VoicesNet.com Recent Poems of Brian O'Neill - Copyright for all poems displayed belong to author

The Woman Who Would Not Give Up by Brian O'Neill

9/4/2009

It's a boy
A boy
It's a boy
It's a boy
Can you believe it?
Its a boy
A boy
The second is coming
Not long
You might get another(boy I presumed)
A boy
A boy
Another boy
A boy
No two boys
Can you belive it?
Two boys
Thirteen years of trying
yearning
waiting
hoping
praying
treatments
disappointments
feelings of failure
frustration
anger
hope
were now lying
naked twin new born
boy
no-two boys
suckling
the woman
who would not
give up

Wet Summer by Brian O'Neill

9/4/2009

Distant birds
dive against the tumult
Ominous clouds drift low and quick
One shower leads to
another shower
morning noon and night
The heaviness is
reflected
in conversation
bloody rain
never stops
I've never seen the like of it
morning noon and night
Talk is dominated
by the weather
The relentless pounding
lays heavy on hearts
and minds and
we miss the warmth
on our backs
on our faces
We long to wake and see
dry pavements
but the
ominous clouds
drift slowly today
heavy with rain

29 and 2 by Brian O'Neill

9/24/2007

The sun shone brightly on the fifteenth
No hint of malice
As we played and laughed and lived
Before the guts ripped from our town

An eardrum bursting blast
Changed Omagh forever
Initial surreal silence followed
By an enveloping smog of grey debris dust

The dogs in the streets were silenced
As their masters succumbed to the piercing heat of madness
Bodies everywhere, clothes blasted from limbs and torsos
The smell of blood and fear in the air

A ruputured water main
Added to the carnage
Released from its' protective walls
To wash bodies and bits of bodies
down the crumbling street

22 wiped out without a warning
Seven more to follow
2 who would never know what it was like
To live or love in this world
Leaving behind a multitude of wounded survivor/victims

Crowds flocked to meet the blood
Flowing through the hospital corridors
Pandemonium and pride drove us on
To help where we could or empathasise where hope had gone

A beautiful bride to be stretched on a hospital bed
Her hippy style clothes stained purple
As the blood seeped from her body
Her clothes scissored off hurriedly to reveal her injuries

Her dignity and intimate secrets
Reserved for her lover and matrimonial bed
Laid bare with the scars of atrocity
Embedded in her firm young body
Wire, masonry, wood and steel

She would hobble for evermore
A sliver of cold steel dissecting her hip
Before slicing the sciatic nerve
Wed with crutches I believe

When the damage limitation was over
We drank beer quickly
Life would go on
Life not as it was before
Life changed forever
But no life
For 29 and 2

Sensitive Cynic by Brian O'Neill

9/22/2009

Cynicism matures with age
running parrallel
with increasing sensitivity
which produces a heady cocktail
of tears and spiteful gossip
Maybe just maybe (cynicism)
It's easier to blame systems
than to introspect (sensitivity)
Collectively I despise no
almost despise them all
Schools governments police
authority banks managers
Officialdom and officianodoes
I disrespect and mistrust them
Truth is in the family
and the awful truth lies with self
Chapel church and catholicism
Something prevents me
from rejection
What I have learned
or what I need to learn
developed a state of ambivalence
that produces
Tears at funerals
Respect for others
and a disjointed belief
that there must be more than
I can comprehend

Dying by Brian O'Neill

9/19/2007

When I die
I want to live
When I Live
I don't want to die

When I'm dead
I hope I had lived
When I lived
I wanted to stop thinking
ABOUT DYING

The New Sunday by Brian O'Neill

9/17/2007

It used to be quite simple
Arise,wash, eat breakfast
Walk the mile or so
Then pray, holy communion, Amen
And walk the mile or so back home

Now there is no focus
Lie late? Go for a drive?
Masses ramble to the pub
Football and pints before the stagger home
How would you like your dinner?
Oven shrunk or carry out

Family dinner-roast,yorkshires, mash and gravy
Long forgotten in a convenience rush
Prayer reserved for a crisis
A relentless slide towards anonymity
Enveloped by the culpability of the vacant crowd

Monday morning
"Do anything nice at the weekend"
"Nothing really, watched the football"
"What was the score"
"I cant remember-Great craic though"
"No other news"
"No-alls quiet"
"See you then"
"Bye"
"Bye"

An Awful Curse by Brian O'Neill

9/17/2007

Ignorance is an awful curse
In the land of saints and scholars
Educated fools hate nothing worse
Than idiots,dunces and dullards

There is a distinct pain of not knowing
The difference between a bee or wasp
Or the particulars of physiology or growing
A damdable failure to comprehend or grasp

Wilde and Yeats we may have grown
England and America we may have built
But I for one am not well known
Ooh the pain of uneducated guilt

Grammar not glamour by Brian O'Neill

9/17/2007

I went to a grammar school
Grammar not glamour
We learnt through fear
They feared us
We feared them

