Saturday, 21 April 2012

Poet Karen O'Connor

I had the pleasure of attending the launch of a friend's 2nd book of poetry Between The Lines in Tralee. Her name is Karen O'Connor and it was a wonderful evening of Karen reading her terrific poetry and speeches from VIPs. Karen is gifted not just in writing poems and short stories, she is talented in reading aloud her work. She brings to life every word on the page and leaves the audience wanting more.
This collection, Between The Lines is published by DOGHOUSE. Her first collection FINGERPRINTS(On Canvas) is also published with them. Both books can be bought direct from DOGHOUSE and in book shops also. Check out 
Congratulations Karen, looking forward to the next collection.


Sunday, 15 April 2012

At the Races

Thunder approaches,
Stable colours pass by,
Winner alright. 

Saturday, 7 April 2012

Flash Fiction at Easter

He lay against the hard splintered wood. The pain washing over His body, excruciating and severe. The thoughts in His mind muddled up, wondering why He ever had agreed to it. Jay forced His eyes open to search for His mother. But soldiers were crowded around Him.  He knew her heart was breaking. 
It was the one thing that made this ordeal all the harder to endure. He loved His Mum; she had always been there for Him. Trusting Him when He knew His actions puzzled her. Being honest, He had questioned the Destiny that lay before Him especially during His difficult teenage years.
But it was her, His adoring mother who reminded Him of His duty and encouraged Him when He faltered. Joseph, her husband was hardworking and loyal and it comforted Jay knowing Joseph would be with her through the agonising future ahead.
The first nail went in, He tried to remain silent. The warmth of His blood spread over His hands and dripped down into the ground. Another nail, then another and yet another, His body throbbing and blood flowed where sweat and tears once seeped. The promise of impending death clothed all those who stood nearby watching. Jay felt the rough hands secure His broken and tired flesh with more blows of the hammer. Then the timber where He lay shifted and slowly it was raised.
As He hung there, crucified, His gaze fell on His Mum, weeping with grief. Looking skywards, He cried “Forgive them, for they know not what they are doing”.