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1d · 34
MEETING W.B. YEATS FOR THE FIRST TIME
Donall Dempsey 1d
MEETING W.B. YEATS FOR THE FIRST TIME
MEETING W.B. YEATS FOR THE FIRST TIME

curled up in a cuddle
fused into
the one telling the one listening

my big sister
recites Yeats
she whispers:

“Come away o human child...”
as the thunderstorm breaks outside
“...to the waters and the wild...”

as the night breaks open
over the poem
“...to a world more full of weeping...”

the lightning illuminates each line
“...than you will ever understand...”
I cry into her body great heaving sobs

and she says: “Shhh...shhh.. it’s alright! ”
and I only half believe her
her death etched

into my mind
in the coming soon-to-be
future
Continue reading...
1d · 29
SO YOU
Donall Dempsey 1d
SO YOU
SO YOU

baby
like a shipwrecked sailor
washed up on the shore of me

I was only a girl
my self now
turned into a mother

slowly baby
opens one eye then...shuts it
'So this is life...think I'll sleep on it!

she squirms into me
as if she would burrow back inside me
then she ***** and ***** and *****

oh how she *****
my ****** hurts
I shift her to the other

so new so old
all at the one time
so...you
Continue reading...
2d · 15
OH NO YOU DON'T!
Donall Dempsey 2d
OH NO YOU DON'T!
OH NO YOU DON'T!

my death
rose up
within me

eager to be
alive
in this world

walk about
in my place
"Well..well!" I smirked

"Whose getting
a bit ahead of it self?"
Death laughed sheepishly

"Looked like you...
...were on your last legs!"
it looked about nervously

"Oh yeah?" I said
"Yeah!" it said  unable
to look me in the eye

"I hope in future
you will know your place?"
I scolded it

"Ok...ok!" Death sulked
not knowing
where to look

"Don't get
your soul
in a twist!"

Death went
to chat with
my ghost

I could hear 'em
grumbling but couldn't
make out what was said

wondering what
they were up to
and what they were planing

I laughed
they scowled
I went for a pint
Continue reading...
2d · 25
OPENINGS (for Onelia)
Donall Dempsey 2d
OPENINGS (for Onelia)
OPENINGS
(for Onelia)

The openings of famous novels
follow me around

for days on end

or just lounge around
waiting for me to say them.

The opening of MOBY ****
has gone for a ***.

The opening of A TALE OF
TWO CITIES

has fallen asleep
by the radiator.

The opening of PRIDE
& PREJUCIDE
is sipping a cup of Earl Grey
tea.

“Call me Ishmael...Call me Ishmael! ”
pleads the opening
of MOBY ****
returning from the loo.

“Have you washed your hands? ”
I ask it.

“It was the best of the worst of times...”
declaims the Dickens
confused upon awakening.

“Say me...say me! ”
they all clamour...crowding around me.

I just stare
at them in silence

wondering how
I got into this.
Continue reading...
3d · 38
MUMONKAN(GATELESS PASS) ( for Junie )
Donall Dempsey 3d
MUMONKAN(GATELESS PASS) ( for Junie )
MUMONKAN(GATELESS PASS)
( for Junie )

Here, now
sister mine

lost
in time

dead to this world

I offer you

my eyes
my ears

so that you can see...can hear
without fear of Death

always interrupting you.

Take this breath & live again.
I can see enough for two.

*

MYOJU(THE END OF LIFE)

After the bus crash her soul walked home
limping awkwardly now

leaving a trail of footprints
leaking time like blood.

*

KAEI(THE SHADOWS OF FLOWERS)

Often, I visit this moment
long gone

(that has never ceased to exist) .

I go to find my sister
calling her name

lost as she is in the middle
of this vast field

her blue dress a flower

at the very center of it.

Here, Death
does not know her

name
only I call her.

She carries me home
in a piggyback.

I fascinated with the freckle
under the shadow of a curl

where shoulder
meets neck.

I lost in her laughter.

Both of us escaping
Her Death.

*

AME NO UTA(SONGS OF RAIN)

Here, Death
itemises her.

The bruised breast.
The torn spleen.
The broken ribs.
The hemorrhaging.

Death, leaving
his mark

on this
human being.

Familiar with her.
Owning her.

Memory tiptoes
into Death's great palace

& steals back
a freckle

lost behind
a curl

between
shoulder
& neck.

Death
has no need

for it.
Continue reading...
5d · 19
RING THE BELLS
Donall Dempsey 5d
RING THE BELLS
RING THE BELLS

I want to ring the bells
backwards into silence
un-weave Time itself

like some God I
create & re-create
your lost face

I construct your smile
see it rise again from
the scaffolding of memory

even your voice fades
flees before me
sunset scattered leaves

I un-make your dying
cry you
into being

Death laughs at my efforts
this you
made of words and tears

the bells advance
stride upon the air
Time re-asserts itself

I want to ring the bells
backwards into silence
un-weave even Death itself

*

Made a mad dash from Paris to Rouen and its cathedral bells and great horlogue inscribed this poem into my head.
Continue reading...
5d · 25
LOOK! IF THE DOG SAID HE SAW IT, THEN....HE SAW IT! OK?
Donall Dempsey 5d
LOOK! IF THE DOG SAID HE SAW IT, THEN....HE SAW IT! OK?
LOOK! IF THE DOG SAID HE SAW IT, THEN....HE SAW IT! OK?

The dog said
he saw it.

The cat said
she saw it too.

Now, that cat hadn't
seen nothin', but...

wishing she had
she pretended she had.

That cat was
a notorious liar.

One couldn't believe
a meow

she had to say.

And yes, a passing parrot
seen it( or so it was said )

but, having just escaped
a cage

had paid no attention
whatsoever to it.

Parrot was greedy for
that blue stuff

folks called
the sky.

Fly away into its forever.

Truth to tell
there wasn't

a human to be seen.

So, that left only
the dog & the dog's

shadow
panting in the sun.

An old umbrella
lay abandoned &

had nothing
whatsoever to do

with it.

A baby's shoe
lay shipwrecked

amongst a sea
of *******.

It was a golden yellow
with a bright scarlet stripe.

The dog was thinking
about food.

That dog was always thinking
'bout food.

The dog snapped
at a flea that was

bitting it's
right buttock.



"What...was it?"
I hear you say.

"What...was...it!"

Well, now - I guess
you'd have to

ask the dog that. . .



This was an empty street in Malta so whatever was happening or had happened was...neither here or there
Continue reading...
6d · 78
FRAMING THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY
Donall Dempsey 6d
FRAMING THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY
FRAMING THY FEARFUL SYMMETRY

it's the little things
remain
shadows on your skin

memory preserves it
makes it more precious
despite its insignificance

the ephemeral
made permanent
you all sunlight and shadow

marking you a tiger
a stripey 5 year old. . ."Rrrrr!"
you roar burning bright

I throw my little tiger
up in the air
catch her years later

the sunlight now
in teacher mode
displays

an equilateral triangle
made of
pure light

hear her voice
of then
still telling me now

"Look...an equatorial triangle!"
and so for ever
it is

the angle
I see her from
changes

the years come and go
and the equatorial triangle
still burns brightly

you my little girl tiger
twisting the sinews
of my heart
Continue reading...
6d · 18
YOUR SHOES
Donall Dempsey 6d
YOUR SHOES
YOUR SHOES

your shoes
all stand together
lined up like a chorus line

in the bottom of your wardrobe
these your “dancing”
these your “kiss me kiss me shoes”

these your plod around the house
“doin’ nuthin’ shoes these your
“carefree  who gives a....shoes"

the shoes
chatter
amongst themselves

remembering all
the different YOUs
you could be

your dresses float above them
like dreams
your shoes dreamed.

tomorrow they will learn
of your death
packed away

in black refuse sacks
beginning their new life
in a charity shop


*


I was sleeping in my mother's room before her funeral and there were all the dresses I knew and the different personalities they allowed her to be. The clothes seemed to be lost without her and the shoes seemed to suggest that she was hiding behind them and would suddenly pop out and tell me that her death was just a joke. I gazed at them all night without sleep and saw her everywhere and in everything.
Continue reading...
May 24 · 25
THE IDIOT
Donall Dempsey May 24
THE IDIOT
THE IDIOT

“Isn’t that…”
I asked myself
“Dostoevsky?”

he and I
flâneuring
about Haymarket

“Hey Dosty
my main man
is that really you?”

and yeah
it really was
the great man himself

it was early July
1862-ish so
he was startled

to be hailed
by a voice from
a century not his own

and also that
he could understand me
and I he

I told him
I had my time machine
parked just around the corner

that it had a language decoder
that came with it
as an extra feature

“I didn’t know you
were in London?”
said he was just passing through

“Hey man…just been reading
your ‘Idiot’ as it happens
and no you wouldn’t know it

‘cos you haven’t
written it
as yet!”

asked him to come
for a drink in The Marquis
might even bump into Charlie

“You mean… Dickens?”
“Huh huh…” I said
“…he sometimes hangs out there!”

said I’d teach him
How to drink a Guinness
In 15 seconds flat

that convinced him
but of all the rotten luck
Charlie never turned up

probably out
on one of his
endless midnight walks

he said he had to
go see his friend
Herzen

“Hear now
permit it
do not restrain me!”

