Seán O Muiríosa Poems

I’ve tried to move on from this mess.
Accept me for me
But they return, the faces.
Like they need to be set free.
...

Don’t believe the rhetoric
The sea of soundbites
Honouring our ‘heroes’.
In this Celtic Tiger
...

My hand shakes and quivers a bit
At times of importance, times of joviality.
My face burns like the ring of a hob,
My hands slide like melting plastic.
...

The city’s sprawl enthrals my mind
A cloak or shawl of diamond light,
The jewels flickering, never-ending.
...

Straight lines,
Parallel tracks
Before me
East and West
...

I want to see a thaw, a drip, drip, drip on the morning leaves,
Rain writing on the window panes, a life-story of falling.
I want to see whiteness turn clear again
Until the road is a stretching liquid mirror,
...

The stream of cars stutter on second by second
Transferring to minutes. Accumulating
Along roads and junctions through towns
Where Christmas lights now glow – red, yellow and green
...

A place so alive in its own loneliness. Alive with
Big bleak rocks that stare awkwardly as suspended
Erratics alone on hills or as clusters in dead fields.
Or perhaps alive with the awe of countless sheep
...

Words, words that we feel,
they are omnipresent,
round and gripable
like a football perhaps
...

The ladder was located conveniently in the lane
As the neighbours had foreseen some work.
It then placed to our side wall, up and over,
Down onto the wheelie bins, an easy land.
...