Years, like decades, may end up dishonest.

This year has been the most dishonest of years;

A year of old men who wallow in hate.

They get their stupid kicks from war and death,

And wield their pudgy pens like howitzers.

Not much to recommend it, you might think,

 

Yet, somewhere, a woman helps her neighbour,

A girl gives succour to a wounded boy,

And suddenly, we see can...

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NONET DON CHRANN NOLLAG

Christmas Tree Nonet

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

SEE!

I

*A STAR*,

I

*ONE OF A*

I

*CONSTELLATION*,

I

*THERE, HIGH ON THE TIP*.

I

*DOWN HERE, FOR YOU TO READ*,

I

*THIS POET’S MESSAGE, JUST FOR YOU*,

I

*WISHES OF HOPE AND OF GREAT JOY*,

I

*EVERGREEN, BELOW THIS CHRISTMAS TREE*.

II

III

...

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"Cling on, be strong" they said as the wind swirled them away

Now everyone's gone and left me, there's no defense my way

 

The wind hisses at me, "let go, be free"

There's not many of us left now clinging to this tree

 

The summer was bright, inviting and calm

Warm breezes filled with harmless hope

But now, I'm not sure if I can cope

 

These days are as dark as night

...

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Double Haiku [National Emergency Edition]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUPPORT GENOCIDE!

OPPOSE PALESTINE ACTION!

BURN OLIVE BRANCHES!

 

JUSTICE IN BRITAIN

FOR SALE TO GENOCIDERS

KILLS GREEN SHOOTS OF HOPE

 

Le Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh

 

Déardaoin, an seachtú lá is fiche de mhí na Samhna,

 

dhá mhíle agus cúig is fiche.

 

(Thursday 27th ...

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We’re nighthawks in some moody painting
Haunting stools at a midnight bar
The headlight beams of passing cars
Scan us both as they squeal out of town
You’re telling me of a coming wedding
And asking me to stand beside you both
Well, that deserves another round
To swallow my flattered feelings down
I’ve been chasing love like some wild dog
You’ve been cautious, careful and selective
Look ...

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At the songs of the birds,

My heart erupts with joy

And streams of colour fill my world.

 

At the songs of the trees,

I catch the rusty leaves

Which crumble, softly, in my hand.

 

At the songs of the clouds,

I imagine myself

Floating, at untold altitudes.

 

At the songs of the grass,

I listen, intently,

For unlikely scraps of news.

 

At the songs of ...

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Everyone wants to grow old, but no one wants to be old.

 

All long to see the years in gentle rise,
Yet none would dwell where age has made its home;
The mirror bends the truth of weary eyes,
And hearts protest a fate they call their own.

The body, once a vessel tuned to speed,
Now trembles under weight of time’s command;
Each step recalls a fire that once would lead,
Now falters li...

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North Korea remains one of the world’s most isolated and repressive states. For nearly eight decades, its people have lived under extreme surveillance, forced conformity, and brutal punishment, with little access to information, freedom of movement, or independent thought. The Inminban system monitors neighborhoods and even families, ensuring that fear and control permeate every aspect...

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Know thoughts and feelings come in waves,

Though this may depend upon how one behaves.

So if we feel bad know this shall change,

Though at this time it may seem strange.

 

So if you live in a pit of misery,

Know you shall find a way out and be free.

And you shall once again breath the air

Of a world that we should love and share. 

 

So break out from your troubled min...

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This poem tells the haunting story of how silence and fear empower despots and tyrants to build fragile thrones, sacrificing freedom for control. Through the mysterious figure of a quiet piper, it envisions the subtle yet unstoppable dismantling of tyranny—without violence or fanfare—and the hope for a world where new maps guide future generations beyond borders and oppression.

They laughed w...

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I first had the idea for this song / poem on hearing the news about the good ship Madleen, setting out for Gaza.

 

Thunberg and her crewmates were not “deported” from Israel. The Madleen was illegally detained, her crew illegally abducted / kidnapped to Israel, and then released, after the Madleen’s cargo of aid had been stolen.

 

The so-called “personalities” - several failed “comedia...

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I believe all my poems to be refined,
And to have an impact upon our mind.
And although they're deep and thoroughly planned,
Each one is quite easy to understand.

They may be about people or about things,
And aimed towards beggars right up to kings.
And they show us how to appreciate life,
And hold happiness whilst dealing with strife.

They may be about thoughts or our emotions.
And t...

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Her sky was burning crashing down around her 

there  was fire in the sky  it burned so brightly she could 

not see that her whole entire world was gone she lost her

breath laying on the ground tears began to fall down her face 

washing some of the darkness away those tears fell and fell

until the fire was out  and she found her breath with her last bit of strength 

she stood up l...

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A figure slumped beside the road, a heap of ash and thread. No face, no shape, just heavy cloth, and eyes that looked half-dead. “Who are you?” asked the wrinkled one, with voice both calm and kind. “I’m Sadness,” said the shape, half-formed, “the one all try to bind.” “They turn from me,” the figure said, “as if I bring disease. They smile too wide, deny the weight, pretending th...

