In the airport bar
he was wearing my eyes;
circles ripped with hurricanes.
The wind reached for my hand,
saw me old,
took contradictions & splashed them
on my brow.
Should I make them valentines;
the trails, the test?
One loves more. One loves less.
This ring we’re in; let them lose, win?
In the airport bar
he was wearing my eyes;
circles ripped with hurricanes
but there was no one left
to leave or land for,
anymore.
Less; just more of less.
Poems, Poetry, Poets
Some lays of the Fianna, translated from the Irish by Annraoi de Paor with illustrations by Tim Halpin
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By Miri Elm
Damien B. Donnelly 
Wow, so many thoughts on this one, Damien. Love it.
Thank you Dorinda so much. It’s been a while since I was properly on WordPress- I hope you are keeping well despite the times 🙏🙏☘️☘️💚💚
We’re all well here, thank God. I was away a bit myself. Hope to see you around more often 💜💜
Interesting. Did you write the original version as well?
Thanks Brandon, the words behind are the lyrics from a Joni Mitchell song The Priest from the Ladies of the Canyon album
Oh, okay. Sorry, I wasn’t familiar with the song. I like the technique you used, though. Maybe I’ll take a look at one of my favorite songs to try.
Love that last line. And it sums up both the song, and your poem, so well. (K)