I let him go
making my own excuses
parking is up on my time machine

“English girls
are something else!”
he smirked

“Yeah…” I answered
“…married one
myself!”

“I have me
a keepsake
of their faces.”

then he vanished
into the fog
a real pea-souper

should have asked him
to sign my copy of
“Crime and Punishment.”

but of course
he hadn’t wrote
that one yet either

“Ahh hell!” I stuttered
”My time machine’s
got a parking ticket!”  

*

“I almost do not exist now and I know it; God knows what lives in me in place of me.”

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot
Continue reading...
May 24 · 279
GHOSTS IN THE WARDROBE
Donall Dempsey May 24
GHOSTS IN THE WARDROBE
GHOSTS IN THE WARDROBE

there's ghosts in the wardrobe
a flotilla of dresses
that stare at my crying

frock after frock
skirt after skirt
they mock me with your absence

your presence
now
only in this absence

this dress
remembers that
picnic

this skirt
the kiss...that kiss
falling at your feet

the so many yous
hung on hangers
float behind plastic

here your perfume
still clings
trying to outface Death

Death smirks
stares back
it doesn't blink

all the different people you could be
blue and yellow and
I slam the door on them

between finger and thumb
I pinch out the candlelight
the dark crowds around me
Continue reading...
May 23 · 35
TRAVELLING ACROSS THE HOURS OF DAYLIGHT
Donall Dempsey May 23
TRAVELLING ACROSS THE HOURS OF DAYLIGHT
TRAVELLING ACROSS THE HOURS OF DAYLIGHT

the sea
herding its flock of islands
through a sunset

I fall to sleep
with a warm breeze for a blanket
a cloud for a pillow

a cloud
balanced on the tightrope
of an horizon

clouds
form their own mountains
above the mountains

a crescent moon chats
to the sleepy hill
a bird eavesdrops

the sun
bleeding into
a river

I travel across
the hours of daylight
to meet a harvest moon

moon and I
both arrive at the mountain
at the same time

moon rests
on the mountain's shoulder
I lie at their feet

birds
***** a barrier of song
". . .this space is mine...mine. . .mine. . ."

we march into town
the Present & I
the Past lumbering behind
Continue reading...
May 22 · 30
THE 'NOT YOU' OF YOU
Donall Dempsey May 22
THE 'NOT YOU' OF YOU
THE 'NOT YOU' OF YOU

you have
abandoned me
to a world without you

escaping into your death
leaving only
a you in black and white

photos of you
that are
‘not you’

a blaze of perfume
from a Coco Chanel
jacket lapel

your voice
now
only a tape recorder’s ‘voice'

I listen to
the silences between
your words

the taking of a breath
the hesitation before
the next breath

your accent
so familiar
only guessed at now

outside
the night takes away
another day

the dark
dark beyond belief
my face reflected in a window
Continue reading...
May 21 · 23
THE CAT'S COMMUNION
Donall Dempsey May 21
THE CAT'S COMMUNION
THE CAT'S COMMUNION  

oh my head
splits open..spills
my memories on the floor

all these
little Donalls
running here and there

curiously
mostly me
at age 7

making my Holy Communion
and just taking
the Host upon my tongue

when Charles
our champion mouser
pounces upon my little self

at this very
holy moment
"Holy Mother of God!"

now our cat
who is normally
a nice chap

swallows me
down in one
big gulp

I wonder if this
constitutes a cat's
Holy Communion

but I am sicked up
slimy as slimy can be
a slicked fur ball

after that
all the many memories
I am

manage to somehow
pull themselves together
make it back into my head

well I wasn't
going to do that again
in a hurry

the cat eyes me
nervously now
looking very very holy

as if a Voice from
up above declaims
"This is my beloved

cat in whom I am
well pleased
...feed ye him!"
Continue reading...
May 20 · 50
THAT VOICE FROM THE WORLD OF MEN
Donall Dempsey May 20
THAT VOICE FROM THE WORLD OF MEN
THAT VOICE FROM THE WORLD OF MEN

she pressed the buzzer
like a pearl button
on a giant's waistcoat


the building
seemed to step back
astounded at her nerve


the sound passing
through all the rooms
answering with a silence


more silent
than
before she rang


it was like being
in a Walter de la Mare
poem and equally


getting no reply
as he taxi ticked over
getting more and more expensive



"Tell them I came
and no one answered
that I kept my word!" she said



as if stepping into
the well worn lines
of the well loved poem



the living had not
been at home
but the ghosts were



they hid behind
the tatty chaise longue
and the Japanese screen



only then
the grandfather clock spoke
in its centuries old voice



which almost
frightened the ghosts
back to life



but she hadn't stopped
to hear
told the taxi driver



"Just drive
drive anywhere
it doesn't matter any more!"
Continue reading...
May 19 · 75
COMETH THE DANDY LIONS( for Lori K )
Donall Dempsey May 19
COMETH THE DANDY LIONS( for Lori K )
COMETH THE DANDY LIONS( for Lori K )

the dandy lions
roar... "We're here!"
and so they are

see how they
surprise the grass
fill the children's eyes

my daughter's feet
run into their colour
a yellow of delight

they bring the Spring
the first feast
for bees

she adores the French
"dents des lions!"
giggles at "pissenlit!"

her father knew them when
he was as little as herself
the "Irish daisy"

hear her sing "dents-de-lions
en printemps
champs de jaune champs de jaune!"

we knock up a sign
"This lawn is reserved
for dandelions only!"

see how they change
from suns into moons
fragile as a wish

that one day she
would become
her self

her breath blowing time
away she now
the woman of today
Continue reading...
May 18 · 37
PLAYING IN THE MUD WITH CHRIST
Donall Dempsey May 18
PLAYING IN THE MUD WITH CHRIST
PLAYING IN THE MUD WITH CHRIST

Memory
shapes that summer
in its own image

the long days of sun
forgetting
the rainy ones

my little one asking
again and again
for "the puddle poem"

and so Christ
rising from the 7th Century
old Irish words

stands
like her
barely five

blesses
the puddles
He had made

she blesses
them the same
with great childish show

watches
amazed as He
creates birds out of mud

sees  them fly away
at the touch
of his voice

this her excuse
for the scattering
of mud

she sees herself
a Christ
and how words

can create birds
made of the mind
that fly beyond time

*

If I was listening to Joyce she would come and listen to his Finnegans Wake with me...not the least put out by the difficulty and dexterity but the dance of sound even without meaning.

So that summer and I reading old Irish poems from a long ago that had long vanished she would pick up on that...loving the seventh century THE BOYHOOD OF CHRIST and how Christ and her could be the same grand age of barely five. And when she looked into the reflections in a mud puddle she could reenact the poem in her mind and be at one with Him in something she could understand. A Christ in a mud puddle...now there was the Christ for her to be be a playmate with.

She also liked the baise fri tóin( slap on the ***)epigram AN INSULT from the ninth century amazed that there could be someone called anonymous and how some words could win you horses and some words win you...cows!

I hear
he won't give horses for poems.
He gives what his style allows:
cows.

But her great favourite was Pangur Bán with the cat and the monk getting along famously and to be content with each other and the work they had to do...the one chasing down words...the other...mice.

She also was a one for modern Irish-isms such as "Are ya stuck in a shuck( stuck in a ditch )purely for the sound of it and appreciated the sardonic phrase "I will...yea!" meaning "I won't no!"

And the phrase " Ahhh it will take donkey's years to do that" she always heard as "donkey's ears" and made her howl with laughter.

THE BOYHOOD OF CHRIST

When He was barely five
Jesus, the Son of God,
blessed twelve water puddles
He moulded out of clay.

He made a dozen birds
-the kind we call the sparrow-
He made them on the Sabbath,
perfect, out of clay.

A Jew there criticized Him
-Jesus, the Son of God-
and to His father Joseph
took Him by the hand.

"Joseph, correct your son,
he has committed wrong.
He made clay shapes of birds
upon the Sabbath day.

Jesus clapped His palms,
His little voice was heard.
Before their eyes -a miracle-
the little birds flew off.

