Mo’ Poems Week 2
Mo’ Poems Week 2
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What’s the craic? I hope ye’ve had a gorgeous week. My moustache is slowly (SLOWLY) reappearing as we’re now ten days into Movember. The poems I’ve been sharing by these incredible writers have been nothing short of incredible. It’s been such a lovely project, and I already have notions about how we can make it bigger next year.
Anyway, with that in mind, here are the poems from the last seven days!
Take a read through and enjoy – we’ll see ye next week! If you want to donate to the fundraiser, you can do here.
Mo’ Poem #4: Cian Griffin
Cian delivered a wonderful video poem that can be viewed here.
Mo’ Poem #5: Alex Schotten
I’m just a sensitive man (boy),
who is desperate to scream
but;
suffers,
silently
-rock bottom
Mo’ Poem #6: Stephen Downey
Man of the House
The Man of the House doesn’t feel himself today.
Struggle on, it will be ok.
Struggle on, just don’t drop the ball.
Struggle on, too much could fall.
Struggle on, no one needs to know.
Struggle on, let’s go, go, go…
But what if he paused, just for today.
Long enough to find his way.
Long enough to finally say;
Do you know what, I’m actually not ok.
Four little words could take all his strength
but once shared, true friends will walk any length.
Struggling less, he let someone in.
Struggling less, this is where we all begin.
Struggling less, returning to our comfort zone.
Struggling less, never truly alone.
Mo’ Poem #7: Wayne Power
Trying
I have layers of trauma buried in
Bags under my eyes that I conceal with make up,
that melt away when I sweat
In butterflies in my stomach that can quickly
turn to boiling hot volcanoes, in memories
that are pressed down like the last bits of
rubbish stuffed into an overflowing bin,
In crude jokes and humour that mask a
relentless insecurity, aching for purity, of mind and of peace,
To untangle the cables so I can feel at ease,
Widescreen trauma, that I can medicate
away, write away and therapize away,
I don’t like to tell people, that at the height
of it, when the storm catches me and the
tornado sucks me up, when I’m secretly crying,
When I think I might be dying, and the tears
subside, dissipate and are drying,
Deep breaths and self loathing , the obligatory lying,
I take myself to the mirror
And like a Buddhist chant,
I relive the trauma and tell myself I’m trying.
Mo’ Poem #8: Dan Savage
Dan delivered a wonderful video poem that can be viewed here.
Mo’ Poem #9: Conor Gavin
Good Art
It should shake you up like a violent storm
open up old memories, like stented arteries
full of culturally normed plaque you’ll see
From the moment of birth
you are told to color within the lines
fit everyone’s perception and realign
You dreamed of more and never settled
so today you paint and write, you fight
you turn against societies tide and find the light
You can create something that wouldn’t exist
only for you had your demons slain
Using nothing but your mind – your brain
It is a sacrifice so noble and true
to stroke a brush against the walls of the plausible
to work on the imagined, chisel at the impossible
We graft and cater for those in the crowd
for those who chose to talk instead
and critique our works for which we’ve bled
But we listen, we know
that art is for the brave.
Mo’ Pem #10: Bramwell
Floral Ties
Mo’ Poem #11: Mikey Cullen
Black Bag
That hurt you carry around like a
small black handbag
that, like a bag, you put all your
belongings into-
the thoughts you carry, worries,
And you add more and more,
The bag growing heavier
each time you’ve fed it ,
Till it morphs and shifts shape
and devours you within it,
It consume all, weighing you down
and eventually it consumes you,
Enclosed and encapsulated by the
bottomless hole of negativity-
That has grown and grown
each time you’ve fed it,
The bag sealed shut and only a
shred of light protruding from the
top corner remains as your soul is held captive
in chains,
within a bleak hole of despair and anxiety,
But cling on!
Muster up the courage to clamber
towards the tiny flicker of light,
While in a world of eternal night
any flame that stabs through the
darkness is bright,
Go forth towards your freedom
now you’ve seen your escape,
Fight with valour towards the light
and know that you may fall
and the chains won’t release you
from their clasp without a struggle
but, within that little black bag
a light does shine illuminating your
route to freedom,
And although small now,
As you climb closer to your freedom
the light grows and grows
until you escape the little black bag,
And all of your woes-
Left behind,
And you will bask in the radiance
of the beaming light
that, at your lowest, you didn’t
think you would ever find.
Mo’ Poem #12: Leon Dunne
When the days become dark
And everything appears
Too much
Endure
Clouds drift
And behind them
Burns a marvellous sun.