Seán O Muiríosa

Rookie - -6 Points (A Thursday,1987 / Tiobraid Arann)

Stuck At A Station - Poem by Seán O Muiríosa

Winter has arrived, we’re in the depths of November
And yet the lines won't come as they should in this frost,
This frost I love, the frost that painted me a thousand words
Last winter – sparkling fields, shimmering leaves,
Everything gleaming, all white and true.
They were new.
New poetry, that’s what it was.

But the frost has moved from roads and trees
To my hand, my brain.
We are the train that’s broken down at the station.
We’re happy to be at this station.
It’s become familiar, so safe.
But the passengers, the passengers –
How outlandish they’ve become!
With their quirky demands,
Seeking to get to new lands.
The driver’s not a happy man.

Snow is beginning to fall outside.
It’s not good news.
The track ahead is hazardous.
Worse still, the driver seems a bit
Lethargic.
How hard can it be?
Incredibly, in the snugness of security.

Winter has arrived with a perishing grip.
A poet, I am not.


Comments about Stuck At A Station by Seán O Muiríosa

  • (12/6/2005 3:57:00 PM)


    Gorgeous poem.
    you are a very talented poet.
    I love your imagery.
    I feel as though i've stepped in with you on that november day.
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  • (11/24/2005 3:54:00 PM)


    wow Sean... excellent work! I especially liked the first part..
    'Last winter – sparkling fields, shimmering leaves,
    Everything gleaming, all white and true.
    They were new.
    New poetry, that’s what it was.'
    well done!
    HBH
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, November 24, 2005

Poem Edited: Thursday, November 24, 2005


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