Daniel Roy Connelly

 


Des bons mots

All things considered takes ages.
If you could have it all would you leave it where it is?
The path of righteousness leads to the corridor of uncertainty.
Absence makes the heart look elsewhere.
A problem shared is a problem still.
Do things by the book or they’ll throw it at you.
Can you get it in the neck while taking it on the chin,
have an ear to the ground when being walked all over?
When all’s said and done there’ll be nothing left to do or say.
At the end of the day, it’s night.

 

Daniel Roy Connelly won the 2014 Fermoy International Poetry Festival Prize, was a finalist in the 2015 Aesthetica Magazine Creative Writing Competition and was the winner of the 2015 Cuirt New Writing Prize for Poetry. He lives in Rome.

 

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Songstress on Primetime Italian TV

 

Songstress what songstress

I see svelte teenage girls

in bikinis gyrating

while men watch

& women clap hands

in time to the band who

are all men

no they’re definitely lip-synching

in fact not even

 

damn                                    adverts

 

next up there are svelte teenage girls

in bikinis suspended

from meat hooks

while men in butchers’ hats

slap price tags on their arses

well not really from meat hooks but

you certainly get an idea of something

 

 

 

Daniel Roy Connelly was born in England but has spent much of his adult life being educated in Italy, India, Bangladesh, The USA and Scotland. Formerly a British diplomat, he has been an academic since 1999. He is currently an assistant professor of English Literature and Theatre at John Cabot University and The American University of Rome.

 

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Daniel Roy Connelly

 

 

 

Claire, the flat-packed cat

Your crumbs have been under the highchair a fortnight now.
You were still so new to me.
You used to practice each and every burgeoning word,
clumsily cutting up syllables, thinning them out
as you bore down on your most recent find.
I want to hear you.

I can smell you on the fibres of Claire, the IKEA cat;
the flat-packed cat, your Mama and Diddy called her,
laughing at how hard it all was.
She I cradle at sleepy time,
kissing her matted head,
I am parched and angry and I ache
to feel your weight on my left arm.
You could cut off the blood in minutes.

Sometimes I hold her tight to my chest.
Perhaps in the afternoons, when I am tired and tense,
I smooth her face against my blood-shot cheeks.
We move in no less a general way than
would any toy cat and man dancing.

That’s when I feel your weight
on my skin,
like a package new delivered
as the Valium kicks in,
as I sway you slowly
to our song or maybe songs.

 

 

 

Daniel Roy Connelly was born in England but has spent much of his adult life being educated in Italy, India, Bangladesh, The USA and Scotland. Formerly a British diplomat, he has been an academic since 1999. He is currently an assistant professor of English Literature and Theatre at John Cabot University and The American University of Rome.

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