The Geometry of Love Between the Elements by Fióna Bolger

Caught in the Cross Hairs

 
I bury my face in the thickness of your hair
the darkness, the softness, the smell
raw brain sweat, your innermost thoughts
desire become scent
 
beneath the softness
the hard skull skin
a barrier you need
and I want to penetrate
 
to enter see the wiring
observe my image
upside down in the back of your head
then turn and peer through your eyes
 
I’d see the world as you
 

You’ve stolen my tongue

 
I thought I had the power
in dreams I knelt at the chopping board
an awkward sacrificial lamb
I brought the cleaver down
silencing my babble
 
but you held the knife
and while I slept you forced
my lips apart and cut
at the roots
ever the skilled operator
you stitched me up
needling the thread
to connect the severed ends
 
I can still make sounds
some almost words
they think they understand
but my tongue is in your hands
 

'Blue' by Vani Vemparala

‘Blue’ by Vani Vemparala

From The Geometry of Love Between the Elements by Fióna Bolger. A Grimoire published by Poetry Bus Magazine.

cure for a sharp shock

 
it’s that moment
when you trust
let go the balloon
your hope floats
up into the air
it’s beautiful and red
 
it bursts
empty rubber pieces
a shade darker
float to earth
 
I read somewhere
if you take these shreds
put them between broken
pieces of pottery
and blow
they’ll sound beautiful
 
I’m not sure
I read it
somewhere
 

cure poem for the lovelorn

 
a woman sits alone
her eyes are on the swan feathers
dropped by the moon upon the sea
 
she sees no-one on the horizon
but who can walk on water
dance on down
 
by day she weaves her stinging sadness
into nettle shirts, by night she waits
for her lover – the one who needs
 
to wear those painful clothes
to be fully human again
no longer trapped
 
on a cold moon
dropping feathers
on the sea
 
Cure Poems are © Fióna Bolger

bolger

Fiona Bolger’s work has appeared in Headspace, Southword, The Brown Critique, Can Can, Boyne Berries, Poetry Bus, The Chattahoochee Review, Bare Hands Poetry Anthology and others. Her poems first appeared in print on placards tied to lamp posts (UpStart 2011 General Election Campaign). They’ve also been on coffee cups (The Ash Sessions). Her grimoire, The Geometry of Love between the Elements, was published by Poetry Bus Press. She is of Dublin and Chennai and is a member of Dublin Writers’ Forum and Airfield Writers.

 

From Poetry Bus  A Grimoire is a book of magic and what is more magical than poetry? So instead of producing a series of chapbooks we’ve opted to create something a bit more special. Our first poet is Fíona Bolger and her Grimoire is called ‘The Geometry of Love between the Elements’
 
A beautiful book of poems illustrated by Vani Vemparala and featuring translations into Irish, Polish and Tamil by Antain Mac Lochlainn, Aleksandra Kubiak and R.Vatsala respectively.

Signature

Poems from ‘Signature’

 

thistle roll
 
thistle roll
twig sphere
scatters a
 
thicket clump
looks alive, its
red-tipped a
 
blown-feather
bag blown to
 
a bird-corpse let lie
its throat opened out
 
purple the thistle-roll
and hue,
purple the cry
 


tear
 
a field of ewes, their winter wool loose
blown down to the rusted gate.
 
a flower clock banks each moment to the birthing,
their mothering.
 
their rich milk a wellspring. spring now and
a breeze tickles the white cloud
 
their winter coat shed, wind still barbs her cries
they ignore her labouring
 

Thistle Roll and Tear are © C. Murray

Signature is published by Bone Orchard Press, and edited by Michael McAloran. It is my second chapbook, and it can be bought via LULU. If you are into freebies, and not supportive paying for your arts, a sample of my writing, a chapbook called Three Red Things is available here.

ssignatureignature is a beautifully wrought collection of short/ imagistic/ surrealistic-impressionistic poems…ISBN 9781291797046

Copyright Christine Murray

Edition First

Publisher Bone Orchard Press

Published 23 March 2014
Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

A Preview of My New Book ‘She’.

she-painting 
The first edition of SHE will be published by Oneiros Books in 2014.

82 Pages

Perfect-bound Paperback.

The cover painting image is © Anastasia Kashian, with great thanks to David Mitchell for design, and to Michael McAloran for accepting the book on behalf of Oneiros Books.

Two poems from The Island Sequence of ‘She’

sea is a womb

sea is a womb
dip and flow the small boat

rock and rock,
rock the black black

gold lace a-glitter
and rocks – the
rocks scrape her timbers

beneath the carved wave
lie monsters clawing at her base


black the inky waves lap to

black the inky waves lap to
and black they suck the shale

and if birds swoop
they are the mere shadows of birds

there are hands there to disembark you
to hold you over the rocky black

those hands that will arc you onto the comfort of stone

this is the sea/
      this inky black

it does not smell of sea

the gap between the boat and the shore is awesome
the wood laps the water dragging it out /
and

bobbing it back again
the chasm at the heel
and one step forward
to land to stone comfort.