The sweet, beloved voice was heard
from the mouth of Jesus pure:
"So they will know who made you
off with you to your homes."

A man who was there told everyone
the wonderful affair
and overheard they all could hear
the singing of the birds.
Continue reading...
May 17 · 29
ONCE UPON A LONG TIME AGO
Donall Dempsey May 17
ONCE UPON A LONG TIME AGO
ONCE UPON A LONG TIME AGO

T-Rex roars fiercely
the little hands holding the wool
feeling foolish

Mama-Rex scolds
"Now Junior...just you hold still!
Then you can go make a ****!"

Junior( Teddy-T to his pals )
looks outside the cave
a pterodactyl has the sky to itself

Teddy-T squirms
in envy swears he'll tear it
wing from wing

the **** wool
rolls itself into a ball
like a tiny planet

"Who invented wool anyway?"
T-Rex junior roars silently
"Deus-Rex how I hate these cardies!"

the future looks orange
a bright orange
the sky full of time to come

Mamma-Rex looks lovingly
on her fidgety son
"Oh it hasn't been this icy in ages!"

a diplodocus
saunters by
without a thought in its head

T-Rex Junior fumes
that he is missing all those
tasty time travellers

"Is it me..." muses Mamma-Rex
"... or is there more of them time thingys
this season?"

"Now, Junior..!" she scolds
"You know there will be always
more where they came from!"

a meteorite hurtles towards
the tiny blue ball
singing the song of itself

"Don't stuff yourself with time travellers
...ya hear me now...they're bad
for your teeth!"

the meteorite enters
the atmosphere
"Wow!" shouts Junior "Wow!"
Continue reading...
May 17 · 32
DÉCOUVRIR LE CIEL
Donall Dempsey May 17
DÉCOUVRIR LE CIEL
DÉCOUVRIR LE CIEL

doesn't even know
another language
exists

but he likes
the sound
steals this 'CIEL'

from a passing conversation
hoards such words
...such sounds.

loves their texture
their taste
upon the tongue

he thinks it says
"See...L."
why the hell - 'L'?

can't count for nuts
so doesn't even know
it's the alphabet's 12th letter

but likes the fact that
he has 2 'L's'
in his name

and so he acquires
language in such
little broken bits like this

his dyslexia loves it
that's enough for him
he's fallen for the letter 'L'

he's amazed when
in palm and psalm
it refuses to speak up for itself

years later 'CIEL' will
become the sky
in French

well, well..'CIEL'
who would have
thought it

even now
his dyslexia
that magpie of the mind

will morph words
shape shift
sound

his brain
second guessing
what it's found

so that passing in a car
the Clavadel Convalescence Home
you know the one

with the cow outside
in its pyjamas
and with a bandaged knee

becomes....the clavicle
in his warping mind
and his head chants

"the clavicle...the clavicle
there's nothing like
the clavicle . . .

for extending
the manubrium
of the sternum

and the acromion
of the scapula!"
before the dyslexia lets go

and so
Eliot's mystery cat
becomes

a mash up with
filched medical
knowledge

the dyslexia laughs
"That's my boy!"
ah well...

the English language
goes to 'L'
in a handcart

and all's well
that ends well
even if it doesn't

me and that boy
I was and
still am

continue
in tandem to
both invent and

...discover the sky
...découvrir le ciel
...inventer le ciel!
Continue reading...
May 17 · 26
SKIN & BLISTER ( for Junie )
Donall Dempsey May 17
SKIN & BLISTER ( for Junie )
SKIN & BLISTER
( for Junie )

We grin & grimace
drop candle wax onto our fingertips

as the storm
rattles our window pane

angry that we won’t let it in.

All night  it rages
toppling chimney pots with a crash

smashing slates
it strips from rooftops

as we safe
giggle & peel off

our waxen
fingerprints

hold them
(tiny whirlpools)  
in our palms

those whorls of self
unique to each.

I wearing my sister’s
fingerprints

she... wearing mine.
Continue reading...
May 15 · 31
GLASS
Donall Dempsey May 15
GLASS
GLASS

only
her red purse
returns

Inside it a sweet
some small change &
blood besprinkled glass.

it alone
survives
the crash

Death is only
a newspaper headline.
still...this grief

I weep tears
that don't show up
on my face

I push my fingers
deep in the purse
cut my fingertips to bits

the held glass
(all I have of you)
scarring my face

blind
to the pain
blind to the pain

the old blood
and the new mingles
and once more

if only for a second
we are together
for as long as the pain lasts
Continue reading...
May 15 · 31
PER NOCTEM IN NIHILO VEHI ( TO VANISH BY NIGHT INTO NOTHING )
Donall Dempsey May 15
PER NOCTEM IN NIHILO VEHI ( TO VANISH BY NIGHT INTO NOTHING )
PER NOCTEM IN NIHILO VEHI
( TO VANISH BY NIGHT INTO NOTHING )

my death approached me
but: went on by without
recognising it was I...

i hid in the filthy alley
of a passing hour
Death now furiously searching for me

no...Here: here
no...There: there - either
this tiny piece of time

the once and once
only

but Mr. Death had missed the moment
had to return empty handed
I finding myself madly in love with

the next second. . .

**

Mr. Death elects to speak in Latin...thinks it gives him a certain je ne sais quoi...

It's always great to cheat Mr. Death and his henchman Mr. Heartattack. I swore to myself that I would love the next second with all my heart!

In addition to its inclusion among the many translations of Catullus' collected poems, Catullus 101 is featured in Nox (2010), a book by Canadian poet and classicist Anne Carson that comes in an accordion format within a box. Nox concerns the death of Carson's own brother, to which the poem of Catullus offers a parallel. Carson provides the Latin text of 101, word-by-word annotations, and "a close and almost awkward translation".

Multās per gentēs et multa per aequora vectus
adveniō hās miserās, frāter, ad īnferiās,
ut tē postrēmō dōnārem mūnere mortis
et mūtam nēquīquam alloquerer cinerem
quandoquidem fortūna mihī tētē abstulit ipsum
heu miser indignē frāter adēmpte mihī
nunc tamen intereā haec, prīscō quae mōre parentum
trādita sunt trīstī mūnere ad īnferiās,
accipe frāternō multum mānantia flētū.
Atque in perpetuum, frāter, avē atque valē.

Having been carried through many nations and over many seas,
I arrive, brother, at these wretched funeral rites
so that I might present you with the last tribute of death
and speak in vain to silent ash,
since Fortune has taken you, yourself, away from me.1
Alas, poor brother, unfairly taken away from me,
now in the meantime, nevertheless, these things which in the ancient custom of ancestors
are handed over as a sad tribute to the rites,
receive, dripping much with brotherly weeping.
And forever, brother, hail and farewell.

Catullus 101
Continue reading...
May 14 · 25
'SWEETNESSE READIE PENN'D'
Donall Dempsey May 14
'SWEETNESSE READIE PENN'D'
'SWEETNESSE READIE PENN'D'

The room is
flooded with time

like sunlight that has
gotten old

our faces...fishes
swimming in the shiny table.

I am totally absorbed
drawing intensely

Mandrake the Magician
Mighty Solver of Mysteries

gesturing hypnotically at
his evil twin brother Derek.

Lost in The Sinister World of
"8".

The nice lady
talks funny

like people do
in American movies.

I am told she is
my aunt from Chi-ga-go.

Well, whatya know?

She watches the lines
flow from my pen

to make the Magician
happen to the page.

"Now...that's magic!"
she says.

Her backlit hair
glows like a halo

holy as an angel
glimpsed on a Sunday.

"You're my little superhero!"
she confides in me.

She takes the first ever
colour photos of

...unbelievably us!

She even lets me
take her and the horse.

My pulse going click-
-click-click.

She can't get used to
the fact that

"...there are no toilets
either inside or out..."

The table is a brown pool
we fishing for thoughts.

We live in this
timeless mirrored moment

as if it is
all the time

that will ever
be.

We listen to the grass
growing.

After this I will never
ever see her again.

Now I stand
in the ruin of this house

as if time has
broken down

her voice all sunlight
and birds

"Gee, you
got curls

...just like a girl's!"

stroking my hair
over and over.

I wear her touch
even to this day

like a glorious
flower in my hair

her smile forever
turning into

a kiss.  

*

I was dumbfounded to stand in that room where I drew and talked with Aunt Peggy. Nothing but a ruin now that nature is reclaiming and time is clawing back from the humans. I have very few moments of her but this was the one I remember so well and she was so kind and loving to me. I remember her trying to remember a line of poetry about love and sweetness. Of course now I know it is from George Herbert. So I wrote a poem about that( for me)timeless moment. She had brought me a treasure trove of comics and I was in comic heaven! My favourites MANDRAKE THE MAGICIAN...DOCTOR STRANGE...THE PHANTOM.
She came in whilst I was drawing and just talked to me about everything and anything and watched as the drawings emerged. She was so gentle and kind and she smiled and smiled and her smile always turned into a kiss! She wore lovely dresses and talked funny and the lack of toilets was very disturbing to her as it was to me! We were both mortified!

