Their Tale a Tale of Loss & Tangled Threads

Ah! Such passion!

The lover's tryst.
The lover's kiss.

...under a silver moon.

Was there ever such a night as this
fireflies twinkle through a hazy June mist.

The clocks tick on and on
the lover's tale unforld under a June moon.

Human hearts ache...a tear breaks
form an eye not willing to cry
but unable...to stop itself.

Your tear rolls down my cheek
as I kiss your crying face.

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Where God Paints The Scenery

I return
from fishing
feeling guilty
of the fish in the pail

still alive and kicking
not realising it's his prison
& he is to be turned
into dinner

(the freshest fish of all)
to find you've fallen
asleep by a dying fire

I gather its embers together
& with my breath
breathe life back into it

until it cackles & flares
its flickering dancing

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Low Finisterre 1007 Losing Its Identity By The Same Time

It’s BBC Radio 4
but the familiar

litany of
THE SHIPPING FORECAST

is alas...maimed
not the same.

They changed
a national institution

of the mind
redeveloped the mental landscape.

They have even dare to have it
moved

by 15 minutes
and renamed

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Entangled in Her Hair

Her hair
covers my face

she

kisses my mouth
kisses my kisses.

She chuckles.

I stroke her hair.

She sways &
...moves.

Her hair
covers my chest.

She
titillates a nipple

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Losing My Mind

“I think...”
I thought

but I had no sooner
thought the thought

than it claimed
independence from me.

“Thought is free! ”
it shouted in ringing Shakespearean tones.

I acted
at once

imprisoned it
in some deep dank dark dungeon

at the back of my mind

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Blood Brothers

The tiger
(it was my tiger)

sat beside me
on the bus

& despite the quque
we had got on first.

We had gone
ice skating

& the tiger proved to be
quite adept.

I...I...fell on my bum

to be laughed at by some

he growled and they

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Footsteps & Heartbeats

Here, in a cuddle.

Here, in the making
of a meal...or...love.

Here, in countless conversations
idle chit-chats

sprinkled throughout our day
to day

here,
in the bric-a brac of us

we exchange our pasts
memories that made us

the secret facts of us
that make us...us.

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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PEOPLES(For Lyn)

She gathers
the world

into her
consciousness

holds its facts
like a beautiful blue

bunch
of wild flowers

clutched
tightly in her tiny fist.

All is alive
to her

whether it be sky
cloud or river...whatever.

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Feeling Like A Salvador Dali Watch

Feeling Like A Salvador Dali Watch

I lie
in this park

scattered with daises
& cigarette butts.

The sun orders us
to take off all our clothes

and we
mere humans

obey it.

The sun
pins us to the ground

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Going Tasaday

The Tasadays
(remants of a Stone Age culture)

recently discovered in the Philippines

have no words
for war, hate or weapons

but favour
the communicative power

of skin

indulging in constant
warm enfolding embraces

loving touches.

So, this Tuesday
let's be Tasadays

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poem by Dónall Dempsey
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