close-up-1850277_1280 (1)

I stare at the old pictures in their idle bedroom.
One with two people smiling out to sea in Kilkee.

Another shows them standing at the chapel door,
at my parents’ wedding in Kilcorney.

One gives me a glimpse of grandad,
a stolid stare down from his throne on a Caterpillar dozer.

Another which catches my eye, mom
locked in, held dear in her mother’s arms.

None show grandpa drunk.
But I heard about it.

None show his temper.
Although I heard about it too.

None show them both wavering with cancer.
None showed the coffins we carried.

© Christopher Patrick O’Riordan


Haiku: A Flowing Stream

Name on white marble,
Still inside your warmth I feel,
My spring daffodil.

Cancer creeps on me
Like winter on a flower.
Hopeful evergreen.

Moles and wrinkles
But your gentle embrace is
Truly beautiful.

Fingers brush through her
Chesnutt hair, green glorious (Maybe Emerald?)
Eyes through the window.

Fluttering wings fly
Off an autumn sycamore.
Come home in spring.

The terrace sleeps while
An adventurous cat is
Purring at our door.

Poem: Sunday in the City

The city in the rain
on Sunday morning is
clean, a little less mean.
Heaven opens, sharp showers take away
all of Saturday’s leftover pain.

Gutters flow in rhythm,
creating a gentle melody,
as dirt is hunted
and rinsed down drains.
The streets volume down

a notch but for a lonely beep
of a waiting taxi jeep.
Avenues are dreaming,
all traffic lights green.
Seekers of madness are all asleep.

As it nears seven
a hungover bus engine awakes.

A Masters I yet to Master

In here this face,

In a library where I have nobody

To say hello; to share a story,

or to just say hello.

Just me, my pen and this laptop mine.


My mind munches a thousand thoughts,

The good, the bad, and unmentionable.

All  thoughts created here in NUIG,

In this near mute library, where be

Just me, my pen and this laptop of mine.













IF I Had Cash – Some More Cash!

Once upon a time, long long ago my bank account was not in arrears like it seems always to be these days – damn these days!

“These Days,” I enter an amount to withdraw, and I cross my fingers, and dance if it’s not already in overdraft.

And it’s days like this, days where I come close to splashing some cash that I hate my bank account most; it’s an antagonist to having fun!

And it’s days like this that regret not using my mother’s view: “Spend, Spend, and God will Send.”

Oh I once lived by that saying, but nowadays I have begun to think that God doesn’t work this way.

I suppose I should say why I am ranting, Well firstly, I rant a lot and tis like a hobby. Secondly, I have turned down a night at a Red Hot Chili Peppers Concert…

I’m still calculating the cost of that ticket I’ve been be offered and look somewhat distantly into the distance and Say ” If one did this and that one could maybe, just about afford….Nah I can’t!

After all, I am looking for a room in Galway to do me, Masters! And that ain’t cheap, and even if you have money, it’s still hard to get a “Dacent” place.

Cash can be a bitch, but yet we all want some.



So a good friend ,  a very good friend, is departing our home country, the Emerald Isle, the home of  the Shamrock Shake and all of our country’s great things….Like am…You Know…Let’s just move on.

And of course my friend doesn’t take small steps, she takes gigantic leaps,  it’s China she’s leaving us for!

“Are ya mad Michelle?”  is what I’ll say when I meet her before she takes flight; closely followed by:

“Do we here, your friends, in Ireland, mean anything to you!”

And maybe finish with a : “ Oh so you’re TOO GOOD for Ireland, oh you’re  gone above your station!”

But of course, after some time, I shall say fair frigging play to Michelle! Going working  in a far away country,   a different culture,  is an adventure and a step outside the comfort zone.

See I personally would never be brave enough to take such a step – I’m a home bird without wings or one that can’t fly …I’m an Ostrich.

Yet if asked I would recommend exploring different societies, because there’s so much to see and so little time, plus there is a painted path for a person’s life in Irish society so I admire the increasing number of people which are today taking different paths.

While the thought of traveling to China – a country way, way over there  or should I  simply say far away, is somewhat scary to me, but, I am sure it would be exhilarating, an adrenaline rush and maybe something that I should have the balls to do!

Our planet is remarkable and there are so many  thrilling things to see, places  to explore and enjoy – the good, the bad, and mad!

And, I don’t mean common tourist holidays but like my friend, my brave friend Michelle,  going and staying in a new environment, the other side of  the world, and coming part of another society.

So anyways, I must go make some tea and so I’ll finish by saying once more fair play to my friend and to anyone exploring the world, making new homes and new friends {Remember Us}

Bring us back some good stories Michelle 🙂

P.S. And you made good tae too, especially when I was a little grumpy!

One wrong step makes long walks

It was midnight.  The darkness was almost blinding, but the silence  I gently broke with a rustle of the pebbles  as I walked towards her white marble headstone. I was here again, sneaking in, to once more say sorry. Maria Julia Browne died on the 14th July 1996, young and beautiful.

“ I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh you meant it kid, you meant to kill my kid,”  said a voice I once knew well.,

I turned to say I didn’t, that I was a child too, that I didn’t understand, but a bullet hit  me between  my eyes.  

I fell  upon his daughter’s grave. I whispered to her for the final time.

‘‘I’m sorry, through life, through death, I will always be sorry.’’

“Get off her grave you rat, you fucking rat.”


Why do people give a “LIKE” without reading your piece?

This a terrible crime, one which I definitely feel is rampant on WordPress.

I genuinely feel that those who undertaken this sin should be hung – there is still a lot to be said for the medieval era!

Obviously, I am not accusing you of this for you are reading this piece – my release of frustration.

But if you have written a poem or a story and see that it gets an instant like…and the piece takes a least  two  minutes to read you’ll understand my enmity.

Anyways thanks for reading, I do appreciate those who take the time to read a piece or make a comment.

But why do people “LIKE” pieces they haven’t read?