Tag Archives: poem

Ophelia

Posted on October 16, 2017 by Ian O'Brien

Ophelia We wake to find her Fingerprints, Saharan dust On window sills, on Rooftops, Schoolyards, Graves, On driveways and motorways, On pylons and leaves, On our fingertips, Faint as ash. As if to say: See, there is a land Out … Continue reading →

Posted in Words | Tagged hurricane, manchester, Ophelia, poem, poetry, red sun | Leave a comment

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

Posted on July 9, 2016 by Ian O'Brien

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 | Leave a comment

Removals

Posted on March 25, 2015 by Ian O'Brien

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 →

Posted in Words | Tagged cancer, grief, Ian O'Brien, nostalgia, poem, poetry, removals | 2 Comments

The Witch

Posted on January 31, 2015 by Ian O'Brien

Posted in Words | Tagged holocaust, Ian O'Brien, midasinreverse, neighbours, poem, prejudice | Leave a comment

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

Posted on February 2, 2014 by Ian O'Brien

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 | 5 Comments

Dusk (O’Connell Street)

Posted on October 14, 2013 by Ian O'Brien

Last year, I was lucky enough to be published in THE SHOp Poetry Magazine, in Dublin. This is the poem:

Posted in Words | Tagged 1916, Big Jim Larkin, Dublin, Dublin Lockout, Irish history, poem, poetry, The SHOp Poetry Magazine | Leave a comment

Butcher Son

Posted on August 13, 2013 by Ian O'Brien

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 | 1 Comment

Tag Archives: poem

Ophelia

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

Removals

The Witch

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

Dusk (O’Connell Street)

Butcher Son

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