Mary,
a name that still lingers on the breeze,
like the soft rustle of autumn leaves
falling where the birds fly free.
I didn’t know you long,
but in that time,
you became more than a friend—
more than a passing figure
in a fleeting chapter of my life.
You became a grandmother,
and I loved you as such.
Under God's eyes they were bound as one,
Bell and Beaupré,
his beloved Dorothie,
a shining light in his heart.
So inspired by love was he
that he made her a window,
sunlight illuminating the stained glass,
colours dancing across stone halls.
The window, a display of their love,
their names joined in eternal embrace,
a love as fierce
as the fever that took him.
Upon the bridge where swords met steel and fate,
In Finea’s mist, where river waters weep,
There stood a man, a prince in name and soul,
Myles O’Reilly, Slasher of the foe.
Descended from the kings of old Breifne,
A chieftain’s blood ran strong within his veins,
With Ireland’s pride aflame within his heart,
He dared to stand, though England pressed him low.
They called him but a man, yet giants fell,
The Scottish beast cut down with but one stroke.
His blade, a flash of vengeance in the dusk,
An iron whisper sung in rebel hands.
In the mirror, I am a ghost,
a puppet of the world's illusions,
its expectations heavy as chains,
strings long since frayed by the violence of my mind.
Inside, I am a graveyard,
the dead whispering the things I cannot say.
Tears hidden behind smiles that crack like old paint.
The court of fools calls to me,
eyes blind to the burden I carry.
I play the jester for them,
but if death came tonight,
I would take his hand,
and breathe a sigh of relief.
Such a short time we had together,
Before death took you in his warm embrace.
Now I am here without you,
Beside me, an empty space.
I hope what they say is true,
That you are in a better place.
Death kissed my lips and took my hand,
Guiding me through a world so strange,
Where we never parted, never knew the pain,
Where love was never lost, never estranged.
What joy we’d have known, what life we’d have lived,
If only you had not gone away.
I would have held you close, forever near,
In a world untouched by cold decay.
But death’s embrace is all I was granted,
A walk with him, through memories undaunted,
Where you and I remain unbroken,
In the shadows of what might have been.
I dreamt of him beneath the silver moon,
his porcelain face cracked deep with golden light.
He looked at me with sorrow-laden eyes,
and I, entranced, returned his mournful gaze.
Between us stretched a silence, vast and cold,
yet in the hush, I knew he called to me.
He raised a fragile hand, so pale, so still.
I reached to meet him, fingertips outstretched.
O Little Robin, who follows me close,
I know your soul, it warms my heart.
You are here with me once again,
It was never goodbye, only see you soon.
And here you are with your new-found wings.
Hello, my cheeky monkey.
In dreams, I see your little face once more,
Bright brown eyes alive with trusting light.
Your soft mews echo, a tender, fleeting balm,
And your purr lulls my heart into warmth again.
But dreams fracture; shadows flood the peace,
A cold December night claws at my mind.
A cry for help, your frail frame in my arms,
Breath hitching, blood stealing what should be yours.
One final gasp, and your body stills,
A patchwork coat soaked in my falling tears.
Believe it or not
The Parson is right
We shall return with zeroes
Many zeroes. Let’s be Heroes
For and to the world. Let’s not be selfish
Because we shall return with zilch
With nada, mit nichts, perhaps with empty zeroes
Which mean nothing. Let’s pause
To think. Let’s be wise and humble
Love is essential. When the trees tremble
And fall; when the ground shakes and burns
