Poetry Blog by Alex O Dubhghaill

It's the final day of the routine seven,
The jig is nearly up,
Its back to work come morning time,
Till then we'll take a sup,

Sure Nealon's is the place to go,
Its usually quiet at this time,
Leave your gaf and start to walk,
And then call in to mine

The laughing and the chatting,
As the stout begins to flow,
Suddenly its last orders,
And then we'll have to go

I can't help but feel so...

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I think I need a jacket
It's getting very cold
I'll have a look online
It's very easy, so I'm told

I'm not sure that I like it
It feels like it's quite forced
As I swipe through all the options
But there's some I like of course

The first one was suitable
The pockets just too shallow
Number three felt like a winner
But looked better on another fellow

I sometimes sit and wonder
Is the...

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A question is asked,

"What is the meaning of life?",

Deep discussion occurs,

Tales of struggle and strife,

For me, however, it is much simpler:

To love; that is the meaning of life

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While he simply adored her,

And, come their exertions together,

The world became irrelevant,

Never could he altogether dismiss their loves temporary element,

Conjured from the role played by Distance,

The hated protagonist

In a novella which tells the tale,

Of a romance not fully realised,

Of loving and losing,

Of missing her

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Often, during rare nights of tumultuous sleep,

I imagine happenings not yet bestowed upon me,

With which such feelings of elation accompany,

Because, at long last,

I have found her,

And she has found me

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It is the case, it seems,

That all through life,

We have our dreams, our jobs, our strife,

Yet at the ever approaching moment,

What's on our mind?

A trivial component?

No, I have more faith than this,

We surely must think of all we have loved,

That first glance, that last kiss,

The family where we felt beloved,

So at the ever approaching moment,

I hope to feel love...

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