Smeared Ink and Thoughts of Love

I found a note once in a parking lot, plain white,
rain-soaked, dropped accidentally I guess, with
just two words, “My Love.”

Maybe it was the shortest love letter ever or
the author was at a loss for words, who knows
but I do understand that sometimes, love
is not about words but more so
about action like; starved eyes glancing
across a room at the object of their affection or
a touch so tender that it electrifies all
your senses, melting into your soul.

I hoped whoever wrote the note, could always
experience what I knew to be; beyond words.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

Recall Our Love As Summer In The Shade

I beg these memories in time not fade
Rusted and crisp as the leaves of late fall;
Recall our love as summer in the shade.

Your skin was cool as the finest of jade
Till our lips met and I held you in thrall,
I beg these memories in time not fade.

I am glad our hearts not easily swayed
Held tight to weather through many a squall;
Recall our love as summer in the shade.

And the moments we bowed our heads and prayed,
When under God’s arms we felt very small,
I beg these memories in time not fade.

Not for riches one moment would I trade
For blessed life I have cherished it all,
Recall our love as summer in the shade.

My devotion, dear is a price well paid,
On Heaven’s shores my love for you I scrawl,
I beg these memories in time not fade;
Recall our love as summer in the shade.

Villanelle/love poem
Michael J.Donnelly©2016

When The Northern Finches Dance In Bare Trees

There is a foreboding scent in the air,
Calico flora contrasts the gray sky,
Autumn paints scenery with adept flare,
Winter’s a stalking cat lingering nigh.

Arctic winds will soon blow with cruel force,
Stripping all trees and the bushes near bare
And the remnants of leaves, brittle and coarse,
Will be picked by doting moms from kid’s hair.

Skeletal birches and aspens will cringe,
Wicked jealous of evergreens and firs
Who remain fully clothed, though sporting dinge
Presented by season’s blustery blurs.

When the Northern Finches dance in bare trees,
I know that there will soon be a hard freeze.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

When Autumn’s Somber Shadow Grows (Kyrielle Sonnet)

When autumn’s somber shadow grows, Cross desiccated leaves, it knows The tilting of the earth has wrought; Sun parallels horizon taut. When vestiges of summer fade, When festive harvest plans are m…

Source: When Autumn’s Somber Shadow Grows (Kyrielle Sonnet)

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When Autumn’s Somber Shadow Grows (Kyrielle Sonnet)

When autumn’s somber shadow grows,
Cross desiccated leaves, it knows
The tilting of the earth has wrought;
Sun parallels horizon taut.

When vestiges of summer fade,
When festive harvest plans are made,
When souls crouch near a hearth that’s hot;
Sun parallels horizon taut.

When tantalizing baked smells waft,
When thresholds battle fall’s cold draft,
When house pets claim their cozy spot;
Sun parallels horizon taut.

When autumn’s somber shadow grows;
Sun parallels horizon taut.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

Yonder Comes a Storm, Can You Feel It’s Rage?

Blustery hot air from politicians,
Could be the real cause of global warming
As minds give thought to sad premonitions,
People are restless, there’s a storm forming!

Hard work and sweat’s not respected you see
If you have much, you must be a miser,
So say the socialists with their lame plea
Who are convinced their ways are much wiser!

Power hungry elitists want to rule
With promise of a better life for all,
And all the while, they rub their hands and drool
Secretly plotting America’s fall!

Evil will triumph if good men ignore
The freedoms that our forefathers fought for.

Michael J. Donnelly©2013

The Great Baleful Moon Battle

In a mountain meadow centuries ago,
Lycans and vampires gathered for a fierce fight,
A dark conflict took place under full moon’s glow,
To determine just which race would rule the night.

Winged vampires circled with their talons full bear,
Tension was so thick you could cut it with blade
As countless hulking beasts snarled into cold air,
Both sides signaled fury as they loudly bayed.

Then came the moment when leaders gave the call,
The first wave clashed in an immense crimson cloud!
So it began, an earth shaking bloody brawl!
Sharp claws and fangs slashed as their cries echoed loud!

The hellish beasts raged slinging body parts high!
Winged ones barrel rolled, diving into the fray!
As a baleful red moon rose high into sky,
Each fixed on a target, determined to slay!

Blood created mud; iron stench filled the air,
Long into the night these creatures clawed and scratched,
Rival kings viewed the fierce battle with cold stare,
There were scores on each side horribly dispatched.

Hundreds fell; many more were mutilated,
As bloodlust continued till just before day,
This scene from hell that looked to be ill fated,
Suddenly ended as; they all ran away.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016

The Sorcerer’s Screaming Adulteress Wife

In a graveyard surrounded by high stone wall,
Stood a hulking and dark very old oak tree,
With branches reaching up near fifty feet tall,
In moonlight it appears to offer a plea.

