‘5 Poems’ by DS Maolalai


Aching blondes in dark green glasses.coffee

black as chocolate
and so strong
it straightens spoons.
I prefer
white wine to whiskey,
enjoy tea with sugar, biscuits
with butter
and marmalade spread. my hands
feel big in the morning
and curl unconsciously
like monkeys
in a beachside tree. I like sea
shells set on the windowsill
and paintings done in oil
so thick
that they’d crack
if you kick them.
I like girls
in sundresses;
chinese girls and aching blondes
in dark green glasses. I like dogs
because they don’t kill birds;
it’s simple. and I dislike cats
for the same reason
and don’t understand
why this
confuses people?
I like waking up without much to do
and walking around town
to look at things. hearing birds.
seeing things
that people miss
and talking to my friends in the late evening
before drink comes in
and catches us up. a cup of coffee
at night
to stay out with it alone,
listening to the radio and looking at the sky,
the way it goes from light to blue
to pure black with spots in,
like god
sitting back
with his legs crossed at the knee
sucking the suds from his soda
and smiling.


not having to worry
about rent
and instead
just about creation
and the blind ends
of the soul.
an explanation: I have managed
to snag myself a house –
for a while at least;
while someone is in hospital –
their getting sick
a boon
to feel guilty about.
but now I worry
without the waterstained apartment,
trapped rats
and balding pigeons
I feel that somehow,
having won a battle,
I have lost
the sense of anything to fight for.
where is
the texture – the words to say
beyond peace?
this big
beautiful house – birds in the garden
and cats
gripping the gutters –
what is this? grass
and cups of tea? am I to be held
in a life made of rooms,
wrapped with ivy
and no good adjectives?

Yellow dust on a bumble

taken from the index of Carl Sandburg’s Chicago
You came from the Aztecs.
You came along, tearing your shirt, yelling about Jesus.
You gave us the bumble bee who has a soul.
You have loved forty women, but you have only one thumb.
You have spoken the answer;
“You never came back.”
Your bow swept over a string, and a long low note quivered in the air,
your western heads here cast on money,
your white shoulders,
your whitelight
flashes in the frost tonight:
You will come one day
in a waver of love


cracks the night open
like the thick skin
of an orange.
outside londis
someone’s set a car to flames.
it goes
in yellow anger – it’s the seats,
oiled the seats or something;
they fire
with a cracking
red smell of merriment
and pour smoke out
thick as open honey.
I watch,
how long it will last.
it’s a side road
but still,
the scene
is already
drawing a crowd. the sides
and the bottom
are smoking now
and it looks
like the tires
are just about to go.
the people are quiet
all wishing they had marshmallows
or hot dogs,
faces in the flame
like hell
in an old woodcut.
it’s 11pm. the store
will shut soon. I go in
when the engine arrives
and the men
get setting up
their hoses.
I buy milk,
and a donut
and go back outside
to watch the rising

A feeling.

picked from the vine
and squeezed like tits,
in good sex.
and we are both
radios now.
flipped out the window
at a sign
of bad news.
and the sky rots
and drops us like shits.
is burning;
a 3 legged dog
rotting by the shopfront
while someone inside
goes in and fetches milk.

DS Maolalai is a poet from Ireland who has been writing and publishing poetry for almost 10 years. His first collection, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden, was published in 2016 by the Encircle Press, and he has a second collection forthcoming from Turas Press in 2019. He has been nominated for Best of the Web and twice for the Pushcart Prize.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s