Tequila Confessions and Broken Hearts

“I’m locking my heart away in a cage,”
Said the thirty-something dejected man,
“Yeah, it’s pretty much pointless at this stage,
I’ll just live by the river in a van.”

“Give me six shots of your finest Patrón,
A shot for each chick that tore out my heart
This year, feel’s like I’ve passed a kidney stone,
My friggin guts feel like they’re ripped apart.”

As soon as he slammed the last shot glass down,
In walked a goddess with piercing blue eyes
Like a runway model, hair silky brown,
He felt his temperature start to rise.

His mouth opened wide, she reeled in the line,
He was hooked again, for the umpteenth time.

And Dusk Will Sigh

I want to walk with you
in the swelter of July
daub the beads of sweat
from your forehead
with my T-shirt and

there are pieces of us
to be found, like bits
of buried, polished
sea glass, waiting

on a shore somewhere
I see our footprints
overlapping, so close
that waves create eddies
within them, reflecting
our souls embracing;
and dusk will sigh.

 

The Metathesis of Two Hearts

 

We have our own science, we are the unfurling of
otherworldly spring, secret yet salient are our rains,
our buddings, that hide us in lushness
where jade pools lie quiet

where lustful mists moisten trembling leaves
where the fruits of yearning grow fat
on strong vines, plucked only
by our hands

and a dreamt moonlight washes us
when all things here, sigh and
close their eyes, wishing
to embrace our love.

 

 

 

Ode to Winter Ravens

You preen obsidian feathers
that sheen even under cloak of hoarfrost,
with a shaman’s gaze, hiding
a singular sable universe
behind onyx eyes

lifted to winds, cavorting with
wraiths of December, oh sigh of darkest eve,
where do you call home?

From furtive perch, you must take flight
over frosted treetops, brushing conifers of
deep Phthalo green, sending ice crystals stirring,
to sparkle as stars against the moonlit
backdrop of charcoal midnight.

©Michael J. Donnelly 2016

An Unnamed Familiar Shore

I dreamt of it, curled
in the womb, stars pulsed
as Pleiades pointed the way
singing siren songs
with scent of cypress and sea foam,
sails furled by musing winds
reciting whispered poems,
I follow currents.
Amniotic senses haunt, nightly
I close my eyes dreaming
of an obscure and yet
familiar shore.

Sensitivities

Sometimes, I can smell
my own cancer, in a dream
staring into a mirror, pulling
corners of my eyes, watching
wrinkles disappear, longing for
younger days, fluid joints and
boundless heart, as death
sneers back with blood
in its teeth.

The Somber Birch Trees

Highlighted in rising sun’s
neon white, stand testament to patience
reaching for God’s touch
as crooning chickadees hop
gunmetal bare branches
rocking in contemplation
much as senior citizens would
watching bellowing geese
flying south, dreaming
of spring’s waking
embrace.

In Forest Clearing at Dawn

A docile doe stands
nibbling tender dew-kissed ferns
tranquility reigns.

Shimmering Salvation

The devout grasp
their sterling crucifixes
on bended knees, mouthing
novenas by candlelight,
my shimmering salvation is;
forty-five, nine millimeter
one hundred and twenty-
four grain hollow points.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

Ghosts Muse and Count All of Autumn’s Crisp Leaves

Mystical wraiths blow their chilled breath at eaves
Reminding us all that summer has passed,
This icy notice into our soul cleaves;
With a certain cruel punishing blast.

Gunmetal bare trees quiver in their wake,
First frost will soon cover all with a gleam,
Crystal grace will blanket flora and lake;
Whispering to all, “Go to sleep and dream.”

Children laughing roll in umber and gold,
Specters dance in vortices of dry leaves
Touching each one, round fingers they are scrolled,
A solemn tall pine; bows its head and grieves.

Cold noses find comfort in warm dry sleeves,
Ghosts muse and count all of autumn’s crisp leaves.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

Penumbra

The moon hides its face
draped in billowed veil
behind earth’s curvature,
silent stars sigh, unseen
midnight winds whisper.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly

Aurora’s Gleam: an epic poem

I. A Legend is Born “A warrior’s worst enemy is fear Giving great credence to knowing one’s foe, Keeping a sharp eye with equal keen ear Means the difference tween glory and woe.&…

Source: Aurora’s Gleam: an epic poem