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Róisín Ní Neachtain



the poet

Róisín Ní Neachtain is an autistic Irish-Scottish poet and artist now based in County Kildare, Ireland. Though mainly self-taught, she was briefly educated at NCAD and Trinity College Dublin, before studying for two years under Irish artist Gill Berry. Róisín is creator and editor of online literary and art journal Crow of Minerva, and has had her poetry featured in a number of digital publications. She's currently at work on her first collection.

the poems


00:00 / 01:12

            I held my dreams in my palms

            Though they were bleeding

            A soft tremor against my skin

            Some were shallow

            Some like a cave

            Some pricked my conscience

            Their threads tethered to my flesh

            And I chewed their weights to set them free

            My teeth wore down

            I fell in a haze through our memories

            When a hollow sound echoed in my mouth

            And fell past my lips

            You bit my tongue and hummed

            The ebb of nameless laughter

            A cadence of sorrows

            Spinning a steep melody

            Now I am unfearful of pain

            A slow praise of closeness

            Breathing blue

            In midnight songs

            Tightening my pulse

            Fingers twisting in a frenzied dance

            To unworded lyrics

            My last need stilled

Remembering Without Believing

00:00 / 01:21

            Remembering without believing

            The stars appeasing

            Against their obsidian abyss

            Heat and light unseamed from dust

            Remembering without believing

            Questions pressed in psychosis

            And promises which feel no shame

            Illegible hypergraphic promises

            Of love and empty rooms and symbiotic existence

            And undivided sounds and realities

            And reproached pain and laughter

            And dissonant dreams

            Which lead to my repossession

            A petty heresy of Silence

            Look at this earth embedded beneath our nails

            Our language measured by prayers

            And lumen a measure of their glare

            Look at this skin scored by hate

            Their unfamiliar eye

            Rooted in fear

            All truths unchanged in time

The Edge of Reason

00:00 / 01:22

            A room

            Like a trite cage

            Between these four walls

            Where prodigal sons and daughters return

            And are rejoiced and bound once more

            A spiel read like a dead poet

            A bastard pain

            The object of such a conclusion

            Perhaps an accidental gale?

            Swept and tendering our bones

            Archaic songs of sorrow

            That lull us in their readiness

            Black on white

            Black on black

            White on white

            Letters made barely visible

            And nonsensical

            A few steps closer to the edge of reason

            A past and future arrested in a photograph

            What will happen if we awake again

            To see these passings going beyond that edge?

            To the beginnings of someplace?

            Someplace more of a sedentary mind

            A hollowed space in each Man’s chest

Publishing credits

All poems: exclusive first publication by iamb


S h a r e

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