Poetry Blogs (Tale)
Rose Casserley on Is it me, or am I now living in a Rumplestiltskin world? (6 hours ago)
I was one of your cold nights earlier. But today I am full eclipse.
I am raw sand for you. But if you come to me, you will slip into it like I am your worst mire.
But I am very calm like the sea.
And I can also drown you in my dark depths or I can give you an edge.
Even I am not a burnt skin for you, I am a fire.
And if you near to my body, you will become one of my ashes.
Today I'm not th...
Wednesday 20th January 2021 3:18 pm
The tale of the bucket with the easy swing handle
If I should have a field
then I would build a shed
when in it I could yield
ideals within my head
I would have a window
I’d point it at the ground
the shed itself erected
from the things that I have found,
like a door
and the galvanized sheets from another shed
that’s not a shed no more
and a roof that ...
Friday 31st January 2014 3:23 pm
Saint Stephen's tale
It's Friday, sweets from Mrs Smith
Degeneration X and anarchy
Frankie's words: two tables, four chairs, suspension.
Discovered passing the buck, and thus passed it.
Stole the show with Twenty-one Questions, four dancers, and a singer.
First girlfriend changed everything, "You're young, she has baggage - get rid..." … did...
Sunday 7th April 2013 3:01 pm
Once there was a Dublin hospital,
A sullen, Nightingale institute,
Whose 1980s walls would house a miracle,
And sprout embryos who would come to repute.
Two princes born to mother, Louis Walsh
Lay vulnerable and crying for their fame,
But before they could suckle, the angels
Were baptised with their Siamese stage name:
John + Edward = Jedward.
Sunday 19th June 2011 8:07 am