She was amazed I could recite all of THE CREMATION OF SAM MAGEE and Hood's I REMEMBER I REMEMBER without breaking my stride in drawing. This was of course due to my Dad telling me them over and over again...he was my best book!

The quote she was trying to remember was from the last verse of Herbert's second JORDAN POEM from 1633. She made me discover George Herbert just like Nelly turned me on to Aldous Huxley's ISLAND. I just soaked them up like the process of osmosis and there they stay to this very day. I was always weaving "...myself into the sense" of who and why and what things were.

As flames do work and wind when they ascend,
So did I weave myself into the sense.
But while I bustled, I might hear a friend
Whisper, 'How wide is all this long pretence!
There is in love a sweetness ready penned:
Copy out only that, and save expense.'

Flew over to Cork for three days to catch her daughter which was quite wonderful...a river of faces flowing through people. Saw cousins I hadn't seen for over 30 years! And there I was standing in the ruin of this cottage and the room where this tiny moment happened...it all came flooding back...I was drowning in time.
Continue reading...
May 13 · 387
UP IN THE SKY( for W. W. )
Donall Dempsey May 13
UP IN THE SKY( for W. W. )
UP IN THE SKY( for W. W. )

Daddy was a pilotman
went to work in the sky
where bombs came from

he went  to bash the bad men
who mashed all the houses up
made big holes in the road

he told me not to be
frightened but I was and
so was teddy

I didn't like the war
it was too noisy and
kept on too long

the world shook
like an invisible giant
stomping on the ground

Mummy always said
never mind
it will be over soon

but it never was
I prayed it was
God wasn't listening

the black out
ate all the light]
teddy kept his eyes shut tight

next door went away
one morning it was
just not there

a milk bottle
stood on a doorstep
that has no house

Daddy went to work
high above the clouds
one day he never came back

Daddy had to stay
up in the sky
Mummy said he lost his way

I still think of him
living up in the sky dead
not able to come home

being dead means
you can't see someone
and they can't see you

the sky was too high
the ground was too low
so he is always up in the air

I was five
when the bombs fell
breaking the world

now I am 65
but the war still lives
on inside my head

I am older than
my daddy
could ever be

I still don't cry because
Daddy said I mustn't
I tell myself I mustn't

teddy doesn't cry because
he lost both his eyes
so he couldn't

that world now
only lives in photographs
Daddy always smiling
Continue reading...
May 12 · 31
"ÇA PLANE POUR MOI!
Donall Dempsey May 12
"ÇA PLANE POUR MOI!
"ÇA  PLANE POUR MOI!

You
all that Paris is!

The myth...the magic
the music of being.

Sunlight sifting
through summer leaves.

The dazzled waters
of a morning.

A forgotten orange
on a cobbled street.

Chitter-chatter of
passing Parisians.

A flock of
human birds.

A look-alike Plastic Bertrand
busks Ça Plane Pour Moi!

A crumbling wall shouts
in a strong graffiti voice

"Laisse tomber
c'est pas grave!"

Et dans
Jardin les Tuileries

Madame's tone
scolds and cajoles

"Flick-flac...flick-flac
en dedans en dehors!

Suzanne..sous-sus
sous-sus Suzanne!"

Little children
the puppets of her voice

balance on
their too spindly legs.

Old man lost
in his Tai Chi

grasps sparrow's tail
smiles to his secret self.

These and so much more
grace notes to our loving.

We the present lovers
of lovers gone before

stretching back into time
the ghosts of kisses.

We embody all
that love has been.

I kiss you
in best Bogey style

"At least
we'ill always have

'Ça plane pour moi,
moi, moi, moi, moi,

ça plane pour moi
(Hou-hou-oou-oou!)'

. . .Paris!"

*

The title comes of course from the Plastic Bertrand faux punk hit back in the days of '77 and full of crazy lyrics and mad energy. it is a French idiomatic expression which is best translated as "everything's going well for me" (literally: "it is gliding/sliding for me") or indeed " I like it!".

"That's fine by me "/"Ça plane pour moi"
Continue reading...
May 12 · 30
"AND WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOUR FATHER?"
Donall Dempsey May 12
"AND WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOUR FATHER?"
"AND WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOUR FATHER?"

you exist in the space
between breath
and breath

the space between
second
and second

thought
and thought
the interstices of being

this is where
you live
since your dying

between time
and timelessness
between forever and now

hiding you
when Death
comes knocking

"And when did you
last see your father?"
Death demands

I hold my breath
like living underwater
I deny any sight of you

Death leaves as
it arrives
in a rage

claiming
that it
owns you

and so again
I breath you
back to life

live here father
between one second
and the next

between one thought
and the next
the interstices of being

I will not let
Death
own you
Continue reading...
May 10 · 47
THE REVENANT
Donall Dempsey May 10
THE REVENANT
THE REVENANT  

"Ha ha!" laughed the photo
in a black and white voice
with the very ghost of me


gazing at the future
I had
now become


it was hard to accept
that this young scallywag was
someone I used to be


indeed
he is a stranger
to the me of now


finding it difficult
to get back
into his head


he was eager
to talk but I wasn't
returning him to the book

he had fallen
out of after
he had been lost for years
Continue reading...
May 10 · 35
THE CONSTELLATION OF THE GIRL FROM WALLA-WALLA
Donall Dempsey May 10
THE CONSTELLATION OF THE GIRL FROM WALLA-WALLA
THE CONSTELLATION OF THE GIRL FROM WALLA-WALLA

I lick her lifeline
"Oh I can see you are
going to have a wet wet life!"

she watches the tip of
my tongue crawl along her heart line
"You will have many many kisses!"

she sips her fine wine
laughs...munches
sweet onions

all I say
comes true right away
guess I got it right

cute girl from
Walla-Wall sleeping
just up against the Pacific Ocean

"Shhhh..!" says the Pacific Ocean
as it watches over
her sleep

I place DayGlo stars
on all her extremities
she becomes her own constellation

the constellation of
the Girl From Walla-Walla
being looked after by a specific Ocean

"Walla-Walla!"
the waves call to her
but she's lost inside a dream

"Are you really a real Walla-Wallan?"
I ask of her
"Yep!" she grins "I'm the real thing!"

"The only Walla-Wallan
I knew before I knew you
was a girl in a book!"

I turn the snow-dome
up-side d-own
watch it snow forever

I remember her
letter telling me
of a snowstorm she once knew

"I took a little of the snowstorm
put it in the fridge so
it could melt in July."

"The snow storm had never met
a July before
so this was its big chance!"

"When the left-over snowstorm
finally got to meet its July
it cried itself into oblivion!"

"...here. . ." her letter
pauses for ever
outside snow falls now


*



Walla Walla is the largest city in and the county seat of Walla Walla County, Washington, United States.A Walla-Wallan is a person from Walla-Walla! You just don't often meet someone who comes from what appears to be a made-up name or a South Seas island. The sound of it is delicious in itself!

Or something a baby would say learning how to talk! Wanted to write it like a little movie excerpt and to play with time and go from remembered snowdome snow to real snow falling outside...from real time to letter time and mix them up like the way they happen in the mind. Probably only ended up confusing folks!

