Tag: fear | Peter O Regan

In Plight

Posted on October 20, 2017 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

My mother’ grip weaker but tighter too

A desperate plea to me and to mortality

The love abounding but unstable

The conditions placed upon herself weigh badly.

“Was I a good mother?” the plaintive quest to understand

The fear of an Unforgiven.

Yet what her memories paint and what of them remain

I cannot judge

But what I can induce is blame

That reassurances will never penetrate.

A child robbed of youth;

Or the joy therein,

Robbed of a father through the maraudings of a mean mother

And when his death arrived

Though grown

She was left alone against the politics of the justifiably estranged

Strained through years of conflict and contradiction.

So what then of my future in this mess?

A hand that will grip tight long after death

Is made of love and not the need for love

To reciprocate is joy

But to give without expectation is strength

And to never look for reassurances is brave –

Especially at the end.

Across a notion

Posted on October 15, 2017 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

In the faded blue now turned dark

There sparkle the settlements of an age

An eyesore to the unspoilt landscape

A sign of hope to the weary traveler

A beacon amidst the puffs of clouds

Which dispel the views our tired minds are longing for.

Holding on just this little bit longer

The time now measured in our descent

as the clouds embalm us

The darkness almost entombing –

But we pray, collectively,

That engineering, yes science,

Will save us again,

Will transport us safely into the bosom of our destination.

We are the pilgrims set out against life

In search of it

In the nuances of every step

We are fools hoping for change

And yet we see it,

We feel it,

Perceive it at every turn.

But collectively we become lost in the mantras

The panic,

The sheer superstition ,

Rock Face sheer, cliffintine,

We have it, it us

And shattered in our communion

We scream injustice

Searching for our scapegoat

The voodoo functions

The blame is cast

The snake eyes removed as was our Judas.

And again as we set down we forget our hysteria

And once more we move beyond the limits of our fear

Into the freedom that forgetfulness and ignorance afford us.

In the end, Love

Posted on October 4, 2017 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

To hold the shadow dear, the faded memories

The loves lost

The fights had

The friends, the feelings:

To position them in a place of some importance

Each one a tool

To teach

To tempt us forward.

And yet upon a pedestal too oft residing

The pain descending

Like hot wax dripping

Time measured in its and your destruction.

Time measured backwards towards the hurt

As if nothing mattered anymore.

The blind fool lives for what is lost

The wise one dares to tread once more into the minefield

that is the heart.

A Coming of Age

Posted on May 27, 2017 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

A coming of age a rite of passage

To write in remembrance to commemorate

I’m not mourning and yet I may still

For what I have done to that old tired beast.

I’ve slaughtered it, humanely,

in the name of expression.

Stood there in the limelight only the darkness to see

But like oft has been mentioned, I felt them, faceless, expectant,

and when I sat down swaddled in the spotlight

I sat down with the weight of their individual silence,

Each of them protruding through the inky veil,

To sit beside me on the sack cloth coughing:

This is poetry, culture – steak after all,

And I played my part tonight.

And I come away less vilified than deified,

Though the truth, I know, lies somewhere in between.
I shake the remnants of a beer from its hiding place,

hunting it down with my greed,

And allow that though momentarily I was sophisticated,

I am, in the end, Still me.

The neighbours

Posted on November 27, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

The neighbours
I don’t want to speak to them
I don’t know what to say!
Is she better?
Which one?
The younger one too!?
We’ll see, as my words fail to smile.
I need all my energy for us now
And not for them.
I can paint their world with regalery
Once my own has again found stability.
First things first: Family then friends then neighbours I guess…
But who are they?

The darker they seem

Posted on November 20, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

The darker they seem
With each reach inwards
Each breach of skin and trust.
The pressure, the voices, numbing into shadows along the waste, the perceived pain.
Kisses falter against the torment
Caresses run against the grain.
In the idiocy of a moment
Something matters, something dumb.
There might even be a smile
Or bare intention lost in realizing it
To look ever onwards
And never back.
The pale parade of patient doctors,
Or nervous nurses,
And all the rest.
Inside a lair of greater healing
Before e’er the morning, comes this night first.

Back and forth

Posted on November 14, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

Back and forth on errand trail
The need for joy a subtle distance.
For hope itself disguised in rage
The world around now not a friend.
The silver lining wearing thin
Searching for the sun beyond.
Bit by bit a ray but then
A cloudburst too to spoil our mood.

Through the darkness of the strains of winter

Posted on November 1, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

“There’s a flu bug going around,” said often with such terror and, or grim acceptance.

Vaccinations are spoken of and ever since the H1N1 farce more and more people feel compelled to prick themselves as a means to a defence. The problem is, and has always been, viruses are smarter than that, and the mere notion of a pancea is rendered, justifiably, redundant by their very existence. So what can we do to defend ourselves.

Vitamins, vitamins ,vitamins…and so on and on the barrage of fliers, ads, billboards, all designed to make you sick by their very ubiquity! What about the fruit stand, the colourful fruit that paints easy all these grey and miserable days? In my opinion it is still the best place to begin, so instead of allowing pharma to take up all the advertising space, maybe local government should sponsor a drive to advertise local produce during the festive season, if not all year round. If a government claims to really care for a country, then perhaps such initiatives can add more than lip-service to what often turns out to be the debacle we call self-serving politics.

Whether we are speaking about health in terms of the individual, the nation as a whole, or within terms of politics etc. there is one word we are sure to come across: balance. The balance is there when we address diet, good or bad, when we speak about training, exercising, studying, and on the political landscape, everybody knows that what is really needed in order for a country to gain stability is to have a spread across the board of political ideas. When a country is seen to be divided into just two camps, left and right, often times this imbalance is the pull and drag, push and shove mechanism of upheavel, and revolt. There comes a time when a population craves peace and consistency, and oddly enough sometimes dictators seem more likely to achieve at least some of this.

I have no news

Posted on October 22, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

I have no news, she sighed
And the other side went dead.
An audible silence seeping through
Conveying the weight of optimism.
A baby’s babbling could be heard there –
While here the morning sun dabbed corners
Expressing beauty from a clouded mind.
Soon the journey would begin
Not my calvary just my worry
Burdened, moving, questioning…
A bus door opened hissss
And closing beep beeped.
And onwards sailing,
Nearly there.

I hit my girl

Posted on October 7, 2016 by martinoregan • 0 Comments

I hit my girl this morning to make her see some sense.
She glared at me through teary eyes.
I could see she’d learned to vent.
It’s for your own good, I promise you
And she frowned and snarled and wept.
I slapped my girl this morning, and this has made all the difference.

Tag Archives: fear