A punch, slap or sharp hair pull
Was intended as a reminder
Its us versus you
And we're going to win
This bloody war of attrition

A brother's swirling robe
Was enough to instil panic
Play havoc with a bladder
Instil peristaltic action in the bowel

Odd how some became educated in this prison
The inference was always about
Money and standing would help
Mercy for the sons of doctors,solicitors and teachers
Go easy on those who may have a calling

To hell and beyond with the others
Hit them hard and hit them often
Teach them manners
Who cares -they are nothing
Only the scruff and oafs from Dodge City

Neighbour (Size of a melon) by Brian O'Neill

9/13/2007

Size of a melon!
No one would have guessed, perhaps
Size of a melon
Not a large juicy fruit
But an invading destructive mass

Peter may have seen
From the brown framed Georgian windows
The signs-He seen it all before
Tiredness, stooping low over her beloved plants
Sitting more, looking at the birds

Who would have guessed?
An artist-a family's legacy
I saw some work one dark,January night-At Jim's wake
Brother and sister following the same path-pitying each other
We would look at her work soon with questions
She lived amongst us but we did not know her

Her face never told the story
A few quiet tears for others
Concern for her longhaired son
And ageing, smoking lover
Amid the quiet hiss of the gleaming white oxygenator

Went quietly in the night
Graceful to the end
A dignified lady said the young priest
As crumpled hankies were pulled from deep pockets
Strangely quiet and detached they carried her down

Buried beneath the trees
The rain blew in upon our thoughts
Umbrellas raised but not much use
Tears. Hugs. A cold graveyard everyone said
Damdable place I used to think-but no one would have guessed

Daisy from Dromore by Brian O'Neill

9/13/2007

Man's best friend
Large brown eyes
Soft floppy ears
Keen sense of scent
A white tipped tail
Tricolour of colours
Black, brown and white
Placid and timid
Adoring and adored

Begging food and attention
Whining and ignoring
Reluctant to recall
Pulls strongly on a lead
Tracking manicured gardens
Stealing gardening gloves
Stalking eye movements
Man's best friend
Daisy from Dromore

The absolute truth by Brian O'Neill

9/13/2007

He was'nt interested in the absolute truth
He was interested in my truth
The practicalities were simple enough
A tree of family members assembled
On a page, names highlighted with ages

Granny,Granda, Mum and Dad
Brothers, sisters including the buried one
Nephews, nieces and their children too
Then the work began
Discussion with subtle questions
There seemed to be two categories
Allrights or ballocks'
Fitted into acceptability or likened to a man's genitals

Truths and perceptions laid out on a wind chime
Interconnecting channels.Invisible bonds
Rock the boat and we are all rocking not rolling
The learning was discreet but tangible
Is neuroticism a normal concept?
Something for us all to suffer and savour
Self-discovery through the discovery of our being

Prior to the self-analysis and healing journey
I had sat on a hot summer night and laughed
Laughed until my belly hurt
Shared stories with my family
Brothers, sisters, Mum and our Australian brother
It felt good to be connected
part of something useful,valuable and good
I long for the memories and the reality of it to linger
To envelop myself in the warmth of its'truth

Knowledge by Brian O'Neill

9/13/2007

When we met
I knew the future
I knew the past
I knew what I was
I knew what I was not

I walked to the dance floor
I knew it was a beginning
I knew it had no end
I knew it was you

Talk flowed easily
I knew love
I'd known hate
I knew the past
I know the future

Work Course Verona Italy 2003 by Brian O'Neill

8/5/2010

FIRST DAY

Marbelled floors
Cool
After my introduction
The Chinese or Japanese New Yorker
said
I can't understand a word he said
The real Yanks liked it though
but then they would
The Irish are special there
despite their thick brogues
The motherly one
particulary liked the oul saying
..our neck of the woods
The Scotch lady smiled at me
Celts always stick together
like glue
The Greeks looked on
philosophically-like Greeks
I was enthusiastic then
and able to hold my own
with anyone
even Japanese or Chinese New Yorkers

TRIPS ACCOMPANIED

The Greeks
The good old Greeks
Really took to me
I loved being with them
particularly the old professor
She knew everything
and she liked sport
Now I like that combination in a male
but hell in a female-great
Venice-of course she knew the
history
geography
the best tapas bars
I dont think I will ever learn more in two hours
Then she and her younger colleagues
were sweet enough to remember my likes
and ordered Valpolicella Classico with dinner
On another warm night
there was the poor old horse
not to mention the donkey
Star the American-yes Star
couldn't believe I ordered it
never mind ate it
She preferred cow
but she did try her best to get me a seat
on the packed train later
The trip to the Zucchini bar
was great
I loved the old Italian bloke
venting his spleen-shouting and gesticulating
It was theatre and I laughed as
the facade of cruel jibes rained down on
the sweating waiters

