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john oconnell Jul 2010
2 girls
full of joy,
linked
arm in arm
and dancing
down the road -
not knowing
yet
what the future
has in store
for them.
john oconnell Sep 2010
3 brown, tall, large and stately bottles
of Trappist monks' beer,
each with their own individual and historical label,
stand quietly, sentry-like on a shelf.

Craftmanship in
3 colours and 3 tastes,
7, 8 and 10 percent strong:
from dark robin-red - fresh, soft and a little sweet;
to dark blond - fruity and sweet and sour;
and finally amber - fullbodied and sweet and sour.

Religious beer
celebrating
the festive season
of Our Saviour's birth.

3 times a heavenly treat, indeed!
john oconnell Aug 2010
6 degrees Celsius

From my balcony,
yes! the atlas
of my balcony;
with the music
of the masters
pouring forth,
from within,
I follow the stars
direction Norway
and Sweden
while around the corner
one looks
towards Iceland
and 'those islands'.
Cleeve is just across the way
and Paris and Brussels
down the road.

This is my mainland!
john oconnell Jun 2010
A clarinet
brightening up
the night
in the cheerful
freedom
of it's numerous
variations,
makes the heart
light
as if it were
dancing
over fields of spring.
john oconnell Aug 2010
A colossal ****** -

a symphony crashing
in the heart's mind
and in the mind's heart;

into a momentary harmony
and unity of mortal being.
john oconnell Jun 2010
A cool breeze
shaves the contours
of my face
in a night lit
by a thousand warm
stars.
john oconnell Oct 2010
A girl up the way
has entered puberty.

One day she wears
the most outlandish clothes and colours
and the next
black, gray or blue.

Fond of protecting
the little ones, in one breath,
she stands separate from adults and everyone,
in the next.

Perhaps,
she talks with classmates and girlfriends
about the changes to her body
as she throws fierce energy into gym
and pursues intensely with pimples and glasses
her various and numerous studies.

Recently,
she was halfway up
the Everest of a lamp-post
before her mother came out
and roared her down.
john oconnell Aug 2010
A Granny Smith
a day etc.;
pears left to ripen
on a window sill
are worth waiting for;
1 kiwi = 4 oranges
in vitamin C -
do eat the skin!

Fruit for the eating -
elliciting a little homesickness
for our lost Garden of Eden.
john oconnell Jul 2010
A great day,
aided
by Mars bars;
out on a lake,
in a small boat,
fishing for all
we were worth.

Later,
retiring to a pub
we spoke about
the big-one
who got away -

the big-one
always
gets away!
john oconnell Jul 2010
Ah! the light
and a day
beginning with Bach;
the clicking of fingers
and immediate dancing
welcoming life's mysteries
yet again -

with joys
and adventures
bearing
new fruit,
new delicacies
for the soul's
digestion.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Alleluia !
The visions and insights
increase with each passing minute -

whirlwinds of growing wisdom
together with the receiving
of perpetual graces
and eternal values.

All difficulties surrender
and disappear into oblivion
where the horrors
of non-being thrive.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Alone again
in the nochturnal
hours,
with pen
in hand,
as the music
soothes
an awakening
soul.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Violin strings
being fully stretched

as the world sleeps
through it's woes -

a dolorous tune
for mankind

heard
by but the few.
john oconnell Sep 2010
Another day will pass unnoticed
by this stranded and shoved out being
who, from a soft chair in the night-shade,
sits churning up the past.

The spider in his heart
weaves dreamlike webs of ancient death
and hangs them high above the stonegray vapours
that pour from the Vesuvius of his mouth.

Rapidly rising rosetinted images
explode into the infernal fire
that soon consumes the insipid blood
made passive by someone's contempt.

And the shell survives the light ******
that issue from a bathroom bulb
through holes in threadbare shut curtains.
john oconnell Jun 2010
Another seascape.

The occasional gull
glints in a cheerful sun
against a sky
not hungry for clouds.

