Saturday, August 26, 2006

That clock face randomly selected.
by Hugh O'Donnell (25/06/2006)

...vacant.

Around her,
we relaxed in silence.

Silence -
still.

Her rasped struggle
complete; that
clock
face
randomly selected.

Mid-denial tilt at rest upon the pillow
drew us dry,
across preparatory days:

(expected,
returning for board
and lodgings

passively
taking up familiar rooms

a model guest
upon carpets - tread not;

vacant doorways and time
for tea;

fasting
through dawns;
miscarriaging
at morn -
aided.)

posted by Hugh O'Donnell @ 9:30 PM 0 comments

Rich Blend
by Hugh O'Donnell (26/08/2006)

No amount of tears
pressed from my eyes in moments of solitude and immense despair
could fuse you into being.

You
would smear in my hands,
mud and seep into my knees,
dissolve
and disseminate in the rain.

Clawing –

from a distance -

would only blend you farther and farther
from hope
of reconstruction.

You remain
a conglomerate mix: father and
only
daughter.

posted by Hugh O'Donnell @ 9:29 PM 0 comments

Saturday, August 12, 2006

Poets On Fire

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Sunday, August 06, 2006

This poem recently won the Stella Whitelaw Ruby Writers Award, August 2006


Fragility
by Hugh O'Donnell (29/07/2006)

Apoplectic buzz
against a perspex lie
I empathise with your struggle,
your inaudible cries,
little butterfly.

(Now, what is this growing gloom -
this darkness
at noon, now tangible
and to which you cling?)

A fleshy cave
divines a route to safety,
seance-like, delicate
airborne porcupine. And to an open
sky you are presented,
encouraged on by a gentle
pout.

Drunkenly,
you lift into the foul-
fresh ether, tortoiseshell
kaliedoscope, under a growling
orb, high above the choking
brine.

Night-time.
Our course funnels
an artificial galactic outer-edge
that paves
the Northern 'sphere.

posted by Hugh O'Donnell @ 2:16 PM 0 comments