English villages are the same...the most amazing combination of names or sounds. And sounds...I love. Together the villages of Over Wallop, Middle Wallop and Nether Wallop are known as The Wallops and run in a line roughly North to South following the line of the Wallop Brook, which has its source in Over Wallop.
Acock’s Green, Worcestershire, UK
Babes Well, Durham, UK
Bachelors Bump, Essex, UK
Backside Lane, Oxfordshire
***** Green, Kent, England
***** Cross, WestSussex
Bareleg Hill, Staffordshire, UK
Barking, Essex
****** Close, Surrey
Bedlam Bottom, Hampshire, UK
Beef Lane, Oxfordshire
Beer, Devon, UK
Beggars Bush, Sussex passed her prime
Bell End near Lickey End
Bishops Itchington, Staffs, UK
Bitchfield, Lincolnshire
Boggy Bottom, Abbots Langley, Herts, UK
***** Lane, NorthYorkshire
Bottoms Fold, Lancashire
Broadbottom, Cheshire, UK
Brown *****, Cornwall,UK
Bushygap, Northumberland, UK
Catholes, Cumbria
Catsgore, Somerset, UK
Charles Bottom, Devon, UK
Clap Hill, village in Kent, UK
Clay Bottom, Bristol, UK
**** Alley, Calow, UK
**** Bridge, Hope, Derbyshire, UK
**** Green, nr Braintree
**** Lane, Tutts Clump, Berkshire, UK
**** Law, Northumberland, UK
**** and Bell Lane, Suffolk
Cockermouth, Cumbria
Cockernhoe, nr Luton, UK
Cocking, Midhurst, West Sussex, UK
Cockintake, Staffordshire, UK
Cockpit Hill, Derbyshire, UK
Cockplay, Northumberland, UK
*****, Cornwall
Cockshoot Close, Oxfordshire
Cockshot, Northumberland, UK
Cockshutt Wood, Sheffield, UK
Cockup Lake District, Cumbria. UK
Coldwind, Cornwall, UK
Crackington Haven, Cornwall, UK
Crackpot, North Yorkshire, UK
Crapstone, Devon
Crotch Crescent, Oxford
Deans Bottom, Kent, UK
Devil’s Lapful, Northumberland, UK
***** Mount, Suffolk
Drinkstone, Suffolk, UK
******, Northumberland, UK
***** Barks, Durham, UK
***** Avenue, Derbyshire
***** Hands Lane, Lincolnshire
Feltham Close, Hampshire
Feltwell, Norfolk
Fingringhoe, Essex
Flesh Shank, Northumberland, UK
Friars Entry, Oxfordshire
Fruitfall Cove, Cornwall, UK
Fudgepack upon Humber, Humberside
Gay Street, Sussex. UK
Gays Hill, Cornwall, UK
Giggleswick, Staincliffe, Nth. Yorkshire, UK
Golden *****, Oxfordshire, UK
Gravelly Bottom Road, nr Langley Heath, Kent, UK
Great Cockup & Little Cockup, hills in The Lake District, UK
Great Horwood, Bucks, UK
Great Tosson, Northumberland
***** Lane, Shropshire
Hampton Gay, Oxfordshire, UK
Happy Bottom, Dorset
Helstone, Cornwall, UK
Hole Bottom, Yorkshire, UK
Hole of Horcum, North Yorkshire
Holly Bush, Ledbury, Herefordshire, UK
Honey **** Hill, Wiltshire
Honeypot Lane, Leicestershire
****** Road, Norwich
Horncastle, Linconshire
Horneyman, Kent, UK
Hornyold Road, Malvern Wells, UK
Horwood, Devon, UK
Jeffries Passage, Surrey
Jolly’s Bottom, Cornwall, UK
***** Close, EastSussex
Knockerdown, Derbyshire, UK
Letch Lane, Bourton-on-the-Water, The Cotswolds, UK
Lickar Moor, Northumberland, UK
Lickers Lane, Merseyside
Lickey End, Worcestershire, UK
Lickfold, West Sussex
Little Horwood, Bucks, UK
Little Bushey Lane, Hertfordshire
Long Lover Lane, Halifax
Lower Swell, Gloucestershire
Menlove Avenue, Liverpool
***** Lane, Worcestershire
Moisty Lane, Staffordshire
Nether Wallop, Hampshire
*** End, South Lancashire, UK
Nork Rise, Surrey
North Piddle, Worcestershire
Ogle Close, Merseyside
Old Sodbury, Gloucestershire
Old ***** Lane, Wiltshire
Over Peover, Cheshire, UK
Pant, Shropshire
Penistone, Sth Yorkshire, UK
Piddle River, Dorset, UK
Pork Lane, Essex
Pratt’s Bottom, Kent
Prickwillow, Cambridgeshire
Pump Alley, Middlesex
Ram Alley, Wiltshire, UK
Ramsbottom, Lancs, UK
Rimswell, East Riding of Yorkshire
Sandy *****, Hampshire
Scratchy Bottom, Dorset, UK
Shaggs, Dorset, UK
Shingaycum Wendy, Buckinghamshire
Shitlingthorpe, Yorkshire, UK
Shitterton, Dorset
Shittington,, Bedfordshire, UK
Six Mile Bottom, Cambridge, UK
Slackbottom, Yorkshire, UK
**** Lane, Merseyside
Slip End, Beds, UK
Slippery Lane, Staffordshire
Snatchup, Hertfordshire
Spanker Lane, Derbyshire.
Spitalin the Street, Lincolnshire
Splatt, Cornwall, UK
Staines, Surrey
Stow *** Quy, Cambridgeshire, UK
Swell, Somerset
The Blind Fiddler, Cornwall, UK
The Bush, Buckinghamshire
The Furry, Cornwall
The ****, Oxfordshire
Thong, Kent
Tinkerbush Lane, Oxfordshire
Titcomb, near Inkpen, Berkshire, UK
Titlington Mount, Northumberland
***** Hill, Sussex, UK
***** **, Northamptonshire
Tosside, Lancashire
Turkey **** Lane, Colchester, Essex, UK
Ugley, Essex
Upper Bleeding, Sussex, UK
Upper Chute, Hampshire, UK
Upper Dicker & Lower Dicker, East Sussex, UK
Upperthong, West Riding, Yorkshire, UK
Wash ****, Norfolk, UK
Weedon Lois, Northampton
Weedon, in the Parish of Hardwick, Buckinghamshire, UK
Weeford, Staffordshire, UK
Wet Rain, Yorkshire, UK
Wetwang, East Yorkshire
WhamBottomLane, Lancashire
Wideopen, Newcastle, UK
Willey, Warwickshire
Winkle Street, Southampton
Wormegay, Norfolk, UK
Continue reading...
May 9 · 36
BEAUTY O'ERSNOW'D AND BARENESS EVERY WHERE
Donall Dempsey May 9
BEAUTY O'ERSNOW'D AND BARENESS EVERY WHERE
BEAUTY O'ERSNOW'D AND BARENESS EVERY WHERE

A Christmas
with the Thames

almost freezing, then
thawing & then again

the London of 1598
asleep

under a quietness
of snow

that hides the world
from itself

as some Elizabetheans
go to steal

a theatre
silent now for a brace of years

frozen by bitter
dispute.

The playhouse dismantled
bit by bit

so that when it rises
it will become in time

The Globe
this wooden O.

Will turns his face
up to the stars

laughs
at this theatre theft

snowflakes settling
upon his eyelids

remembering when
he was all of 7

and the Christian tales
told in stained glass

are shattered
for their sins

now only white light
is to be

let in

picking up a shard
of the ****** Mary

here a fragment of
St. George.

He sticks out his tongue
tastes the snow

knows that
all things change to

begin again.

He laughs.

The ****** Mary's smile
still clasped in his hand.

*

Inspired by JAMES SHAPIRO'S COMPELLING 1599 - A YEAR IN THE LIFE OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

The 'theft" of their former theatre,The Theatre, which dismantled would become the famous wooden O. And Will watching( possibly ) when all of seven. . .the stained glass windows of his 'right goodly chapel" been smashed by a glazier who was paid 23 shillings and 8 pence for his smashing. These two images are what burned on in my mind.

I have often stood in that chapel and seen what remains of the whitewashed paintings now brought back to life. His dad had to order this whitewashing months before Will was born but by 7 Will could have been witness to the death of the coloured glass and all that was to be beheld there.

So this Midsummer's Day madness of 1571 really stated with me and forced the poem upon me.

"Popery may creep in at a glass window as well as at a door" as one William Prynne put it. The English Reformation going about its daily task to the dismay of the common folk who had to put up with the religion changing hands and changing hands yet again all in the little time of just over a quarter of a century.

Being a great lover of stained glass and its beauty this was what got me the most!

The title is from Will's Sonnet no. 5:

Those Hours that with gentle work did frame

"Beauty o'er --snowed, and bareness everywhere.
Then were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, "
Continue reading...
May 8 · 103
YOU TWO!
Donall Dempsey May 8
YOU TWO!
YOU TWO!