Poems from The Island Sequence of ‘She‘ are © C. Murray

black the inky waves lap to was published in The Burning Bush VI

Contents Page

(i) A letter found in the box that contained this narrative, being addressed to the cousin of former patient, Miss Constance Byrne.

(ii) A note attached to the file of Miss Constance Byrne (now deceased).

Part I

Standing Stones
Grove
Lake
Serpentine The Alleyway
A Ruined Church at the Precipice
Burnt Hill
Descent

Part II

The Island
She


Cousin – ,

The narrative that follows here is a faithful rendering of my wanderings from the time of my retirement to the dawn. It is always the same. I do not expect anyone will believe me, but I know that my dreaming life is as real as my waking life.

Indeed, I have learnt not to call these sleeping narratives anything other than a different part of my reality.When I first encountered the entity that appears on the towpath I was afraid for She seemed hardly human to me. I had gone little by little into this dreaming place over the course of twenty years, and I had explored it wholly in her company. I do not know what my encounter with this lady means, I intend to find out. In my exploratory times there I have never yet met another person. Although there were signs of life (or of creaturely habitation).This landscape seemed to me to be ruined by war and by heat. What else could make marble of glass shards?

It is bleak there. At every dawn there occurs a throb of colour and I know that somehow I am back here in this world. I do not believe that my nightly explorations are a dream, for I have found tears upon my slippers, and a rend in the lace of my dress.She wants to show me something. She has indicated for me a bridge. I intend to cross over it, and thereby to continue to explore the geography of its unknown terrain.

I travel now alone. I am unencumbered by family, nor by tradition. I leave to you this letter and some small tokens of my esteem. Know that I am safe, and although I undertake this journey with trepidation, I remain always your,

Constance.

Cover image by Anastasia Kashian

Cover image by Anastasia Kashian. Cover design by David Mitchell at Oneiros Books.

Cup by C. Murray

Cup


nest rests
her cup

(heart, feather)

into wood
winds
capillary

In air (above)
sky is a heart caught
red, its amber spilling

nest stills
her dust
and moss

breathe out 

underground, wet roots stir
the sleeping house up

soften
     the softening rain

my veins answer tree

.

Cup is © C. Murray

.

New Trees,


there are three -
two crows dance 
steel-beaking the mounds round

New Trees is © C. Murray


Image is © Mick McAloran

Image is © Mick McAloran

Poems by Christine Broe

Breakfasting with Dreams

Birdsong.
Scraps of dreams remembered.
I place one foot, then the other, on the floor.

Outside in the first light of breaking day
dew lies on the discarded squashed remains
of suppers bought from greasy chipper vans,
and mist will blend with fumes of car exhausts
as workers crawl from sleepy dormer towns.

But dew and mist are genes of water words
like drip and drop and rain and flood and sea
so comforted I make some toast and tea
humming words like seed and sow and yellow wheat
and grind and flour and bake and break and eat.

I slipper round the kitchen with these words
and on the window sill leave crumbs for birds,
carbohydrates to augment the early worms.

Then as the sun shines through the marmalade
I butter toast with golden spreads of dreams,
image fragments I have salvaged from the night

so I can go and face the world once more,
put one foot, then the other, out the door.

Breakfasting with Dreams is © Christine Broe

A Decent Full Stop

There are enough words in the world,
more than enough,
when all that is necessary
communicates itself in silence.

Should the sparkle of a sapphire speak
Or be some window in your eye
that tells of love?

The script is done.
You have said all you will say.
I listen to the pregnant silence
for sudden intakes of breath.
Sighs.

Silent mother
I am learning
to live with the absence

with a language beyond
even that between the lines.

We walk together,
I synchronise my steps to yours,
From garden gate to garden gate
Sealed with cobwebs.

You touch the locks.

Scents of flowers caress us,
sitting in the sun
when your hand unbidden reaches out,
catches mine
and we are joined to everything.

A Decent Full Stop is © Christine Broe

 
Christine Broe 001 (2)Christine Broe, born and still lives in Dublin. She has worked as an art teacher, arts facilitator, and art therapist while looking after family of seven. She has been writing poetry since the 1990’s winning the inaugural Brendan Kennelly Award in 2001 and gained international recognition when awarded the Premio Cittá di Olbia prize in 2002. Swan Press published her debut collection Solas Sólás in 2003. She is a long time member of Rathmines Writer’s Workshop and has facilitated creative writing workshops using art media as inspiration for generating work.