Sibylline by Eoghan Lyng

Eoghan Lyng, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

Salman says “mercy is the key,

considered as we are in the fun

filled folly of polemity”.


Solemnly, I answered his call

And all I found were the warring,

Tolling shades of the pastoral bells.


Through hell I waved, a man

made flag gave the empire’s

pleasantries of insidious severance.


Masking the honesty, where were we,

in this civilised waged battle

after the fact?


Cooler the colours changed through

the book that I read that said an ending

I felt close to the nail.


She kissed me indomitably

holding the feelings fearfully

fighting the Dublin paged rain.


Liturgically lit literary

paging passive puisantly

changing conditions contracted.


Sibylline streets, as lovers meet

closing the books that they read.

Eoghan Lyng