poet Martin O'Neill

Martin O'Neill

Internether

'A man who lives, not by what he loves, but by what he hates, is a sick man.' Archibald MacLeish.

In a room, alone
Blue screen flickers
Across a frown
A muttered imprecation
A spell of derision
Sent across the ether
Sealed with a tic
The shadows lengthen outside
While the darkness inside
Multiplies
Congeals on the screen
And grows black wings.
'Send.'

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Poem Edited: Thursday, December 1, 2011

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Comments about Internether by Martin O'Neill

  • Percy Dovetonsils (2/5/2012 3:53:00 PM)

    Nice one, Martin! Incisive and evocative. And thanks for you kind words re the literacy holocaust.

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  • Patti Masterman (4/20/2010 3:52:00 PM)

    You have the touch with words, my friend.

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  • Jacqui ThewlessJacqui Thewless (7/13/2009 7:58:00 PM)

    Bingo. I think it's your forte to articulate the edge.

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