Alice

Samson

I could see clearly the
smooth pink of your lips
as they met and parted.
It reminded me of days
and of my love’s gentle sighs.
Your fingers also continued to fall
and rise and each time seemed
opaque and free.

And suddenly it was as if
love and fear and all the other
green prejudices of our minds,
that pour out on wet and windy nights,
were just droplets of rain
on a train window
and could be as easily wiped away.
Leaving only the creases
at the edges of your
subtle
brown
eyes.

Checkit

http://www.youtube.com/user/BaritoneBenRussell

Variation on a Door and a Sigh

A cabbage patch of human heads
And you and I
and eyes
of greens and blacks and
reds.

Twisting doors open
screaming on their hinges
in empty halls
as footsteps fade away.
And we
inlaid with trouble and whispers
and quick quiet gasps.

Clare de Lune

In a field of watermelons
and tall grass,
right in the middle,
sits a little girl
with curly flaxen hair
and little red rounded cheeks,
smiling a somewhat toothed grin
spitting seeds into a wide meadow pond
and laughing.
Laughing like she knows the world.

In the branches of the trees
of the dark forrest that overlooks the meadow,
the watermelon field,
little birds,
bright blues and reds,
twitter and fling themselves
from twig to twig.
Down below
the eyes of dark things watch.
Thick salivating tongues
red as blood.

But at the sun’s rays they hish and turn away.
At this lightness,
this ease of tone,
they screw their eyes up and their claws in
and retreat.

By the pond the little girl
has begun to dance
to music that only she seems to hear.
And over the brow of a hill
her mother’s voice comes seeping
in warm amber tones,
lilting roundedly and softly on the breeze.
The girl, hearing her mother’s voice,
turns homewards
running her hand through the grass as she goes,
as the light turns to golden twilight.

And as the night approaches,
in slow smooth strides,
and far away in the sky
the stars link arms and gaze down
on the little girls closing eyes,
her sleepy smile.

Untitled

‘Cos dreams are full of
long lost friends
and good days come to
weary ends.
And while I may have danced
and thrown my head back in delight,
it wasn’t me you loved
that night.

A must see!

Reviews

Here’s what the Irish Times said: 

http://www.ireland.com/newspaper/features/2007/1108/1194222842797.html

Tada!

Tonight,
I made my operatic debut.

http://www.operaworks.ie/arts.htm

http://www.corkoperahouse.ie/opera/index.htm

Comptine D’un Autre Ete L’apres Midi