Poetry by Theresa Donnelly


Nature’s lanky child
spills from bed
on a flawless morning.

Head bend forward
into the globular pond.

Tresses bathe amongst
fragrant white water-lilies.

A blossoming dawn
sets ablaze the meadow

of orange-hawkweed
and spotted touch-me-not.

The easterly breeze tousles
before being captured

beneath her mantle
in the stippled shade.

Persuaded to relinquish potency,
to become no more than a whisper.

Mesmerizing motion
lulls the ox-eyed daisies

into a hypnotic trance.

previously published in Verse Afire

Someone Else

Who is that woman
lying by the roadside?

Eyes reflecting moonlight.
Hair pale as corn-silk.

Stone-mouth set in prayer.
I suffered the scream.

Cowered from the midnight sun;
heard heavy metal splice a love song.

Who will tell the man
who waits to swaddle her
in a Pinot Noir night?

Is eager to kiss the small of her back;
have her bathe in his deep-blue eyes

because she never saw the sea.

Who is that woman
lying by the roadside?

Please, please tell them both-
it’s not me.

previously published in Verse Afire

FullSizeRenderTheresa Donnelly was born in Dublin, Ireland, and has lived all over the world. Her poetry has been published in Surfacing Magazine, The Copperfield Review, Tales from the Forest (an Irish publication) and The Caterpillar Magazine among many other publications. She is the author of two poetry books: Moon Witch and Other Scary Poems and Recurrence of Blue. She is a member of The Ontario Poetry Society and a founding member of The Brooklin Poetry Society. You can find her at theresadonnelly.com.