Patricia Walsh‘s poem: Moonstone Chandeliers

Studied softly through a foggy mountain dew

The mistimed kiss massacres the association

Thinking in a mumble, slight disasters erupting

Tittle falling from the law not really an option.

Skating on thoroughfares, more public the better

The right colour of blood whistles the part

Limited form grappling in the ancient programme

The prisoner of a singular mind won't budge.

Not yet obsolete, at least for lack of trying,

Irrelevant dissertations scour the plate

The regular break not good for I, the smoker

The blasé lottery that none can ascertain.

The silver tears counting on the holiest work

Witnessed night and day to no real good effect

This laissez-faire decisions suffocate on discovery

Reading on misdemeanours is almost a second wrong.

Stealing under a watch gifts from another hell

Pitching in for sweetness under the August sun

One nourishment less, the punishment stays

Right to innocence suited when necessary.

Dumped like an outgrown toy, clothed in the reckless

The cigarette burning in its own private hell,

The hard slap fixing what is no longer there

Holier voice amiss when dealing with the word.

Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland.  To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals across Ireland, The UK, USA, and Canada.  She has also published another novel, In The Days of Ford Cortina, in August 2021.

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