Category: Poetry

Carpathian Rhapsody: (chapter one)

My name is Michael Joseph Donnelly, An Irishman who loves good mystery, I have an odd penchant, I have this need; To explore the ‘unknown,’ I hope you’ll read. It was start of fall, eighteen hundred ten, In Europe’s eastern mountains this took place And true is the story that I do pen, Upon my honor and gentleman’s grace. Wanderlust swayed my inquisitive mind, … Read More Carpathian Rhapsody: (chapter one)

Rusted Ruminations

They light softly, mango red, papaya yellow, russet remnants, saddle-bowed leaves caressed by indolent ghosts with boney fingers, tracing withered veins swirling about in musky vortices musing, cold as spring’s skipped stones settled on lake bottoms. Pumpkin orange sunsets, wind whistling in the trees, Autumn sings a lullaby. Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016


In The Nightmarish Dark Realm Known as Id

I awoke face down on a dusty stone floor, The air was foul with the smell of old death, In a windowless room with just one door, It was so cold; I could see my own breath. From across the room I could clearly see, A table, with candle flickering bright, Atop that table was a note for me, I wondered from whom, and … Read More In The Nightmarish Dark Realm Known as Id

My Heart’s Decree

Tempered with many steel fiber throughout, As chain mail on knights in the days of yore, My love is stalwart, to survive no doubt Like, a fine classical musical score. My heart does herald with fervor so grand! Till joy flows like a river over banks, And ever I’ll crave the touch of her hand, That soothes my soul and for this I give … Read More My Heart’s Decree


Jehovah-Jireh My Great Provider

“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.” (John 15 v.7) In your powerful words I shall abide, Through heartfelt prayer, I beseech and you hear. Whatever I need you gladly provide. But faulted am I, at times I backslide, Like a perfect father you lend an ear. … Read More Jehovah-Jireh My Great Provider

The Autumn Night, She Sings a Dirge

The autumn night, she sings a dirge I feel my spirit on the verge, Before a ghostly sung reprise, It is indeed summer’s demise. I stroll along a moonlit trail, Amongst birch trees now aptly pale, Nowise a puzzle to surmise, It is indeed summer’s demise. Spectral shadows slowly slipping, Thinner branches in wind whipping, My senses drink in and apprise, It is indeed … Read More The Autumn Night, She Sings a Dirge


As Autumn of My Life Draws Near

Some progressions are meant to be, This wisdom was revealed to me, And I take comfort every year, As autumn of my life draws near. The scriptures feed my soul each day And on them I do often pray, With much reverence and a tear, As autumn of my life draws near. Of course my hair is turning gray And yes, a little more … Read More As Autumn of My Life Draws Near

Validating My Soul

Silence embraces as purple veil falls, Events of the day echo through my mind, A benevolent force deep within calls; Perhaps it’s my id with synapses twined. I dream off a candle flickering bright, A book is opened and the pages turn, In a world of darkness I seek out light, There are divine lessons that I must learn. Fleeting are these cryptic visions that … Read More Validating My Soul


Water Of Soul And Thoughts That Breathe

I am a thirsty traveler cupping my hands into mind’s stream, sipping metaphors, slaking an ego, satiating desire. An offering to thee I give, Palliative, rendered to quell, I drink of ancient id to live, Always quenching from deeper well. Tactile thoughts are my oxygen, breathing deeply, I can transcend, verse now circulates through my cells, synapses fire, and fingers twitch.


The Lady With the Red Armband

Early September held fast to summer’s green but not so tight that autumn could not whisper a reminder of its coming, between snaking rays of sunshine. Dublin is a magical city, from the brightly painted doors, to the wrought iron fences with cobblestone streets here and there, Celtic pride floating heavy in the air. I found a park next to a canal, storybook beautiful with … Read More The Lady With the Red Armband

Autumn’s Whispered Canticle

Wet leaves form a multicolored collage, On black pavement the hues are astounding, Squirrels in trees launch a chattered barrage, Their neighborly babble is resounding. Swishing vortices craft an ambiance, A deep sighing melancholy pervades And it all draws a certain audience, As the flora magically cascades. I breathe deep on a gray misty morning, With a sage maturity I relish The subtle changing … Read More Autumn’s Whispered Canticle


You request that I repeat it again and again, “Soft… and enunciate each syllable,” you say, “With eyes closed.” I sense you inching closer and closer to catch my pouting lips forming a precise ‘bu,’ before you kiss me.     Michael J. Donnelly©2013