"You two are being quite wonderful
even if I have to say so myself"
says Life

we laugh at Life
"We have our kisses!"
we tell it

fully clothed
in a naked room
well that can be soon altered

fully naked
in a bare room
sleeping on some moonlight

tomorrow
furniture will fill this space
now it's just moonlight & us

we switch off the moon
tuck it
behind some clouds
Continue reading...
May 8 · 23
OVERWHELMED BY LOVE
Donall Dempsey May 8
OVERWHELMED BY LOVE
OVERWHELMED  BY LOVE

longing for a world
the soul
puts on its body

here
where flesh & blood conspire
the baby’s cry

locked into its body
the soul cries
at its first taste of sunlight

the soul
made flesh
overwhelmed by love

Love
the gift of being
human

my little girl
her soul still
flickering in her eyes

my God . . my little girl. . .
only just human
still mostly angel
Continue reading...
May 7 · 36
COME AND TALK TO MY FLOWERS
Donall Dempsey May 7
COME AND TALK TO MY FLOWERS
COME AND TALK TO MY FLOWERS

come and talk to my flowers
when my voice  is nothing
but the wind

my mind now
a season
season after season

dressed in only birdsong
here I will be
at the edge of summer

the depth of yes winter
here I rest
part of the universe

come
and talk
to my flowers

*


Love everything about Clandon Wood Natural Burial Grounds where I want to be when I run out of breath!
Continue reading...
May 7 · 17
TWAK!
Donall Dempsey May 7
TWAK!
TWAK!

a knife embeds itself
in the space just
by her left ear

as if the wood
gulped it...****** it
in its glint

vibrating still.
In her head
she plans dinner

she stares
at her husband
remembers how

he had come
to court her
...twak!

another knife
flashes spitefully
narrowly missing

her other ear
a little
bubble of blood

like a stud
earring blossoming
on a wobbly earlobe

'Ouch! '
she whispers
to herself guilty

at such
an over
reaction

oh how he had
excited her
her head in a spin

saying he
was in
show business

her world revolves
about him
the next knife

impregnates itself
in the space
between her legs

like a tuning fork
it hums
her excitement builds

a splinter of wood
nestles in her
left inner thigh

'Wow...nice! '
she becomes moist
the shimmy of her

spangles
as the lights catch
her

a little gasp
she faces him
boldly

afraid & un-afraid
upside down now
her world all topsy-turvy

she still so
proud of her
husband's skill

to tantalise her
his unerring
accuracy

the pride of being
(she the knife thrower's
assistant)

as well
as wife
Twak!
Continue reading...
May 6 · 30
"OH POLLYWOG MY POLLYWOG!"
Donall Dempsey May 6
"OH POLLYWOG MY POLLYWOG!"
"OH POLLYWOG MY POLLYWOG!"

he was a prince
good as any to be got
in a fairy story book

you couldn't have
written a better man
eyes like emeralds

she was a princess
although to be fair...a frog
beautiful as any green ever seen

it was their greenness
which drew them together
as well as their Irish-ness

"He is just so...ribbit ribbit!"
he blushed
to hear her say so

"****..!" she croaked
"It's just difficult to find
the right human words!"

she told him if
married they were to be
all would be change and change about

she wore his ring
in her bottom lip
he her heart's "...ribbit!"

she tried to brush up
on the lingo
Human for Frogs

come the wedding day
all was not
as it was before

he had been transformed
into the handsomest
bullfrog

and so they live
happy as a story
that needs no book

too busy loving
to be worried
about its telling

why the change
in the how it goes
from the what went before

that's easy to tell
I live under the spell
of a lively little girl

with eyes so so green
and who as it happens
just adores...frogs


*


Pollywog is of course a tadpole which i used to call her because at four she became infatuated with frogs.

She was just utterly fascinated by our frog folk and would sigh "Oh I wish I had been born a frog!" She had never seen a frog only heard of it from my telling it to her at night.
So that the first time she saw one she was amazed...."Oh my god they're real!" I guess it was as if she had met a fairy! After that there was no stopping her and she was proud to be a pollywog!
Continue reading...
May 6 · 25
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN
Donall Dempsey May 6
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN
GRANNY SHOCKS THE GRANDCHILDREN

me I always
wore a yellow pinafore dress
displaying my what-should-not-be-seen

or a Sgt. Pepper's jacket
serving as a dress...showing off
buttocks & knickers to great effect

moved from squat to squat
lived on hash and Mateus Rosé
***?was just...eh...there

I had loads of lads
loads of lads had me
music and *** - the twin gods

forget "I wanna hold your hand"
we were Stones fans mannnnn
sang "Lets spend the night together"

I wanted to be Juliette Gréco
read/re-read THE STORY OF O
De Sade's 120 DAYS OF *****

?morals?
yeah!yeah!yeah!
whatever

we were all of us always
trying to find ourselves
or escape from ourselves

Granda was mad
bad and gorgeous to know
like straying off the path into

the forest of a fairy story
a **** scary beast
my very own big bad wolf

an Mmmmmmmm
kind of man
"Eat me...eat me!" I'd yell at him

*** was that...what
cheered up those forever
endless rainy British afternoon


*

All the young folk saw was an old lady and they couldn't imagine the life she led when young and how the world appeared then to the youth and what they thought they could do. Youth was the new currency and ***...fashion...morals....politics...music were all thrown up in the air. "The '60's..?" she'd smirked in answer to their questions as if she were a history book rather than a real life flesh and blood individual - "...you just had to be there!"
Continue reading...
May 6 · 27
NOW THE WORLD HAS COME BETWEEN US
Donall Dempsey May 6
NOW THE WORLD HAS COME BETWEEN US
NOW THE WORLD HAS COME BETWEEN US

She lay still
(perfectly still)  

eyes wide open
like a doll’s.

Her husband
lay beside her

“eyes wide shut”
(the phrase came to her) .

She smiled secretly
to her self

imagining he (Tom
her husband)  

was “the” Tom
Cruise.

“Mmmmm! ”
she relished the thought.

“Mmmmmm! ”
she cried aloud.

“Australia! ”
she said as if answering

a question
in a quiz.

The stain growing
from his head

resembled
(for all the world)  

“Australia! ”

There was no need
to phone a friend

or go for
50/50.

“Australia! ”
she said decisively
(so sure of her self) .

“Hey...it’s ok! ”
the stranger bending over her

told her.

She believed
in the voice

in what the voice
told her.

It was warm
and husky ‘round the edges

like her Daddy
when she was little.

Her knee
pained her.

“God...” how it
pained her.

“What’s your name...love? ”
the voice cajoled her.

She had to re-focus
to make the voice visible..

...lights...coloured...
...flashing lights...

dancing
like a chat up

in a disco
under a glittering ball.

“Oh you are handsome! ”
she told him.

“I am indeed! ”
the ambulance man agreed.

“Alan Handsome...how
did you guess? ”

She felt herself
blush to her roots.

She turned her head
looking at her husband’s head

the stain that was
Australia

had imperceptibly become
South America

then a badly blurred
early map of the world.

Then she closed her eyes
and the world went away.

*

Both my friends survived this you will be pleased to know. This was related to me over tea and biscuits when she was dandling her new baby on her knee on a particularly sunny morning that was all innocence and sunshine. I didn't write at the time but the story sunk inside me and fought its way out into this telling after tunnelling through the years and years to reach the proper brain cell that would put it into words...and a synapse later that horrible night found itself trapped in my words.

The title comes from Hank Cochran's MAKE THE WORLD GO AWAY...she used always sing her own words to it and this is what was going 'round and 'round in her mind as they were having a row before the crash. It was the Jim Reeves version she liked best.
Continue reading...
May 5 · 33
DUTCH SPRING
Donall Dempsey May 5
DUTCH SPRING
DUTCH SPRING

I walk through
the 16th century
imperceptibly

passing on into
the 17th without
even knowing I had

done so and here
are Dutch people
staring at me

wondering where I've come from
I look into their eyes
long dead by now

their painted faces
gazing out of golden frames
windows into all that's passed

trying to remember
Rembrandt saying "...the light
from other's minds..."

and here is Saskia
still asleep in
a few brushstrokes

I tiptoe away
an intruder into
their long ago lives

different
yet the same
as mine

The Jewish Bride sad
to see me go
back into the bustle

of Spring
in the Amsterdam
of now
Continue reading...
May 5 · 110
DOIN' FINE!
Donall Dempsey May 5
DOIN' FINE!
DOIN' FINE!

I told you
that I love you.
I told you

what I was going to
do to you
when I got you

all to
myself
alone

I told you...
there was sudden
laughter on the line

“I think you got
the wrong
number love

but keep
talking
...you’re doin’ fine! ”
Continue reading...
May 4 · 35
IS THAT IT?
Donall Dempsey May 4
IS THAT IT?
IS THAT IT?

