DORIAN J. SINNOTT - POEMS

Dorian J. Sinnott is a graduate of Emerson College's Writing, Literature, and Publishing program, currently living in historic Kingston, NY with his two cats. When he's not writing, he enjoys English horseback riding, playing violin, and traveling to comic cons up and down the east coast. He is the social media editor for Coffin Bell Journal. Dorian's work has appeared in numerous magazines and journals, including: Crab Fat Literary Magazine, The Hungry Chimera, and Riggwelter.  

​Moonbeams

You’re made of moonlight;
a celestial radiance that comes to me
in dreams where your beams
illuminate the dark corridors of my heart.


I once bathed in the soft glow,
watching meteors and stardust
erupt in your eyes;
galaxies return.


I want to sit on the brim of hourglasses,
watching the sand rain down in endless turntables,
flipping over and over--
lost in infinity.


Lost in the moonbeams
the moonlight
the radiance your spirit sings;
soft white specter adrift on a sea of stars.


But by daylight…
I mourn the darkness and fragility;
your face lost in the cosmos
of my mind—and the night sky.

I greet the Sun and
he tells me of his love:


the great and gentle Moon.
His beams—though harsh--
make me at peace
when I tell him of you.


And I weep at the thought
of being lightyears away--
lost and interstellar
amongst the blackness;
waiting…


Waiting for twilight’s curtain
to fall on the stage of Earth;
for your crest to break the horizon--
igniting the skies in encore.


And the Sun told me
how he longed for his Moon;
how he would pray a million dead stars
for her to light up the night.


And I smiled--
and I said:


“But the Sun and Moon coexist
in the changing hues of sky.
In the day he shines
and drowns her heart out;


but every morning--


she can be seen nearby.


The Sun only sets
to give life to his Moon--
when all the Earth has gone still.
He gives up his light
and his pride
so her beams kindle, tranquil.”


And the Sun
with silent rays
felt a little warmer
while standing in his glow.


“And that’s why sunrise and sunset
are all the more beautiful,
breathtaking,
and sweet.
For in their banners
of radiant color across the heavens;
it’s where day and night--
where lovers--
meet.”


But still,
we wait for the Moon.

​

​White Memory

​My world dissolves into autumn,
a desolate land of fire and shadow
gnawing at my throat.

In a white memory,
I meet you on the path;
your smile like a dagger,
you hair shining like fall.
 
But what is truth?
You misty apparition.
The cold in your eyes
brings forth early winter.
 
I embrace the fog;
letting dewdrops paint my lips
with the decay of harvest.
 
 
 

​Star-Crossed

​ 
I was asked once (not so long ago)…
How did I know you were the one?
I said,
“because it’s the feeling you get;
when your eyes lock with the pair they’ve been searching for…
they just know.
It’s like gazing into oblivion--
into distant memory
and time
and space.
Like spotting the one from lifetimes ago…

The one you held hands with
on the crest of hourglasses long since run out.
Like breathing in the entirety of the galaxy--
choking on stardust.
Watching stars explode in the vastness of their eyes…

Where constellations served as maps
to guide you there;
to bring you home.
It’s like standing there.
as if everything inside you collapsed for a moment…
Plunged itself deep into the dark depths of the sea.
And you just look at them and say,
‘There you are.
I’ve been waiting looking for you…’

You don’t even question it.
The universe lets you know.”