Tag Archives: Jonathan O’Farrell

The Night is for many things but … Jonathan O’Farrell

Wonderful piece by Jonathan on Sudden Denouement:

“I would rather walk
my authentic steps into the night,
embracing obscurity,

than remain pliant fodder
for certainly lovely honey-traps
laid aforehand, by well-meaning pity.”

https://suddendenouement.com/2019/06/05/the-night-is-for-many-things-but-jonathan-ofarrell/

[Photo: Jonathan O’Farrell]

“I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

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Melt- Iulia Halatz read by Jonathan O’Farrell

Me reciting Iulia’s glorious poem!
Recital on SoundCloud

https://misterkaki.blog/2018/08/31/melt-iulia-halatz-read-by-jonathan-ofarrell/
Thank you, Jonathan!

I have shared
land and sky
with you.
I have tasted
blood and honey.
My witch-oil turned
to dragon-fire
at your touch…

Soft fingers laid asleep
until your turmoil
woke them
for so long…

It feels like getting drunk
on old reddish wine
long softened
during times of
War
Equanimity
and
Comets.
What shall I pour in your glass?
Molten flowers
Golden ink
Lucid light
Unicorn mirth…

I dig your veins
for gold.
I find pure
bitter-sweet
amber nuggets.

I fear any story
whose ink
my words
can’t drink…
Yet I drip in yours
ever since.

When your arms call
and your lips
read all my feral kisses
How can there be no heaven?

© Iulia Halatz

I am delighted that this poem was included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

The Execution of Leon d’Oro- Grippo- Jonathan O’Farrell

Storytelling takes new form in the powerful words of Jonathan O’Farrell:
https://suddendenouement.com/2018/09/14/the-execution-of-leon-doro-grippo-jonathan-ofarrell/

“Somehow, knowingly, he had saved
the last little remnant.
Somewhat dried six and a half month old toothpaste,
for the morning.
In waiting, the end of the tube,
or the end of his world,
he could not have, foretold…”