Everything smells of salt;
there is sea-****
and companionable cliffs
while the backbone of distant mountains
is drowned in an azure haze.
john oconnell Jul 2010
A pea
fell on the floor -
I picked it up
and ate it
because of all the hunger
on this 'green' globe.
john oconnell Aug 2010
A piano sonata
echoes
from the valleys
of a heart's
optimism,
in a night
winding down.
john oconnell Aug 2010
A piece -

too terribly beautiful,

too extremely poignant

and too utterly perfect

in expressing

the emotions

of a frail

and pathetically

limited heart.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Please put a brake
on my writer's greed
and let me patiently await
Your promptings when and where
You, in all Your sagacity,
choose fit.
john oconnell Jun 2010
As an actor on the stage of life,
in the daily flux of time,
continually crossing frontiers
I move from one space to another
endeavouring to fill each one
with some semblance of normality.
john oconnell Aug 2010
A shot of music.

A human voice -
a voice of Slavic magic
storms into
the dried out
wastelands
of my parched soul.
john oconnell Aug 2010
In this silence
there is not the hush of a breeze,
not the purr of a cat,
not the hum of summer bees
and not the wiping of feet on a familiar mat.

In this silence
there is the absence of fear,
the quenching of thirst
and the quiet eating of hungry bread.

In this silence
there is the wise old look that says so much.

This silence is and is not
the lapping of gentle waters on the shores of a lonely lake;
is and is not the cries of gulls
hovering above the cliffs of etenal seas.
john oconnell Aug 2010
The hundrum existence of millions of lives suddenly ceased
as did their obedience to the drudgery of habit -
taking to the sea, to their gardens, to boats, cool drinks,
sun-tan lotions, ice-creams, cool dresses,
to light and shade as dictated to by desire.

Sand scorching to the naked foot glitters like gold for the having
and every square of every town shelters under a haven of umbrellas
and lazy liquor assisted sensuous talk.

The farmers work on a Sunday too
and weekend traffic jams sweat it out
to the blaring of radio cheerfulness in the extreme.

Spotless blue skies progress to star-lit canopies
and barbecues are the dominant feature of the early hours.

Sun and good humour, honest abandonment, salads and heavy foliage rule.
john oconnell Aug 2010
At last!

Cheerful notes flood

the heart's empty chambers

and encourage impromptu steps

in a momentary jig of joy.
john oconnell Jul 2010
A walk -
cold to begin with
but the blood soon warms up
and everything becomes
invigorating.

Sun and frost -
the trees sentinel
bare silhouettes
in a winter landscape,
as train traffic
can, more than, clearly be heard
crossing the Rhine
near Oosterbeek.

On the way
crisp reflections
on general and particular
affairs;
a clear sober mind
plotting and planning
the immediate future.

Refreshed,
with all things translucent
and in their proper places
I head for home
and coffee and a cigar.
john oconnell Sep 2010
A world of splinters
embedding themselves in the flesh;
the spirit surrounded by a crown of thorns;
pangs of received and on-others-inflicted wounds
tormenting any hope of durable reconciliation -

the birth of wisdom is suspect to mockery.

Maybe, it should  accept and succumb
to ignorance and impotence.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Backwaters.

Violins and pipes
played together
abreast
of different rippling
waters;

Uileann throttling
forward
over hills and downs -
the hunt, chase, ****
or loss;

thrill of being,
spontaneous
in hilly jump,
stream, rock,
hedge, mountain,
mud and pebbled with soup,
partridge, pheasant,
trout and salmon
horizon.
john oconnell Jun 2010
Barcelona in the siesta:
two alien idiots walking
the dry deserted streets
in search of mineral water -
like infants in a land of gentiles.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Blinded
and surrounded
by light and more and more light
there are no insights, comforts
or illuminations;
only tears raining down
on the dusty desert
of my thirsting soul.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Bliss.

A
chamber
orchestra
exulting -
with
football
results
coming
in
over
a
silent screen.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Celestial long summer days
bring us back to the joys of hide-and-seek,
tickling long grasses and blue infinite skies -
the innocence of childhood ways
played close to the ground
while travelling incredible imaginary distances
to attend a momentary symphony
of pastoral vision and sound.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Cellophane shining
and flapping
in a dusty wind;

overshadowed
by distant blue
hot heavens and mountains.
john oconnell Sep 2010
Cigars from Summatra -

100% tobacco, strong in flavour

and catering for the hungry tastebuds

help

in between

putting on one's thinking cap

and an unadulterated

course of action.
john oconnell Oct 2010
Come into my heart forever,
horizontally and vertically
to the greatest distances and heights.

