And when the black light falls around you The glimmer fades away When the life which once you called your own Is taken willingly Life’s glowing immateriality Departs the mortal body For cold steel usurper’s flesh Awakens what is real Normal not corporeal And twisted out of shape What is real and what is
I will hear the Swan’s song soon. Pale, as the moon shines. A fading shade and then gone. My feathers will become fossils. My bones will become relics. My memory will become heirlooms to be passed down. What more could I desire to leave behind? When this fire goes out, do not
The direct sequel to “On a Typical Saturday Night”, “The Sunday After the Saturday Before” delves into many of the scenarios mentioned in the first instalment, and developing on them to give a sense of closure. The title is a play on the phrase “The morning after the night before”. A new day dawns
The first of a two-part narrative into the Irish drink culture, “On a Typical Saturday Night” describes the many scenarios encountered by people on a Saturday night out. This and its sequel, “The Sunday After the Saturday Before”, are written to be read as one cohesive piece. All the pubs and clubs, Are busy
“As Day Turns Into Night” started out as a pigment of my imagination, wondering what it’d be like to share an intimate moment with someone you love. Using an inverted form based off of terza rima poetry, it was written to display vivid romantic affection, but placed certain restrictions as to how I achieved it.
