Seán O Muiríosa

Seán O Muiríosa Biography

If you would like to get in touch with Seán, he would be delighted to receive any correspondence through PoemHunter or you can email Seán at: seanomuiriosa@gmail.com

Seán O Muiríosa Comments

Daniel Tyler 29 January 2006

Hello Sean. I am very impressed by your owrk which takes the best of traditional and new forms and moulds them together very well. Vivid imagery is a really striking feature of your work. Good writing for 2006. Daniel

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Sofia P 21 December 2005

Hi Sean and thank you for your comments submitted on one of my works. I appreciate all feedback and it is even more important for me seeing how other poets understand my messages. I read your work as well and would like to extend my sincere admiration for your vivid language, your diverse scenery and a mature poetry level that could nicely be published too. You should look into that by the way! Congratulations on a good work.

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Amanda Lukas 04 November 2005

Sean, I think you have alot of talent. You've got a wonderfully descriptive nature. Glad you found your niche. Thank you for sharing with us and good luck! Amanda Lukas

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The Best Poem Of Seán O Muiríosa

A Journey To My Roots

The old house stood as sturdy as ever
even as the mangled jade ivy clung and grasped
as it had for decades, but she would never be killed.
It’s not in her make-up.

A strangely small garden shook me at first
until memory kicked in removing all those fears
with its usual record of rhetoric:
I had not been here now for close on ten years...

Inside a marbled, brown chocolate fireplace greeted us.
There was some catching up
over mugs a’ tae and sweet crumbly biscuits.
A cool chill snapped at my ankles suddenly

from the deep reaches of the old house.
But the warmth of almost a century of living
fizzled that out into irrelevance
like the summer sun on a murky morning fog.

And so then to the Graveyard and the old church of Raheen,
I looked down the rolling hills of Laois and
I saw my Nan’s childhood home
where I had just been.

The duskish green hills arced down and then back up
towards the graves, like the curve of a leprechaun shoe.
Farms dotted the core of those lovely Laois lowlands,
which I thought would go on forever.

Departing, I felt something wrench at me, something
from the depths of my silhouette.
This is partly where I’ve come from –
perhaps some answers at last?

I wanted to stay, to find out, but that’s time
doing what it does best, and as it took me home,
past dairy fields and barns and branches tatting windows,
I let it be, for some other wondrous day.

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