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the cup runneth over

by luke hayden

I am full up. aghast! at last this tempest storm hath wrought its final blow upon me, and now I must bow, out of fight, sight, light, and reason! —

Forgive Me.

sense seems gone to wander once again,

I’m afraid. and whilst one’s ultimate desire is control

(as if) it must be noted (with regret) the tenacity of said storm, knocks

and knells and all.

sailing into harbour shouldn’t ache this much,

should it? perhaps it’s in my ignorance that I ask - and yet I fear that may not be. if I am, then I must. if I must, then I cannot rest until the End. if this be so, then why, I ask, must I be made this

weary? Penance for sins not-yet-done or done-before? I, alas, know not what but to guess. Perhaps that is the why, whilst it eludes me.


Luke is an Irish writer based in Dublin who has been previously published in both The Madrigal Press and The Player, with poems of drastically varying degrees of quality. Poetry is a true love but one that he really needs to call more lest they leave him for good this time. When not writing (which he really needs to do more of, the prick) he's desperately trying to figure out how not to waste his twenties, and complaining about the cost of a pint in town these days.


Image by Bree Anne
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