On breezy fall nights its fallen leaves swirl round,
In vortices that dance over all the graves,
When winds gust with force there is a howling sound,
That echoes amongst headstones and walls in waves.

In the corner is a crypt where nightshade wraps,
Creeping down stairs harshly neglected by time,
Far below behind granite door something taps,
Crying like a banshee in darkness and grime.

On the vault door is a neatly chiseled verse,
Poignant final words but damning however,
“For adulterous ways oh woman, I curse
And lock you alive in darkness forever.”

Michael J. Donnelly©201

In Magical Realms of Dragons and Knights

Amongst white heather the knight stood his ground
As the black onyx dragon reared its head,
The creature inhaled with a whirlwind sound
And glared at the knight with its eyes blood red!

With dawn at his back the knight drew his sword,
The steel it did gleam in the morning light,
With loud cry he yelled, “For Kingdom and Lord!”
And thus began this epic vicious fight!

Intense plasmatic flames struck the knight’s shield,
But enchanted metal does have its worth,
When fire subsided the knight spun to wield
Excalibur; cleaving through devil’s girth!

With dragon’s head towed, too heavy to lift,
To Camelot he road, with Merlin’s gift.

Michael J. Donnelly©2016

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,
The ‘Carpathians’ called like siren song,
Pulling me forth, in my soul it was twined;
Something ethereal beckoned quite strong.

I hired a coach with provisions in stow,
Destination unknown, at dawn we left
As sun kissed landscape with an eerie glow;
We entered the mountains through a dark cleft.

Granite outcroppings like gargoyles loomed o’er
As we traveled dim roads near forgotten,
The way was lifeless, save a scraggy boar;
Consuming a dead mate bloated rotten.

We entered a valley just before dusk,
And already a full moon was peeking,
There was a foul stench of animal musk,
As the coach halted; with springs a creaking.

My coachman, a mute, known only as ‘Dirk,’
Knocked twice on the coach to signal a rest,
A reliable chap, who needed work,
Lit his Meerschaum pipe pulled from leather vest.

Peering at the moon as it quickly rose
Atop rocky peaks far off to the east,
Again I smelt pungent musk in my nose,
Animalistic no doubt, from a beast.

Around a small camp fire, Dirk and I sat
We sipped brandy and conversed best we could,
With gestures and note, did our best to chat,
Stoking the fire with bits of scavenged wood.

And then it struck me, there was no night sound,
No crickets chirping, no hoot owls in trees,
Just fire’s crackle and my heart that did pound;
As there came a foreboding mountain breeze.

Just then, the horses gave a startled whine!
They started nervously dancing around,
And as the full moon overhead did shine;
There erupted a most bloodcurdling sound!

A maniacal deep primeval yell,
Reverberating with echoing verve!
Like something had crawled from the pit of Hell,
That greatly shocked each and every raw nerve!

Dirk and I sat there, quite frozen in fear,
As we gazed into the night with great dread!
With kneejerk reaction we gathered gear,
Then we pissed on the fire and quickly fled!

By lamplight old Dirk snapped leather reins,
And we were off like a cavalry charge!
With startled heart pounding blood through my veins,
In our wake, Holy water I did sparge!

Till the horses were winded some miles hence,
We seemingly stampeded for our lives,
Until we came to a great metal fence,
With a strange gate fashioned from swords and knives.

Above the odd gate, was a sign, in rune,
And atop that, a large raven did caw,
Yet beyond, there did lie, human bones strewn,
Where vultures and ravens, did peck and gnaw.

Our horses could yet sense something was wrong,
As Dirk did his best to keep them steady
And beyond the gate, midst fog, chanting song
Wafted our way with incense quite heady.

Strange mantras unknown, but ancient I’m sure,
Echoed as if sung in a great stone hall,
Mesmerizing they were, calling with lure,
As mist cleared revealing ramparts quite tall.

I brazenly did push open the gate,
Held simply with a wrapped and rusted chain,
Turning to Dirk, who sensed I could not wait;
I swear he mouthed, “You are bloody insane.”

Michael J. Donnelly©2013

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

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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 what did they write?

On the table with the letter I found
An ornate knife amongst painted rune stones,
When I touched it, from beyond I heard sound
Like many anxious irritated moans.

I then examined the curious knife,
With haunting visions running through my head,
And the letter read, “Best run for your life
For outside rising, are the hungry dead.”

And such as it is in a dream, I ran!
From out of that room through graveyard pitch-black!
Through thorn and bramble confused with no plan,
I was like a ship sail taken aback!

I screamed with torment, thorns ripped at my clothes!
Behind me a throng of undead gave chase!
The rot of flesh hung pungent in my nose,
Why was I here in this horrible place!

From a hissing mist, tentacles did rise!
Bile rose from my gut causing me to choke!
In the gnarled trees I saw glowing red eyes!
My alarm clock screamed; from nightmare I woke.

Copyright Michael J. Donnelly 2016