Poetry Corner: Issue I

By Brendan O'Brien

They who let the sweet hellish nectar flow down their throats,
Who stand by and watch as they collapse and fold,
Bellowing out little whispers as it takes hold,
Begin to wander in a shimmering world whilst their audience gloats. 

Stuck in a mania, a benevolent euphoria,
They cannot stop. Basking in immortal glory
"Please stop for all that’s holy!”
Its claws dig in, grasping tight, injecting wretched neurasthenia. 

It seeps through their veins 
As their blood runs black,
They retreat and cower to avoid attack,
Abandoning their chariot yet the horses still pull the reins,

Lost, alone, fragile and broken 
Who’s to say in a few hours they’ll be awoken? 


By Yashowanth Kommala 

You are a broken piece of paradise,                                                             

Which has always made me mesmerise.

Little did I know my heart was held captive,

But I made sure I was proactive.

Couldn’t sense the ground beneath my feet,

As I thought of you and it’s a visual feast.

Craved to wrap my arms around your body,

With love showered on you unlike nobody.

Tears kissed my pillow each night,

Whilst the stars in the sky shined so damn bright.

So much to say, too much to express,

Your hand is what I was longing to caress.

Stared at the ceiling with an empty feeling,

As my soul was in search of an effective healing.

Glad to have surpassed this anguish and frustration,

Because my darling, love is never about an expectation.

Raising Ashurbanipal

By Alan Garrigan 

Countless stars in a depth of night

The midnight tomb is the harbour of the Winter

The whole moon gleams and

Everywhere there is a voice

Oh spirit behold these tidings

Delivered from the gale

Large ashen bones carrying Ashurbanipal

Guide the way

Ashurbanipal I have heard thine voice

I have seen thee flash with red eyes

In the pitch black visions reflect your silhouette

The wind laments