All posts tagged: New Poetry

“Eat Up” and other poems by Fiadha McLysaght

Eat Up   At home I bury my face in the crease of your elbow You cover my mouth as though quenching a flame In return, my fingernails incise the back of your hand as a gift to you coupled with a promise: I would never do that on purpose I cannot understand why you are not thankful I would be so grateful for that promise, so grateful someone had etched themselves into me   In the morning we sever ourselves on the rim of the tin can that encloses our breakfast haphazardly pried open to devour its kernel I blot my bleeding lip against my shoulder and leave a trail of watercolor stains moving down to the crease of my elbow I reach the back of my hand and realise that should you walk in it might appear as though I am purposefully applying hickeys to my body like a curious teenager   You beckon me into the kitchen once more Having forced open the can and fished out the discernible scraps of tin …

“Night Music” and other poems by Mary Shine

Lines Walk a side line, stepping at a right pace, resisting the intoxication of distasteful rhetoric. Steady the mind for the unprecedented reversal— tomorrow, a deepening unknown; a line I never thought could be, has been crossed. Illiberal States clutter of voices volume of noise a myriad of words exposed — an ugly new world If only it could be the week before all this uproar snapped at my heels like a snarling dog that wants to take me down. I might have had time to rearrange the furniture in my house. I might have set up a barrier or two at back and front doors. I might have put locks on my windows, chains on the gate – keeping the barking brute outside. I might still feel uncrushed– safe within walls of a liberal sanity. Colouring Our Way Forward Plum comes to mind, a deep down bruise. It’s taking over my walls. It’s blocking ease, bringing a swirl of losses. I sense it — out on the streets. I hear it echoed across too …

“affairs of the unsettled” and other poems by Olly Lenihan

The Robin   You show me your robin bright little bird you are gentle with him   He trusts you, dear, eats from your hand not scared in the slightest   Not as he should be not as I was you were not gentle with me   G.R.C.C. (Galway Rape Crisis Centre)   Through winding streets, I’d never seen before it didn’t feel like Galway at all more like a cardboard cut-out town   When I arrived it was silent, empty a maze of corridors identical flowery waiting rooms   A calm space, dangerous nonetheless I felt like if I fell asleep in one of those rooms they’d never find me again   I believe now that ghosts roamed those halls shells of those they’ve hurt white with nausea, I was one of them   Coming home, I caught snowflakes on my tongue pulled my stolen coat tight against the wind I felt so far from home. Still do–   I can’t tell what I am today whether I’m closer to me than I’ve ever …

“Since She Did That” and other poems by E.D. Hickey

Home I rub, and RUB my eyes; Ferocious; Don’t, Don’t, sweetheart. Then the plane tips toward the cool thick Irish sea So that I can face it Gaze into it From my seat. Home! Clouds bubble over the razor wings The light jumps into my tired gaze. Home!   Steel There must be steel in women Who say no. I am made of utter fudge Compelled, somehow, to reply and smile And be grateful for the fleeting interest. This is exactly the kind of thing A better me Would never do.   August I have never been so hollow I will never be so hollow I just felt so hollow When I refused to fix it When you left that city a day too early When you cried to your mother on the phone She doesn’t even know me I wish I could tell her I was sorry.   Stucco I want to build I want to – I need to restructure Gut my foundations Cut into the old black brick below me Throw it …

“A Guide to Feel-Good Doom” and other poems by Lisa Ardill

Dimples I am the wind that sighs at night through your bedroom window making your lovely hairs take flight. They rest against your cheek like affectionate little arms, and cling to your freckled flesh, its rosy flush their one dimpled source of life. Those could be my arms, holding fast to that imperfect reservoir into which I slip further each moment, sliding towards that gentle dip at the centre of your smooth skin. there is one on each side, To kidnap both mind and matter. The day I tumble into that tiny pool of love I will drown. and then I will float in your falling tears that follow me down whether those of sadness or joy, I will never know but either will hold me captive. Colourful Language your words are like flowers that come alive in a cold spring shooting from the ground with a gentleness that encumbers a hidden force they unearth their surroundings and mask others with their wondrous scent but sometimes their beauty is only soil deep the meaning tucked …