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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
Posted in Words
Tagged Ian O'Brien, midasinreverse, pantomimes, poetry, relationships
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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
Posted in Words
Tagged books, childhood, curriculum, Education, english, exam factory, Ian O'Brien, literature, love, midasinreverse, poem, poetry, reading, shakespeare, teaching
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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
The Witch
Posted in Words
Tagged holocaust, Ian O'Brien, midasinreverse, neighbours, poem, prejudice
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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
Posted in Thoughts
Tagged godisamanc, Ian O'Brien, manchester, memories, middleton, mike garry, music, smithdom, Smiths, teenage angst
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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
Posted in Thoughts, Words
Tagged family, gorton, granddad, grief, Ian O'Brien, ian o'brien poet, loss, manchester, memories, midasinreverse, newcastle, poem, poet, poetry, robert stuart, where you are
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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
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
Posted in Words
Tagged Butcher Son, conscience, farming, guilt, Ian O'Brien, industry, midasinreverse, poem, poetry, vegetarianism
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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
Posted in Words
Tagged black waves, death, drowning, hands under water, Ian O'Brien, imagery, melancholic, midasinreverse, ocean, poem, poetry
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