Easter Passover & Resurrection 

https://anchor.fm/embed/a6520d

I rose from the dead 

We’d all love to rise from the dead
and snatch a second chance
from the teeth of history.

Which of you would refuse resurrection
and leave the stones in place
until the winter breaks?

My death was cold
and stank of feces
left by swallows fit to glide away.

I never knew how long my death would last
until I rose again from the jaws of a mystery made
before the stars exploded

and the universe was saved.

 

Reunited

I left the house of my reincarnation
before the swallows returned
the year they cancelled the Grand National.

I walked out the door
before dawn disappeared, drove through a dream
as if in a dismal draft of corked Dolcetto.

I pitched my leaky tent in Wiltshire
’til forced out by a wife’s thirst
for regeneration.

Winter hardened the road I travelled
as I wished to wallow like a pig
in the hot mud Bladud found.

I sailed back to the Province of my birth
in a ferry beset by bleeding ballast,
into the storm of a tiger’s saliva

whipped by Irish bankers, Roman bishops,
windy politicians and uncivil servants.
The rant of ravaged youths, refugees from famine,
coursed through my bloodstream, out my throat
and stained my pen.

I wrote resurrection out of my will.

until I flew to the city of surprised eyes,
composer’s minds,
mouthful feasts

until I sat opposite my child in Southark
speaking of the Golan, green with cotton,
forgetting Masada and the Dead Sea

and lived to swim again
among dreadlocks, hijabs, sidecurls, pale people
and more

until at last I greet myself
arriving at my own house
in my own skin

and we smile again
reunited over broken bread
and the words of one imagination.

Road-opening

https://audioboom.com/posts/5355503-poem-road-opening-by-paul-o-mahony

Road-opening

The Council shut the road outside Crawford Woods

on Thursday

without warning

blocked the way down Church Hill

forced us all to detour

crawlingly

day after day until sundown on Saturday.

They even parked a road-repairing, four-wheeled, monstrosity

–  a rhinoceros of a stone-chip spreader –

outside the house of Adrian and Eimear

so obtrusively

we couldn’t avoid talking to each other

for the first time since Halloween.

‘Twas sticking plaster on potholes

for the sake of bumps in the night

tyres in the daylight.

 

II

On the third, day the cock crowed

before the sun returned,

we could turn left again

to embrace our over-hanging trees

and shadow side.

Shards covered over

at least temporarily,

boulders removed

so earthworms can move forward now

beyond the known universe.

Road-opening without ceremony

an invitation to return to fruitful ways

–  the journey of a lifetime.

I Love Women

I Love Women



I love women

I admire women
I am jealous of women

I am enriched by women
I have been saved by women

I love the shape of women
… the flaws of women

I am infuriated by women
I love cooking for women

I am irritated by women
I despair of women

I am tickled by women
I write for women

Women have made me a man.

About Paul O’Mahony @omaniblog

This is where I’ll put a short personal introduction  

ChangeAgents - The 2nd Year
My right hand
– which my daughter Grace might like to read in 20 years.

What should I say?

On Periscope  (bio):

I scope very often. Engage with humans. Playful, Poet, Storyteller, Friendly, Foodie, Gentle, Generous – Podcaster – Copywriter – http://www.paulhomahony.com  

On Twitter (bio)

Business storytelling consultant – Podcaster – Poet – Servant – On @Periscopeco – Foodie – naturally ambitious + love to share my contacts.