TRIPS ALONE

Verona-I explored alone
I like my own company
I can be myself
The streets were red like wine
and the chic shops cool
Do Italians sweat?
I did profusely
but they always appeared cool and beautiful
The women walked tall and purposefully
The men surrounded by a bubble of confidence
In their sunglasses
However I cant see those pink or yellow
shorts and shirts taking off
in the bogs in Ireland
Apparently Aida was in the amphitheatre that night
I didn't go
I like real life theatre
-like long walks through the piazzas in Verona

FISH AND VIOLENCE

On the way to a restaurant with the group
we stopped
at a scenic river with pond
Fish-huge fish
swam in the pond
like memories
occosionally they rippled the still water as
a reminder
On the streets
there was no violence
no vomit
no litter
no thuggish behaviour
I felt safe
as a baby
and I wished it
was always that way

VENICE AGAIN

I couldn't stop
without Venice in mind
Saint Mark's Square
viewed from the bell tower
on that hot day
I sweated in this marvellous city
as the local children
acted out life
running through fans of water
squealing in delight

COURSE

Yes the course-
now what did I learn
on that course?

A ROOM by Brian O'Neill

8/5/2010

Dream bed
Clever head
She said
I love you

Tasseled light
Day-night
Inspired write
I Love
You

Completion by Brian O'Neill

8/5/2009

In the late 40s
a teenage girl
got pregnant
She was afraid
Ireland in those days
perhaps even now
frowned on such things
It was not allowed
and her
a good catholic girl
What would the neighbours say
Her mum and Dad
kind in their way
but swayed by convention
had the child 'adopted'
by the girl's older aunt and uncle
in Scotland
Out of the way
The boy grew up
a loving child
loyal to his parents
and the Mum's life moved on
to
adulthood
marriage
kids
emigration to Australia
but she yearned
and she longed
and her heart was incomplete
Sixty two years later
in 2009
a meeting took place
An incomplete woman
completed herself
and
in
the long hours of conversation
they became one
again

She Leaves by Brian O'Neill

8/5/2008

Soon
she leaves
Life moves on
Cycles changing
Adventures await
Diverse situations
No dress rehearsal needed
We want only the best for her
She awaits in anticipation
Soon she leaves, life moves on, cycles changing

PAIN IN MY CHEST by Brian O'Neill

8/3/2007

"An awful pain in my chest all night long"
The last words he would speak to me from his crumpled bed.
Ring the bloody health centre!What about the ambulance?
Irish logic-don't bother the doctor.
It's probably nothing.Wait until it kills you.
Concern but not looking to eternity yet.
Cover my morning nakedness.
Pull on my pants.No time to waste.
One leg in before he fell with a sickening thud.
Sterterrous breathing, loud, seeking oxygen.
To inhale life's last air into his gasping lungs.
Death clasped him like the tightening belt of pain in his chest.
Bang! My fist hit him hard mid-chest.
Glory to all glories, he breathes again, life exists.
Only for the belt to be pulled tight again and buckled eternally

A gutteral cry of anguish interrupts Mother's whispered Act of Contrition.
Thirty years of scrimping and sharing embodied by this final gift of love
Vain roars of protestation."The doctors are all bastards"
He blackened quickly from the nape of the neck.
"Huge coronary" stated the embarrased ambulance driver.
5 foot ten of my father, still warm but gone.
Mother and sons hugged,they do not know what else to do.
A younger daughter stares vacantly out the front window.
Alone with her thoughts, not included in the huddle.
We thought he was invincible.
He was but not his heart.
We had laughed at his prophetic words in the smoky living room.
Their jovial row last night,
"Throw the packet in the fire Rosaleen, I'm giving up smoking tomorrow"

Shame by Brian O'Neill

8/26/2008

It seemed simple enough to me
but therein lies the crux
I was not part of the secret
I was not part of the lies
I don't know the difference
between
the truths, the lies and the half truths
The shattered boundaries are merged
in a fusion of guilt, pleasure and pain
Make the bugger pay!
Real truth is pulled over their eyes
like dark velour curtains
draped heavily on a cold winter's night
They still pay the price
Meagre offerings add to their
silence, suffering and shame

A TRIBUTE TO ALLINGHAM by Brian O'Neill

8/20/2007

Starlings fight over seed
Territorial Robin passes no heed

Dogs play on the green
Cats-somewhere but rarely seen
Now I comprehend what all mean

Simple things! That inspire
White deep snow and a glowing fire

AMBIVALENCE by Brian O'Neill

8/20/2007

It started with my rearin
Catholic in the extreme
A state of confusion
I'm not what I seem

A middle-aged man
Thinking like a child
Smooth like a sea pebble
But jagged and wild

Hold on to your faith
Or avoid and deny
The decision is ours
Fight, freeze or fly

The years pass too quickly
Generations appear
It has'nt resolved
Apprehension often fear

The solution had passed me
Sitting on the fence
The doctor says depression
No!! AMBIVALENCE, AMBIVALENCE