Seán O Muiríosa

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

Seán O Muiríosa Poems

41. Countless Hours 4/29/2006
42. Connemara Seas 11/28/2005
43. Saddest City Lane 1/9/2006
44. Wish 2/12/2006
45. Dedication 8/24/2005
46. Electrical Cocoon 3/26/2005
47. Grandad 9/23/2005
48. Country Essence - Haiku 4/24/2005
49. Among Tall Pine Trees 6/10/2005
50. Boulder 2/12/2006
51. A Coral Beach In Connemara 7/29/2005
52. Clearly 5/8/2006
53. A Golden End 1/26/2005
54. Cracks Of Night 3/30/2005
55. The Visiting Hours 4/10/2005
56. Opening Tunnel Vision 5/24/2005
57. Ode To Sylvia Plath 11/24/2005
58. A Journey To My Roots 4/10/2005

Comments about Seán O Muiríosa

  • Daniel Tyler (1/29/2006 9:09:00 AM)

    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 (12/21/2005 12:24:00 PM)

    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.

  • Amanda Lukas (11/4/2005 7:41:00 PM)

    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

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 ...

Read the full of A Journey To My Roots

Cracks Of Night

Staring through the dark of night
I can just about make out the ceiling, cracks and all.
It’s a battered fading plain of white like a rolled up piece of paper
Flattened back out again. It must have witnessed
Some disturbing truths to be so utterly glum.

I wonder if my slumber will antagonise the aching lines further
Only to come limping back to me like wounded soldiers?
I think of all those who must have laid here before me –

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