Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Suitcase Pass me a cigarette, I think there’s one there, Share me a moment that’ll follow us, Over a dreaming, gleaming sun filled glorious future. I’m tired, so tired, dreary wearily sitting, An airport lounge is pretty in her exterior, Continue reading Suitcase by Eoghan Lyng
Fish On The Grass Like a fish on the grass, I’m dying, Crying in the sunshine browning, Frowning, frightens me, I fail, Mated under bait, fate has cruel, Twists to feature me. I weigh my fin bely my thinking, Sinking, Continue reading Fish On The Grass by Eoghan Lyng
I Chant Her Name Through the wind I call, a curtain takes her toll, My eyes fall to the ground she walks, Amazed the place we seek so close. She chose the high road, a fair road, Nobody knows how Continue reading I Chant Her Name by Eoghan Lyng
To A Friend From Afar If words could convery the sorry eyes I hold, After weeks of angry sustenance, Glares weaned from ignorance And abhorrence, Then I’d write down those words, Through a letter weathered, From these bruised hands of Continue reading To A Friend From Afar by Eoghan Lyng
A Stage Is Set I’ll walk, the Patrick Square Jazz Club finds me, her eyes hide me behind a shadowed sidelined sea. Autmaticity, thematically, erratically, she’ll find me. Stirring, whirringly, worrylingly run-down solemnly patiently pays me a tolerance never seen Continue reading A Stage Is Set by Eoghan Lyng
Think Of Me Think of me in the wind, Think of me when you sing, Think of me in the sun, Think of me as you come, Think of me in the sand, Think of me as your man, Think Continue reading Think Of Me by Eoghan Lyng
Patrick Street A walk on Patrick Street belies me, Lettered on the cobbles find me, Seated beaten try outs drink to findings, Aligning themselves in silver linings. A fiddler plays out in reels and in jigs, Ceilidh’s and maybe’s, songs Continue reading Patrick Street by Eoghan Lyng
The Cruelty Of The Camera It only takes a picture to understand, That your place has been taken by a better man, Whose prowess in the sexual field, Is greater than any you’ll ever yield. It only takes a snap Continue reading The Cruelty Of The Camera by Eoghan Lyng
This Physical Sense Gone in body alone, I chose, To walk away from that winding road, That life once chose for me. Taken from the physical place, I chased the dream once displaced, By what I thought could be. Sliding Continue reading This Physical Sense by Eoghan Lyng
What If She’s Dying? And what if she’s dying? What if everything you stood and stand for falls with her? You couldn’t stand to understand The pain which plans to emulate Itself when the words are read And said “she’s Continue reading What If She’s Dying? by Eoghan Lyng