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You've gotten by without it.
Tucked away.
But now,
It's a rainy day.

 

 

 

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Bonnie Madleen

I first had the idea for this song / poem on hearing the news about the good ship Madleen, setting out for Gaza.

Thunberg and her crewmates were not “deported” from Israel, as reported in the biased media, they were released after the Madleen and her crew were illegally abducted to Israel, and her cargo stolen.

The so-called “personalities” - several failed “comedians” amon...

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I feel distant from hope

like a soul that is separated

like an empty space

there is only me and uncertain thoughts

 

waiting for the end of the day

but wishing that there was no tomorrow

as if all my dreams are hard to achieve

and slowly my ambition fades

 

I feel like I see someone else inside me

I don't recognize her

little things feel new to me

and death b...

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I'm walking alone
Through this chaotic road
Through this desolated land
That my senses corrode

The environment is hostile
Full of greed and jealousy
People want everything
While forgetting our legacy

The values from the past
Now seems to have a cost
Honesty lost its meaning
While respect was lost

So I'm searching the darkness
For a sparkle of light
For the motivation I need
To...

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All I can do is follow my heart
The one that you fill.
You made me unique.
So I can follow no one else.
I wait for your still small voice.
But I don't hear anything.

I am blind, but I know it,
So there is hope.
I follow my heart
Where it leads, I go.
Yes, I am blind...
But I can feel the light.

 

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The dreams we cherish, will they come to be? In perfect worlds, all wishes would align. Yet still I wonder, as I search to see, What life will bring, and how it will define. The storms may rage, yet in their swirling mist, I catch a glimpse of light that leads the way. Each answer seems elusive, hard to grasp, But still I hope, and keep my fears at bay. Though answers fade, my hope w...

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“The Bitter Cup” reflects the themes of enduring hardship and finding strength in the face of suffering, inspired by Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Surrounded by Good Powers...” The sonnet explores the idea of accepting life’s trials with quiet courage, symbolised by the "bitter cup," and trusting that even through pain, we move towards light and renewal. It echoes Bonhoeffer’s own spirit of res...

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It made me sad when I saw him there.

 

Beaten and bruised as he carried it. 

 

No one helped him.

 

No one cared. 

 

He hadn’t hurt anyone, yet they hated him.

 

He hadn’t stolen anything, yet they despised him.

 

All of this made no sense to me.

 

Why was a man who was faultless being punished?

 

Why was a man who healed and renewed life to people g...

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If Hope were a song

I'd sing it all day long

I'd sing it through the night

I'd sing it from great heights!

I'd sing it ‘til my skin

Turned old & pale & thin

I'd sing it ‘til the Earth

Rejoiced in its re-birth!

If Hope were a song

I'd sing it all day long

I'd sing ‘til only love

Rained down from up above

 

 

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Sometimes I feel like a soul that's forever searching.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find the light.

I get weary.  I grasp for hope.

Sometimes I wonder, am I getting accustomed

To stumbling around in the dark of night?

I know I'll never stop my searching.

Even if it cost me everything that I hold dear.

Just to find out that You are

And have always been... right here.

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I walk this walk in winter’s fog

along the path to fill each day.

Each stranger I see barely nods,

they pass by without aught to say. 

 

Against the cold I wrap my coat

while trying to ignore the sting

and thoughts of all the miles ahead

that passing through this season brings. 

 

I still recall the trees in color.

It seems like just a day ago.

I dream of time i...

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If I were God, no tyrant’s fist Would strike the world and call it law. No throne would stand on broken backs, No crown be forged from cries of pain. The fattened few who drink from veins Of those who toil, who starve, who break, Would wake to find their golden feasts Had turned to dust upon their tongues. No child would fade to hollow bone, No mother beg for crusts of bread, No fa...

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Today, three years ago, Russia launched its brutal invasion of Ukraine, shattering peace and unleashing a wave of destruction. Towns were levelled, lives torn apart, and a nation thrust into an endless struggle for survival. Despite the relentless violence, Ukraine remains unyielding, its people refusing to surrender. The world has watched as the cost in blood and suffering continues to rise, and ...

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The snow is not to blame

In fact, it covers it up

All that I see is kindness

On the white covered ground

 

The snow is not to blame

 

It offers a rest bite

from worry,

as the crystals float past

my window  

 

an endless letting

       go

an endless letting

             go

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The Berlin Holocaust Memorial is stark.

For the Tool though, those Stelae made a brilliant backdrop

to his ‘Twenty-Two election publicity lark;

The Shoa, he reduced to a pantomime prop,

Behind you, behind you! Look, Sir, it’s the …!

 

At Auschwitz yer man is on ‘Twenty-Five’s photo-shoot,

The strain in his face, act studiously honed

to show that he cares, oh, look at him, ...

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This poem is about a society increasingly divided, where accusations fly and truth seems lost. It speaks to the urgency of listening instead of blaming, understanding instead of judging, and choosing hope over fear. In a world where opinions are quickly voiced and emotions run high, the poem urges a shift in perspective—one that values connection, love, and the strength to find hope, even in diffi...

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