Writing Poetry

Old fumbled feelings

remain coiled with vicious potentiality

in the dark cave that is my mind

unsatiated, unresolved.

Thoughts are cast aside

like tide-worried stones,

rounded from comings and goings

relentless polishing of everything between.

Bone beaches of words 

remain as runes of mind, and

I continue to send out the invitations

to those who have been uneasy bed companions

elsewhere:

Please come and sit together

at my wedding feast.

Seating arrangements are difficult

And rarely final.

                                                                                   ©Copyright Niall OConnor 2014