Category Archives: Poetry & Short Stories

Every which way

Doubt

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I have been here before –

falling somewhere between desperation and reason.

I have even tried to justify my every step:

“no need, unless you know you’re wrong”

and so, yes, the voice doth preach,

and the ears will recoil,

for I am not about to listen.

Remember this –

I’ll only learn in this state

If it’s not guilt or some other fanciful delight you speak of.

I am the product of other people’s tyrannies.

I have, for too long, stood in the shadow of other people’s choices –

I am suffused to doubt

and bolstered up to clarify

that ne’er again will there be

that ne’er again for me, at least,

No surrender –

No surrender –

at least as long as I can see the boundaries.

The risk then less

I shall bravado fly

till truth be told.

I’ll fear again

The honest murmurings

of doubt

and place the ‘tough guy’ in the box –

the redundant hologram

it’s what I am

or would be

If I had to be

but I’ve invested too much

in believing

that it’s not

all as bad as that,

and that, if I choose,

I can contribute to this better world.

I will become the sum total

of fear, subservience, doubt, cowardice et al,

till it is further understood

I’m here for me

at first

I’m here to live,

not die.

I have questions –

beyond gravity –

which interest me.

I’m more concerned

and yet…

And then this doubt –

It is my life!

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Charm

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Words from another-

complimenting.

There is honesty and

bravery –

I am jealous.

I fight for my voice;

it seeps sometimes

through the cracks

in my reserve,

my fear of others’ opinions.

But it vies for recognition…

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Born to this Day

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In the rumble of an engine ticking over

Held up to the kerb in utter resignation

Against the backdrop of a Friday morning start

There is motion then and all else moves apart

Outside the moving streets they lag behind

As ever onwards ever after I am borne

©TheHairyTeacher2014

BetweenTwoSlices

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A hand grasping while the mouth mechanical keeps chewing another hand engaged in half a sandwich this lady’s allowed such indiscretion surrendering etiquette up to basic instinct and now remembering I think of coffee and the dunking of a biscuit there inside to let the soggy stain increase till just a limit and then pass it to one’s mouth is such a pleasure and yet those kids in Vuelva who eat their apples with a knife and fork may never know the wonders when we let conventions go

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Arriving Again

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In response to this indulgence I question all who view the path,
too riddled with obstacles before ever being approached.
A man’s entitled to imagination but if the path was clear before –
then still it is the same.
The passengers you bring are side by side with you
Not up ahead vying to be mowed down by you
and so in early morning eloquence
I share my thoughts that music brings.
Aside a street, a pavement tucked inside a cafe/bar:
the beer a tortured parody
non-alcoholic – as I’ve been trying to be.
The spring outside is heating up but forecasts tell of cold to come.
All obstacles are in the mind for if snow arrives then one last time,
I’ll build a snowman, pull a sledge,
and when it’s melted,
and blossoms instead shall fill with fragrant epitaphs
the death of Old Man snow at last,
then I’ll embrace like I do now –
The present moment,
The here and now.

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Arany Pénteken

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Imagine not recording this moment.
Imagine sacrificing it to a higher cause…
Delusion!
An utter sense of hysteria
coupled with an idea
of value, a worth
uncertain,
a worth unproven.
Imagine sacrificing this moment,
not recording this moment
because you thought silence was better!…

©TheHairyTeacher2014

 

 

A coin, a dice

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A coin, a dice, a chance but nothing.
It falls and fell before and after.
We are as we were and therefore defined:
yet predetermined.
Our destiny is merely this –
our humanity.
Our life, our belief, is because we do exist
and we forget.
We are, and this is it!

©TheHairyTeacher2014

Keela’s Dawn

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Somehow Othello-an I gently breeze the dawn exclaiming that if indeed it were now to die then most happy I would be.

I grasp this notion as I hold dear my child, close to mé in a punch-drunk embrace.

Her proclamations of an hour before have subsided.

The carpet demon subdued, lured now into my arms,

She finally succumbs to dreams, only thought of by adults, realised plainly in the minds of young children.

Maybe there there be dragons too! ensnaring the barest of innoncence,

giving creedance to the horrors of nighttime and loneliness:

maybe beyond all the notion of things soft and fluffy, the furious truth is a scaly opponent.

The early líght shafts in through the window, sheening the room to create my reflection.

I note the brighter side of mé, I see a vision of this moment.

In truth I can now say, that I have sung my child here back to sleep

and in so doing have fulfilled a dream I had never even thought of;

perhaps this is the essence of fatherhood.

©TheHairyTeacher2014

 

Someday

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Someday I’ll say it, what I feel,

If only to an empty glass,

or beneath an old yew tree.

And when I do I will not take delight

Unless of course I do it while it’s real.

Someday the smile will arise and disappear

And I will face depression without hope.

It’s then I’ll write my fury into a grave

And drink away the pain with which I cannot cope.

I’ll hang the stars out to accompany my moon,

And howling lunatically, I’ll recall all my doubts.

Someday I’ll shatter sanity upon the floor

Amidst the beer spills and the stains of shit,

Or leave it flitter up in coils of smoke

Away from mé eternally with my own breath.

It’s then I’ll bravely shout out “No Surrender”

While not perceiving the derision held below.

Someday I’ll read the words I’ve written here

And either laugh and love-

or rue the day!

But that someday is not today…

 

©TheHairyTeacher2014

 

Copyright © Martin O'Regan
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