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"Still", "Unnamed", "Descending Me", and "Tuesday Afternoons" by Gráinne Shannon

Still


Water torn with crossing waves

tells how the wind blows

currents to fight against the

tide rolling forward flattening

sand while cloud tissue

rises catching fire from the

sun and warmth escapes walls

built by ancient hands


I breathe deeply

My lungs billow greedily

pulling mineral air

into my bones


If the earth stopped turning

If the moon tugging gently

slowed to a halt

If I could hold my breath

The sea could at last grow still

and do nothing

but absorb the sky



Unnamed


I would never name it

Shape it for you

Transport it in words

To your ears

For your digestion

So you can enjoy the taste

Of your understanding

And compassion

You would require reasons

And lessons learned

A philosophical conclusion

Me, wrapped in packaging

You can read

It ain’t gonna happen


I suppose I should

Do something with it

As it is, unspoken

It remains as large

As the universe

Surrounding me


Sometimes I wake up

At night and feel the truth

Coming at me through

The blackness and I

Am afraid. I don’t want

To see clearly, thank you

It might be

I am projecting on to you

It is I pushing for a

Consumable me

I’m waiting ‘til it’s ok

To look back

If I turn too soon, I’ll fall



Descending Me


At the top is laughter A healing, welcome, guest

Say hi to joy She loves to dance

Next is hope

A sturdy steam train Sometimes she chokes


Love, like flowers Blooms in many colours

Hello, sexuality A colourful bird of prey

La Ego. Ever performing Never real

The intellect Likes spinning riddles


And empathy You speak, I feel


Engage anger! She burns and comforts me

Beware of fear Poisoning my vision

While illusions peel away

like dead skin


The past

Anchors me down

Grief Coils in the dark

Stillness passes I try to reach with shallow touch

This is the I ascending me



Tuesday Afternoons


You look like happiness to me.

Walking through the office with a noble stride.

Putting things right, winking my way.

If you were my boyfriend,

I would be happy.

When you leave, I want to eat

chocolate, something with icing.

A sugar hit to the brain,

that’s what I need.

Or a blow to the skull,

may be better.

To wake me from this restless sleep

of desire with turns of fear and faith.

Probably the cocktail born in humans

since one saw their reflection

in still water and thinking

it was the self, asked:

can I improve on this?

And we continued ever more

finding flaws in what is

Accepting longing

as the price

for imagination.

It's nothing to do with you really.




Gráinne (grawn-ya) Shannon is a software developer, writer and poet from Ireland. Her day job inspired the award-nominated, Orla's Code, found on her website with her other side projects. When she's not working or writing, she's enjoying city life and often escaping it!

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