inspiration He asked me; where inspiration comes from  – No, not from the Gods, I said, But from a painful longing that cannot be marked Where touch is absent, and words feel mercy, And comfort never comes too soon © Maria Fokas 2014   Continue reading Murphy’s Law

The art of losing

POEM OF THE WEEK – The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. … Continue reading The art of losing

The Mórrígan

The Mórrígan by Martin Hanley Old friend, Great Queen forever hovering near. Heart of a Raven, your drum beats loud and clear. Sister’s three who soar on high; watchful eyes nervously scan the sky. Your moonlit magic and prophetic signs; the bellowing war hoard threads woven; number nine. Badb and Macha and Morigu three, dark feathers shape shift in your netherworld unseen. The evil eye drew your lover down; on Moytura field not another sound. Revenge draped sweetly on smiling lips as the river runs deep beneath my dreams. In our veins together you forever sleep. Copyright © Martin Hanley June 13 … Continue reading The Mórrígan