Time runs out
warps into itself
strata after strata

diminishing into
a dot before me
that I vanish into

Future-Past-the Now
all one
and the same

so this is what
Death is
I'm not impressed

the silence solidifies
Memory contrives
to put the world back

together like
a cut-out
Dada collage

a postcard blue sky
hastily assembled
against some remembered

building famous for something
or other and
a photo of you

ripped out of
an I don't know
stuck in place

glue seeping
around edges
like a white blood

Life is
an Hannah Höch
photomontage

Time congeals
like a fried egg with
a ciggie stuck in its yoke

I laugh at memory's
vain attempts
"Don't bother!" I tell it

in a voice like
the white space
between written words

the world swirls anti-
clockwise down
the plug hole of reality

If this is Death
as I say I'm not
impressed

*

Jan had fallen and hurt her head at Valletta...a great big blue ****** bruise. I was very worried about her and she awoke in the early hours of the morning. I got up to make her tea. I had a very sore throat....could hardly swallow my own saliva. I was waiting for the kettle to boil and idly bite into a slice of bread with delicious Maltese marmalade. I had just made the tea when I found I was unable to swallow the last bite...it got stuck in my throat and I was busy losing consciousness. Time was running away from me and everything was going black. Jan said I just collapsed and crashed to the floor...all I knew was that the world had gone away and everything was dark. Our Maltese friend said that the famous arch in Gozo that collapsed had collapsed from the bottom...."...like a too large lady on too high high heels." I was obviously doing my charades impression of the Gozo arch meeting its end. I too was busy meeting my end....but just before the world was cut from under my feet I dashed a slurp of tea into me which must have in turn helped to make the bolus of bread go down just in time. When consciousness lapped back into my skull I was only aware of water in my mouth and coming out of my nose....I thought I was drowning in the dark and had no notion how I had fallen into such a notion of an ocean. Jan was beside her self and then beside me as I made it back just in time to crawl back into life and the being of me...
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May 4 · 33
FINE YOUNG THING
Donall Dempsey May 4
FINE YOUNG THING
FINE YOUNG THING

“Oh, I was...a fine young thing! ”
“Ya shoulda seen me then! ”

“Lindyhopping Lindy! ”
“Dat’s wot de’s called me! ”

“God! I was good! ”
“I was better than good! ”

“I was to be dug...dig! ”

I laugh as she jive talks me.

“Here...ya don’t believe me! ”
“I’ll show ya! ”

And she proceeds to
show me
how & wow!

Flinging her fragile frame
into a crazy crazy dance routine
...*******!

God! She nearly gives me
a heart attack just watching her.

Doesn’t look a day over 40(she’s a nifty sixty) .

She busts a move(never breaks sweat)
dances me off my feet(I bust a gut) .

Bless her.. little cotton socks.
“Well, young fellow...was I lying? ”

“You...you’re(I gasp) “...the bee’s knees.. the cat’s pyjamas

I try to catch my breath
(it went that away)
I nurse a hernia.

“Ah, you young guys these days
you just ain’t the same! ”

“Why, me & Jim would dance for hours! ”

“We was the best jumpin’ jivers! ”

“Shoulda seen us dancing to“Jeeperscreepers! ”
“Man...we was something else! ”

Then she goes... makes us both
a nice cup of tea

with a dash of brandy in it for me
(“Thought ya needed it! ”) .

Spring waltzes in and
dances with the curtains.

Louis Jordan sings:

“There ain’t nobody here
but us chickens

...there ain’t nobody here

but

us! ”
Continue reading...
May 4 · 28
THE MUSIC OF WHAT HAPPENS
Donall Dempsey May 4
THE MUSIC OF WHAT HAPPENS
THE MUSIC OF WHAT HAPPENS

The sun a crazy crayoned
yellow swirl

with a sky so blue it has
completely used up the blue crayon.

This is Memory’s drawing of...
...a moment from 1972

complete with furze declaring:
“WE ARE YELLOW TOO!”

I sit stick-person-like upon an Irish hill
upon which perches the old English graveyard.

I read to English soldiers from 1872
MARY BARTON and  NORTH AND SOUTH and such like.

A captive audience of broken Celtic crosses.

They listen with all of themselves.

They listen through wild flowers and grasses
holding fast to the sound of my living

voice.

And when sun showers
Interrupt the text of my breath

I climb inside
some tumble-down-tomb

and read so that
even the rain stops

to listen & then

I freewheel down the hill
back to the world of tea.

My dead soldiers
eagerly awaiting

tomorrow’s chapter.  

*

Reading for my Leaving Cert. If you have ever seen the John Huston version of Joyce's THE DEAD then...you have seen the entrance to this graveyard. and a few of its graves covered in snow..it's briefly glimpsed as the voiceover narrates the beautiful passage "...: snow is falling all over Ireland...."
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May 2 · 38
THE THINNESS OF A SHADOW
Donall Dempsey May 2
THE THINNESS OF A SHADOW
THE THINNESS OF A SHADOW

from the very last time
I saw you
to the story

of your death
unable to comprehend
that you do not exist

you to me
are living
yet

you an early morning
silhouette
looking at clouds

as was your want
a living
breathing entity

every moment
now made more
precious than the last

I hold you so
in thought
refusing to let you go

and so
it is
always so

your footstep
as you
cross the floor

whistling Wish
you were
here

the story
of your death
I refuse to believe in

as if it happened
to a someone else
another Brian...not mine

You stepping through
the door
so full of light

stepping through time
"Come on Bud...
I gotta go!"

your death
the shibboleth
I can not utter

you forever always
this
early morning silhouette
Continue reading...
May 2 · 41
JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM
Donall Dempsey May 2
JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM
JULIAN IS WRITING A POEM      

"The thud, thud of a horse's hoof
does not alarm fish."  

MIND UNDER WATER - 1883
Richard Jefferies



Fishes flee him.

They can feel his thoughts
touch them.

Here, Creux Harbour
on the Island of Sark.

Mummy fish tries not to laugh
as her little darlings dart...

It's only a poet!"
she tells her younglings

"thinking thoughts
they won't hurt you.

Julian's vibrations
pass through them.

"It's what poets do
before they turn the world  into words"

The little fish listen
with open mouths.

"As far as I can tell...it's a Julian
one of the cleverest kind one can find

a man composed of equal parts
wit and charm

an all shall be well and
all shall be well type of guy."

Julian is thinking
of nothing

but horses.
Horses.

The fish don't
even get a look in.

He sees the great shires
being swum in the harbour.

Such a magnificence
of being

decanted from land
to sea

the great hooves
treading water

free to be themselves
enjoying their day at the sea's side.

Julian is alive
with this image

the sheer
awe of it all.

The fishes think
nothing of it.

They are used to horses
galloping among them.

It's the vibrations
of the poet's thoughts

that tickles them.

"But our Mam..?""
a small fry ventures

"...there are no horses
here....and now?"

"Ahhh that doesn't bother poets
ya see...they see

both what is there and not there
or what may be!"

She quotes the great 16th century fish
"Nothing is so but thinking make it so!"

Later, at the Candie Gardens
on another island altogether

Julian sits, sips...
a double espresso.

And again.
A double espresso..

We see the words flow
onto the page

charged with the grandeur
of the great shires

as the little fishes look on
amused at the poet's

coffee coloured thoughts.


**

We left Julian Stannard at the table as we went to pursue the museum that awaited us inside. I jokingly commanded Julien to use the time to write a poem. And when we came back to him...indeed he had. A great poem about writing with the sun and horses swimming in the bay at Sark. One felt humbled by his ability and the ease with which over a double expresso he could write so brilliantly. I was hoping that some of that ease would rub off on me but alas no.

I was like a little raft watching an ocean liner pass by in the night.  

All hail the Julian who shall be 'the poet' for ever hereafter.
Continue reading...
May 1 · 38
"BEWARE THE DONALL DEMPSEY MY SON!"
Donall Dempsey May 1
"BEWARE THE DONALL DEMPSEY MY SON!"
"BEWARE THE DONALL DEMPSEY MY SON!"

the frog slid
slowly down
my throat

its legs sticking out of
my mouth...
still kicking

the world
was running away
into the final darkness

my eyes were robbed
of trees and sun
the day being stolen from me

"Death by frog!"
how unlikely
a dying

the bullies all
short-trousered
lads like me

the moment sculpted
from the sunlight
of 1963

then either the frog gave
a desperate last minute kick
or I silently yelled

and expelled
friend frog who
having escaped death

by swallowing
hopped it
lost itself in the long grass

perhaps the horrible tale
of down-the-gullet
is told still

to its descendants
far removed from
that sunny day.

"Better watch out..." Mamma Frog
would make her voice shiver
making her little tiddlers tremble

with trepidation
"...or the Donall Dempsey
will get you!"

*

I was having a bad day....nothing going my way....but still Kim Moore  managed to wring this out of me in her wonderful writing workshop. She applied a Chinese burn to my mind and out popped this in a seven and a half minute sprint of the mind. I was halfway through reliving the trauma of a frog being shoved down my throat to gales of laughter when I suddenly thought "What about the poor frog? How did he cope?"

What did he tell the other frogs and how in the world of frogs it became the tallest of tall tales and my name entered the lexicon of frog horror stories that have been passed down through generations of frog families despite being the innocent victim! All the frog heard in its terrification was my name chanted over and over again in great grievous glee "Ha ha ha...Donall Dempsey!"

