Tag: Poetry
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Wouldn’t it be better?
(In reply to Phillip Larkin’s, “This be the verse.”) https://andrewwhalanpoet.substack.com/p/wouldnt-it-be-better
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The Deinfatuation
I love you, she said. And I sighed. But I’m not in love with you. And I cried. Finally at last our hearts have met, Now she’s finally deinfatuated: just like me. Now I thought we can love first imperfectly, Creating for each a space of safety, Drawing each other outwards and towards, Each other…
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Selfish Me
Is it selfish to wish the same fate on another? Selfish to hope that others suffer worse than me?
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BladeBreaker
First the loud shushes, next the false names then the hidden bruises: all the excuses that defame.
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The Visitation
Is it you or your emissary waking me at one or three thirty conversationally questioning me about yet another unspoken intimacy?
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The First Cut Will Always Be Mine
The glass shatters, I scatter and send my children to safety, Grab broom and dust pan, sweep up the hail strewn floor.
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All Poets are Better than Me (2)
Every word I write is now broken, Vowels and consonants combined dead now spoken, Because every thought first belonged to another’s mind. I’ll stop now. As everything I write could only be plagiarised. Because surely these words were another’s Their letters previously penned before by others Meaning my vowels and consonants are pre-written By the…
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Beyond the shore
I will walk out to you beyond the swirling shore Shouldering aside the breaching waves Overturning me and washing me back once more.
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The Sin of Eve
Welcome to trial by ordeal with a modern twist Where any trivial detail once missed Ensures that no one will ever believe Her. For she is on trial for the sin of Eve. Her’s is the devilled apple meant to deceive man into sin all her fault now as he sees himself exacting revenge unbidden…
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Session Whisperer
“So how have you been since our last time?” “Doing a bit better,” I say, eyes bright with a wan smile. I’d rather not show the glimpse of the chasm that yesterday I thought in fear that I would fall over well almost nearly. In penance therefore I list out my mini troubles all sonorous…
