We swam out to
The lake's center,
Just to get away
From the rest,

We swam out to
Our little handmade
Island, floating still
Like a dead whale,

We feel into a siesta,
and woke up
Sun-burnt
And glad.

- Jamie F. Nugent

These nights are so sleepless,
When you're in such deep bliss,

Sometimes love feels so loveless,
When we're so turtledoveless,

These kisses are so painless,
It almost feels aimless,

These fingers of mine,
Right down your spine,

Under trees,
Under a star,
Hidden beneath,
Those rain-clouds of ours.

But I still let out some sighs,
Long after goodbyes,

The sooner I'm gone -
Sooner you can get on,

Forget all about me, dear,
Like a ghost that was never here,

We might fall in love someday,
But for now, we're strangers come Monday.

He perched on the edge of the bed,
a study in confusion and misery.
He landed badly, and crawled away.
Then rose and got dressed.
He had slept the sleep of the innocent
and he drowsed away the morning -
He strolled to the window to drink in the view.
Swallowing his first coffee cup's worth
and smoking his last cigarette fondly,
he had a gone feeling when in wonder,
How long has it been since
she left the house, the room, the bed?
He had ought to turned her away
but was always too soft-hearted.
He still told himself that
this would be the last time.

-Jamie F. Nugent

in this
mornings's
corridor,
there were
no smiles,
no frowns,
just lips -
in sorrowful
straight lines,

all of us,
the same
thoughts,
the same
feeling,
all of our
numb minds
put into a
rosewood
box.

- Jamie F. Nugent

The South African sun caused my
Eleven year old eyes to squint.
Sat in the stadium, my father and I,
Sweated and watched rugby;
A father - daughter tradition.
That Saturday afternoon was the final,
The stands were crowded and full,
Like a fish-tank ready to burst
At any moment.
In front of my father and I,
There sat a dark-haired woman
In a lose fitting jersey.
About forty minutes in,
She bent down, sudden and quick,
Her head, hitting her kneecaps,
She screamed her intense screams;
Muffled in her own bent body,
Some spectators thought her crazy,
She continued her whails, and soon
A small crowd grew in front of us,
One man pulled her straight in her seat,
Her hands, her face, her her legs and stomach
Were all drenched red with blood.
No one ever heard the gunshot;
They traced it back to its origin,
Two hundred meters away,
Fired from a building by the stadium.
The bullet just happened to land where it did,
And the game went on.


- Jamie F. Nugent

He was a Beatle and she was a Stone,
She was a Pistol and he was a Ramone.