Comrade. (Remove filter)
Friendship. Loss.
His hands shook
His face contorted
He fought with
His stomach
Every morning
Palsy’d whiskey
Into his coffee
At breakfast
Thought no one
Noticed
As his new day
Was inhaled past
His vomit rotted
Teeth.
His breath stunk
His skin was
pallid
He hadn’t washed
His eyes
Were like
Dark
Stained glass
Portholes
As he peered
Ou...
Monday 28th January 2019 7:31 pm
Recent Comments
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on August 2025 Collage Poem: A Cut Above
8 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Sonnet: Imigh Hotovely, Imigh Smál Damnaithe! Imigh is Póg mo Thóin! [Out Hotovely, Out Damned Spot! Out and Kiss my Arse!]
12 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Fallen Leaf
21 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Spinocracy – The Art of the Fall*
26 minutes ago
Yanma Hidayah on The heart that waited
28 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on I SUPPORT GENOCIDE ACTION I OPPOSE PALESTINE ACTION
35 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on 'Little Boy' 6/8/1945 (80 Years Ago)
43 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Starved.
47 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A SEASON THAT SKIPPED US?
48 minutes ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Elementary
57 minutes ago