Come and be with me in every step
and breath I take.

Come and share all the toil and hardships
of this mundane existence.

Come and divide it all
in pain with the occasional
scent of heaven.

Come, my love, into the womb
of my future.

Come, my love, come.

Come and stay for infinity!
john oconnell Aug 2010
Your door
was always
open -

this time,
I entered
from the weatherbeaten
steppes
of my non-being

never to leave
again.
john oconnell Sep 2010
The pretence of too many new beginnings
lacking, eventually, any appearance of permanent lustre.
Each new day just another blob in a copybook
of fragmented scribblings.
john oconnell Oct 2010
The cue - the cue - the cue
for a joyful entry
Django on your radio
lures him dancing through the door
and your face plays and portrays brilliant colours
with the laughter of a spirit
being momentarily freed
from the sadness of it's earthly shackles.
john oconnell Jun 2010
Doorwerth 0400 hours.

Far from pomp and ceremony,
this village -
here in the night
while Amsterdam throbs on;

the local fox prowls around,
an owl speaks his mind
and my light shines
in a vacuum of privacy
as Hilversum 4
calmes the nerves
in the background.

Yes! oil burning
with expectations
from the world of words.

My books are alive and well
and talking amongst themselves.
john oconnell Aug 2010
During
a symphony
a fusion
of Your cross,
Munch's Scream
and my Mona Lisa's
innumerable faces
breath
a sense of completion.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Electric neon
collages;
multi-coloured,
flashing, successively,
on and off
through the night's
empty
desert of ever shifting sands.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Every day
I drink wine,
break and share
bread
with my family.

It is not a ritual
but a simple blessing
and comfort -
a communion of necessity
and joy.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Family life.

Great aruments and debates
concerning mundanities
and trivialities -
the all-conquering
world of pettines
and , of course,
the taken-for-granted
comforts and cosiness.
john oconnell Sep 2010
Feelings -

tugging

at my heart strings;

pressing

all the buttons

at once!



Written in collaboration with Marie Shine.
john oconnell Nov 2010
Distance stretched
the length of our nearness
that time in the park, the Phoenix Park,
when the deer fled from our coming
and you, silently with the sound of thunder,
walked over there knowing that I, being unsure
and trying to think the reasonable thing,
would follow when desire was to strike out
and savour the wounds of a false pride.

But then the November darkness came quickly
where you had come to stop
and swirling leave shoals
rose and fell like souls
praying for the next rush
to lift them higher
before a distant bell
rang out my destiny.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Gliding
through the fresh snowflakes
of my mind;
feeling
warm and sociable
in the taverns
of my contented heart
I embrace this winter's day
as a benevolent gift
chosen from Your inexhaustable
chest of treasures.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Not being capable
of imitating a song-thrush
(I know his speckled colours!)
and being in possession of a guitar
that won't or refuses to play itself
I will gladly admit to an arrest,
somewhere, in my developement.
john oconnell Sep 2010
Handel

played on a concertina

in the dreamy hours

of a June night

spent

on the shores

of the far reaches

of Connemara

as we confessed

many sorrows

and ample joys

with a northern glint

in the sky.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Hard boiled eggs.

Fill the saucepan
up with water;
boil and boil
till everything is dry;
then run
the cold tap
so that
the inferno
cools down.
Peel
gently,
add
salt and pepper
and
devour.

A
gastronomical
delight
for
anyone
in
a garret.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Haunting music
fills this soul
to the brim,
in it's quest
for meaning
and dignity
in the wherewithal
of this meagre and aimless
existence.
john oconnell Aug 2010
Is there to be no reprieve
from the mental rack
of present hauntings
resurrecting a persistent
and pervading past ?

Into the more than endless night
they loom, dressed in cloaks
and armed with countless daggers,
rusted in their deep graves.

They plunge and contort
the heart into a shapeless mass
of free-floating anxieties
dominating and dissecting
every half-conscious syllable

destroying all feeble endeavours
at any semblance of normality.
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