' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Theatre Of The Self(For My Old Pal Al) Poem by Dónall Dempsey

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Theatre Of The Self(For My Old Pal Al)

Rating: 2.6


Incense
& music

candle light
& stained glass

these
my religion

the church
of the senses

my only existence

lost
in the sweet jangle

of the swinging brazier

prayer
forming in the air

real & tangible
as a ghost

coiling &
uncoiling

like a snake
made of smoke

wrapping itself
around the choir's

sweet voices

love to see
the words

clothed
in smelly smoke

ascend
the perfumed air

building a stairway
of music

made suddenly
visible

reaching for a Heaven
even then

I knew
did not

exist

glorying only
in the make believe

the theatre
of the self.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
alice sunderland 24 March 2010

GOD! i wish i could write like this Donall. i wuz floating away with the smoke as i read it. genius.

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Dónall Dempsey

Dónall Dempsey

Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.
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