Me and friend frog were in this tormenting together. But despite all this my name has gone down in frog history as if I were a Grendel or a Grendel's mother or a Jabberwocky. Just say Donall Dempsey and see what the reaction is...faster than a Basho plop and splash.

Still have nightmares about it! Another time they took off my pants and I had to run all the way home bottomless. In memory no one can hear you scream.

But no one thought of the poor frog...except me. I hope he didn't think bad of me...it wasn't my fault.

Frog saved both our lives by kicking free....his own and mine as I was being held down and could struggle. He saved me from choking on him and I probably gave one last choking cough to expel him from inside of me.

When in France I couldn't even look at a frog's leg without choking.

Ahhh but a bullied frog in the throat is worth a poem in the mind. Both friend frog and myself surviving to tell the tale.
Continue reading...
Apr 30 · 36
...plus ça change, plus ça reste le meme. . .
Donall Dempsey Apr 30
...plus ça change, plus ça reste le meme. . .
...plus ça change, plus ça reste le meme. . .


dawn tiptoes
over the horizon
me at the washing line

******* after pretty *******
adorn my line
the dawn blushes

I bend to the basket
***** after ***** after *****
push my hair behind my ear

ooops the twins are up
I blow a kiss
to the dawn...yawn

"Good boy...good boy!"
I cajole the lads
sobs cease at my voice

think the world of them
make a world for them
their chuckles...their gurgles...my delights

ouch my back hurts
snatched coffee whilst twins sleep
skip through last month's COSMO

"Oh gallant maker of babies!"
I address fat lump clamped in duvet
"Get...the f*. . .up!"
Continue reading...
Apr 28 · 34
SHALL WE DANCE. . .
Donall Dempsey Apr 28
SHALL WE DANCE. . .
SHALL WE DANCE. . .

take the skeleton
by the hand and
we dance

it is a gloriously
sunny day
of childhood

the skeleton
just grins and
I sing I'm all shock up

mmm mmm
yeah yeah
yeah

can tell
Mr. Skelton is
well into Elvis

swings its pelvis
rattles its bones
"Go Skeletoney goooo!"

my da yells
"Donall son
leave the ****** skeleton alone!"

"Plant ya now
dig ya later!"
I jive talk him

the skeleton
comes to a stand still
dangles from a wire

out of his skull
I leave my Da's
army sports stores

I always amazed
that this
skeleton was once

a man
as alive
as me

years later
the army
thinks the same

and plastic
replaces
bone

he's finally buried
with full military honours
flag draped coffin

3 volley salutes
scattering the crows
a future he

could never know
become human
for the last time

then the boy
I was
becomes the man I am

lighting a candle
for my former dancing partner
"Rest easy Mr. Bones...rest easy!"


I wrote of 'him' way back in 2007 and then lost the poem so this year. remembering the lost poem, I wrote this version. Then I lost this version. And then I found the old version and finally the new version again! I found it interesting to see the different ways of coming into a poem...same facts but a different trajectory as one enters the emotional atmosphere of the poem.

*

COME DANCING


I take the skeleton’s hand
& man...do we dance?

I clasp his bony hand in mine
give him a high five and dude...we jive!

No one can touch us now
(we’re in a world of our own) .

We shake, rattle ‘n’ roll...yeah!
Shake, rattle ‘n’ roll
(then we)
*** into dat kitchen ‘n’ rattle ‘em pots ‘n’ pans
Den den den...den den den!

The skeleton flashes me a toothy grin.

“Man...you the one...you the one...what a groove...we’re in! ”

The transistorised air is alive as song after song drives me on.

The skeleton don’t break sweat!
Me...my scalp prickles...sweat trickles down my spine.

Sunlight spills in the window
& the dust motes go wild.

The skeleton places a bony hand on my clavicle
& I place my hand on his sacroiliac.

We waltz eye socket to eye socket
& patella to patella.

Gene Kelly sings:

"What a great day it’s been... what a rare mood I’m in
Why it’s... almost like being in love!"

He’s a fine medical specimen.

He dangles from a thread in his head
& the slightest breeze moves him
...gets him going.

I call him Mr. Bo Jangles.

He lives in my Dad’s army sport stores.

From the inner sanctum of his room
my Dad’s army voice booms:

”Donall...leave that ****** skeleton alone! ”

And goes back to counting his *****.

The ledger grows & grows.
(He mutters & mumbles to himself) .

“*****...soccer...50? ...50! ”
“*****... rugby...50? ...50! ”
“*****...medicine...50? ...50! ”

he intones as if chanting a mantra.

I shuffle out...trying to be cool
(in this heat?)

“Yo, see ya later Bo! ”

Years later I see him
in a tiny newspaper article.

Apparently the Army
realise they’ve got a real life skeleton on their hands

& decide to do the decent thing
(remembering the man he’d been)

& bury him

with full military honours

flag draped coffin
& shots fired into the air to scare the crows away.

I wish I could have...been there.

Say my goodbyes.

I smile & whisper
a little prayer:


”Yo, see ya later...Bo! ”
Continue reading...
Apr 26 · 67
THE ONLY WAY OF LOOKING AT A BIRD
Donall Dempsey Apr 26
THE ONLY WAY OF LOOKING AT A BIRD
THE ONLY WAY OF LOOKING AT A BIRD

( "...it is an astonishment to be alive, and it behoves you to be astonished..." John Donne )

she looked at the bird
with all of her self
as if by some alchemy

of thought
she flew into
its shape

as it became the air
her mind opening
its wings to the sky

the house now
a little blue egg
far far below her

her voice curving
into a beak
that flung its being

into the song
of self
scrawled across a sky

becoming sunset
so that becoming
human again

was a grief
that could only be
expressed in birdsong


*


My little one being astonished when a bird came and stood beside her as just another friendly being. They both stood there looking at each other and then the bird flew away and her mind flew away after it.
Continue reading...
Apr 26 · 36
A STITCH IN TIME
Donall Dempsey Apr 26
A STITCH IN TIME
A STITCH IN TIME

Memory
passes through
the eye of the needle

I purse my lips
coat the thread
with spit

one eye
closed
one eye open

pass it like a baton
to my mother sewing
on  a loose button

the needle
a little silver fish
dashes in

and out
a frayed
shirt cuf

I walk down a street
in New York
as memory

whisks me back
to an Irish kitchen
a kettle whistling

and my mother cursing
"Ahhh son can you
thread that for me!"
Continue reading...
Apr 26 · 32
COME ANOTHER DAY
Donall Dempsey Apr 26
COME ANOTHER DAY
COME ANOTHER DAY

"****...****..shishishi!"
whispers the rain
in Albanian



It sounds like "She...she...sheeee."

In Maltese it is....
xita which sounds an awful lot like "****...ahhh!"

In Korean it is bi which is pronounced "***."

I was trying to catch to the sound of rain falling on tatch and the Albanian came nearest.

Knowledge comes courtesy of a Maltese taxi driver.

Idioms for raining from other countries are something else!

In Irish we say "Tá sé ag caitheamh sceana gréasaí."
Or it is raining cobbler's knives!"

In Greece it is raining chair legs...

In Czech it is raining tractors...

In South Africa it is raining old women with clubs.

In Portugal, Brazil, and other Portuguese-speaking countries..."It's raining frogs' beards."

In Denmark it rains "shoemaker boys/shoemaker apprentices. In 1758 a shoemaker - Carl Jepsen - hurled three boys out the window from the 2nd floor for not doing their work properly. they all died)

Or nearer to the Irish:..."It's raining pocketknives,"

Now ya know



I know I know "cats and dogs' but I was going after ones I didn't know...that were common in those countries but surprising to us.

The poem I wrote about not having my grandfather's legs had the sheep talking in their own language of the countries they were found in so that started me off.

In Korea for example bees don't buzzbuzz buzz but rather go...get this...****. Ahhh isn't language a glorious thing so it is so it is.
Continue reading...
Apr 25 · 46
"WHAT DE. . ?"
Donall Dempsey Apr 25
"WHAT DE. . ?"
"WHAT DE. . ?"

the chairs eyed each other up
suspiciously
each waiting for the other to make a move

the table just stood there
not wanting
to get involved

the painting
turned its face
to the wall

the window pretended
to look
outside

the door thought
it was an open &
shut case

the phone
went to say something but
changed its mind

"Tick..!" commented the clock
but never tocked
shut its mouth again

then the first chair
laughed
breaking the tension

the chairs
all amigos once again
thick as thieves

the room relaxed
the flowers smiled
the curtains danced with a breeze

". . .tock!" said the clock
almost
blue in the face

when I walked in
I could sense something had happened
that hadn't happened

the room said nothing
I looked at the room looking at me
the room stayed schtum
Continue reading...
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