I’ve never forgotten the Glen river’s  

smell on those wet Donegal days.

Its convoluted arteries drained

through bogs of purple heather,

to emerge in petrichor and painterly swirls.

Just boys, we traipsed its fern banks

on mizzled days with wet feet

squelching. Off balance, our eyelines

like gunsight, skimming black stones

in flat counts to the far bank.

Our...

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It was the copper-green crust on 

salt fingers that hinted

the well was dry.

It had been months, years even,

of arid unconscious blessings.

A ritual, like the quick of bitten nails,

formed in the dousing of us weans.

It had been our mother’s blessing, 

foreheads drenched on each departing. 

Her three fingered aspergillum

observed from the flickering neon.

Bles...

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I sway left, I sway right
Cradling you in my arms
Shushing like the waves
Wishing you goodnight.

I move left, I move right
Dodging your little hands
As we tickle and tumble
Play with no end in sight.

I teach left, I teach right
One day you’ll just get it.
Shoes, socks and gloves
Dad duties become light.

I’ll go left, you’ll go right.
You’ll text me you’re well
You’re on...

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Minutes run and hours pass

Just as sand in the hourglass.

What was black, now is gray.

Carpe diem, seize the day.

If you wait until tomorrow,

This will only bring much sorrow.

Do not forget to breathe fresh air

And escape the banal world's affairs.

Can you find what really matters?

If you do, your chains will shatter.

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I was born at twenty-one

Thrust out of the womb

Released into the newness of life

Born, at twenty one

Eyes opened to the world 

Crying, struggling, fighting

Trying to make sense of it all 

Yes, I was only born at twenty-one

Borne out of education

Borne out of society’s expectations

Borne out of comfort, out of the shield

Though I lived before

I was onl...

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This is about "living life to the max;" a smidgen of humour is required to get full enjoyment of this poem. Cheers!

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Live life to the max, it's a good way to be -
methinks the first mac I may have ever encountered
is a popular fellow to kiddies, called Old Macdonald
who had a rather lively and musical farm
now follows a yummy collection of food
from baked mac...

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The city is drenched in gold tonight

The sea is silver, like my temples

My hands feel older now than ever

But my mind and my grip is so much surer

Than back when I was younger;

I've run from love when it got tough

My hair was bleached in boiling light

I helped as many people as I could

Still, my thoughts were darkened in the wilderness

Felt alone in crowds of s...

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