New Year, Old Year

NEW POEM, NEW YEAR (December 31, 2014) New Year, Old year fond farewell, hopeful greeting, in believing, life is a balance sheet, of noughts and plusses, gain by grains lose by pulses, profit in the loss of others, their hard luck is yours to prosper. Pathetic then that those you plunder are the only ones’…Read more New Year, Old Year

Blast the Past©

Y'know that moment, when someone who broke your heart, swings into view , whether by accident or design and you're left drained and speechless? She looked in through the saloon window A blast from the past Her shame or his blame No honesty No trust Return to remind Twist the knife Salt the wound Where…Read more Blast the Past©

Take me to the River©

For the past twelve months, the people of Ireland have opposed the efforts of the Irish Government to introduce metered water charges that amount to an extra or double tax (for something they pay for, already). They've opposed the installation of meters in their own communities and on their own doorsteps, often with violent results…Read more Take me to the River©

City of Thoughts In my mind the world is a City of Thoughts where I can wander undisturbed, window shop in a world of words, sightsee cityscapes of thoughtful wonder, feast in restaurants of Epicurian splendour and drink in bars with bottomless glasses, wine that is the nectar of Creation But no- one talks no-one listens nobody…Read more City of Thoughts

Social fretworking

  I posted a thought, it flew away through dark, cavernous cyberways, to bump and grind with other lonesome thoughts, in the hotbeds of social fretworks and worried then, where it might go, unguided, misunderstood, to liaise, frolic and fret, argue, debate, opinionate in a world of posts, untethered, away from me gone, awaiting its…Read more Social fretworking

Poem for Christmas© by Dermott Hayes

  I wandered, lonely, in a crowd, Amid bells of Christmas cheer, the hurried glug of festive beer. Suburban commuters hustling home, minds crammed with lists and bills, beggars’ eyes, homeless spirits, freezing, pleading, ‘see me'. A touch, a bump, a smile, a ‘sorry’, carol singers deck the halls with holly. In this breakneck world…Read more Poem for Christmas© by Dermott Hayes

History Lesson©

My father, Martin Hayes or Michael M. O'hAodha, as he signed himself, died on December 14, 2015. He was a traditional Republican, of  older west of Ireland farming stock, classically educated, who could roll to bed with a Latin phrase and rise, with a verse of Greek, gave much of his life, willingly, in the…Read more History Lesson©

TITO’S DEAD but I’m alive

This is the history of a book Three years ago, October 2011, I posted the eighth chapter of Tito's Dead  a novel I began writing in 2004, finished in 2005 and put aside then, for the best part of six years, in Splinter4All, a writers' website to which I contribute. Then, following occasionally haranguing encouragement…Read more TITO’S DEAD but I’m alive