Tag Archives: Ian O’Brien

Pantomimes 

It was an illusion, walking home afterwards, eyes wild wet. The moon was large and Hollywood yellow and beneath this, in a bus shelter, two teens kiss, lit by the shelter light but from this angle, from Sorrow Hill, I … Continue reading

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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

The ghost of William Shakespeare to a pupil who accidentally conjures him whilst frantically writing an essay at 3 o’clock in the morning: “Don’t wrap me up in the chains of your poxy writing frames or pick at my remains … Continue reading

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Generator

Completely forgot about this poem until out and about walking today. The poem was published in Other Poetry way back in 2003. It’s a bit pretentious but I still like the imagery and feel of it.       

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Removals

12 months ago today I lost my best friend, Suzy, to breast cancer. Recently, I drove past her old house and was sad to see her car gone from the space where it used to be, the empty house unlit. … Continue reading

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The Witch

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There Is A Light

Just listened to Mike Garry talking about the Smiths on Radio 4 (check out his blog godisamanc.wordpress.com.) Got me thinking about the first time I heard the Smiths. Just left this response on Mike’s page: I don’t know what I’m … Continue reading

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Where You Are (In Memoriam: Robert Stuart 1924-2012)

  When my granddad died, I wanted to write something for him, but couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. When we took the train to Newcastle to scatter his ashes in the Tyne, I wanted to say something, but couldn’t. This … Continue reading

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Sunlight (Eston Street): A poem for Keith Bennett

For the post-war, post-1960s, post-modern, post-Tony Wilson, post-Smiths, post-everything generation, Manchester’s past is a projection, a kind of grim nostalgia, stitched together in song lyrics and cult films, stills of Coronation Street and Rita Tushingham. The early 1960s is black … Continue reading

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Butcher Son

A thick sea curdles as, from within the steel, a bladed sea of calls cranes and lifts, out across mud, up walls, to the curtained ear. His white coat spattered with blood dawn tears. A flinching twist, the waking kiss … Continue reading

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Hands Under Water

Fireworks in the night sky Light up darkened cloud. There’s a boy on the coastline. Black waves will lift you down. Hands move under water; Let go of light and sound. Dust moves on forever. Answers that were never found. … Continue reading

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