Biography of Naoimh Spence
I'm 21, rather mellow and lazy, a stargazer, a dreamer and a part-time philosopher. I've had a few mental health problems in my life so far, and they spanned a good few years, so naturally a lot of my poetry tells those stories. The rest of it... well, you will see for yourself.
The mundane day-to-day things in life are all inspiring in their own way, so I've done my best to portray what I see and feel as I go through life from day to day.
Naoimh Spence's Works:
I've been writing poetry for about as long as I've been able to hold a pen. Some of my poetry and stories has been published in books and magazines, none of which are terribly important. Some day I hope I'll have my own book out though!
Naoimh Spence Poems
Love Transcends Death
I said to my love 'Do you ever get to rest? ' 'No' said he. 'I spend my life at your side.
Starting with old and new; Strip everything apart. Away, my love, away,
Gone are the days when I freely spoke my mind; I haven't written from the heart in a long time. I turned from my feelings, fearing what I'd find If I dared to admit it; to love her is a crime,
The sweet scent of a distant rose, Clouds above in the summer sky, Out in the fields where a warm wind blows.
Dreaming And Waking
Forsaking all my thoughts to sleep and the stars While my heart circles in skies not seen before. I linger, as a bird, in twilight, for all the dark hours Spent escaping a dreamless sleep, the hateful roar
I hear it all, The inner city song. The droning dirge of decay;
A sigh escapes her lips As she watches the world from dark eyes, All the while hating the silence.
After so many long lonely months, My dear friends were returned to me. My solace, my companions, My dearest stars in my night sky...
Passage Of Time
That was the past This is now This is the future
Empathy It's an odd thing. There are kind strangers with
Clouds In October
These days grow dark Though palled not as before; Awake, awake and fly, Fly to the sacred place
White wings ripple the surface Of a lake overgrown with brambles. Stars twirl overhead, regal dancers In the moon's warm spotlight-
It's an odd thing.
There are kind strangers with
faces you don't recognise
But you can't mistake a good deed
when you see one
I guess I'm not crazy after all.