Margaret O Driscoll
Margaret O Driscoll Poems
Awed by its architecture
I step inside
Gigantic Gothic arches
rise on either side
...
Seeing a loved one dear to you
lying in their final bed
Is an image that stays with you
long after funeral prayers are said
...
Manicured ornate show gardens
To attract visitors, the goal
Flower beds neat and fancy
But the wild calls my soul
...
The sands of time eroded that
broad smile from your face
but of that carefree, ebullient character
I still can see some trace
...
Climbing to the fort in humidity,
at the end of the lane I stop
Pin cushions of Devil's Bit Scabious
Amid flowering spreading Stonecrop
...
It felt strange going back there
I'd almost forgotten the way
Suddenly it came back to me
at the turn off down to the bay
...
Velvet reed mace by the lakeside
Swans glide on the mirror serene
Buttercups gold among grasses
In heat haze a calming scene
...
I took a trip down memory lane
along the byways last September
Pointing out familiar places
and events I well remember
...
The miscellany of the murmuration can be heard by all around
Then the starlings swoop down, strutting swiftly
Yellow beaks probing in the ground
...
A hot Summer's day
market stalls everywhere
Smoke rises from the barbeque,
customers queue in the square
...
Primroses grow by the old stone steps that lead on to a secluded rock
In that quiet glen in Penal Times
a priest prayed there with his flock
...
A line of cabs by Heuston
I hail the first one in line
The taxi driver seems pleasant,
'Going to the RDS, that's fine'
...
A bird hide fashioned in willow
with a high wooden bench to sit on
A long discreet viewing slit -
a moorhen appears, then it's gone
...
A regular task
Almost elbow-deep in suds
Steam rising from the tub
A bar of Sunlight soap
...
He took the scythe from the shed
on a warm Summer's day
Carried it over his shoulder
to the meadow, to cut hay
...
A blue tit busily peering
at the wing mirror of the car,
seemed to me to be thinking
'This rival mate won't get far'
...
Hemmed in all Winter behind four walls
On the first fine day the beach calls
By a deep channel flowing into the sea
I follow the tide mark, checking debris
...
Setting off in the cool of morning,
a mist veiling the bay
A holy well at the base
Stations of The Cross mark the way
...
The public library, books galore
stacked on shelves, ceiling to floor
Books for adults, romance and travel,
books with crimes to unravel
...
The old museum, cramped and small
Crammed with artifacts wall to wall
Photos of planters houses on display, symbols of subjugation of another day
...
Margaret O Driscoll Biography
Margaret is a very busy mother of seven and grandmother of eleven.She is a poetry writer, curator and editor who lives in Co' Cork, Ireland. She likes to write poems about nature and about funny incidents but also writes about serious issues which affect many people. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and magazines, one is reproduced by Hodder Education UK for a GCSE English Literature publication. Her poems have been translated into Polish, Bulgarian, Finnish, Persian, Punjabi, Ukrainian, Russian, Irish and Serbian. She self published her first collection of poetry in 2016, 'The Best Things In Life Are Free', it has received many rave reviews and it's available to buy online at Lettertec Books. One of her poems 'In The Forest' is reproduced in the current journal of the Society of Classical Poets. Her calendar poem for children, 'Children's Nature Guide' is published in an international children's poetry book, 'Let's Play Together'. She's a Social Care Worker and likes walking, singing, dancing, and reading, to unwind. She loves to spend time with her grandchildren exploring, gardening, watching films and cooking.)
The Best Poem Of Margaret O Driscoll
A Poem In Stone
Awed by its architecture
I step inside
Gigantic Gothic arches
rise on either side
Atop red marble columns
along each side of the aisle
A colossal feat of construction
created in Pugin's style
Splendid stained glass windows
Depicting saints of glory
Sun's rays shine through the hues
Each panel tells a story
Jesus and his apostles in white marble
The Last Supper around the table
Priceless treasures by master craftsmen
Gifted, artistic, diligent, able
I pray for my family and I
As I stand there alone
In that graceful peaceful sanctuary
A poem in stone
Margaret O Driscoll Comments
Your poetic talent express throgh your poems. I really congratulate you.excellent!
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10/7/2026 1:03:33 AM # rel_20260925T122446Z_7d6ee41
Love the bio a real woman I bow