About Me

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Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, now living in Cheshire, England. I started writing poetry eight years ago, as a hobby. I have enjoyed that new venture very much. My preferences are for long and micro-form poetry styles. A first book of poetry ~ Reason Without Rhyme, was published in December 2013. A second book ~ Fifty Seven Pebbles, was published in September 2015...I am presently compiling the content for my third book. Thank you for visiting my Blog which is regularly updated. COPYRIGHT: The entire copyright and content of this Blog belongs to the author Eileen T O'Neill. Nothing should be copied, reproduced or hosted as per RSS feed by any other party. {This particularly applies to the USA company Feedspot.com} Header Photograph: Ballycastle Beach, County Antrim, Northern Ireland...

Wednesday, 21 May 2014

The Green Lamp....

A strong bout of envy sent them reeling,
Twisting and turning with hatred in mind.
Seething between gritted teeth of steel,
Thick as thieves within their consonance.
Greed and spitefulness drove their actions,
Legalities placed them in echelons of power.
Pieces of tarnished silver and tired antiquities,
Pre-occupied moves between here and there.
Tying up loose ends and bolting down padlocks,
Relativity had lost its relevance and connection.
A discoloured frame held younger years in view,
Its static reverence attuned to passing spectators.
Few chattels gathered into dusty nooks and corners,
Shadows scattered by memories of the green lamp.

 ©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 21/05/2014
Poet’s United Midweek Motif: The Colour Green

Wednesday, 7 May 2014

Lost For Words....

Totally rapt in the escape into freedom,
Harsh realities lost in a carefree world.
Child’s play and pretence of being loved,
Being seen and not heard was normality.
Respect and fear both reigned supreme,
One might have wondered but never spoke.
Adulthood was a step into a distant future,
Childhood sheltered ignorance in innocence.
Teenage years never confronted confrontations,
One might have wished but never said so then.
Self-evaluation presents a strange return to mind,
Later years ponder the short comings and shortfall.
Hatred still festers in its resting place for an eternity,
Apprehension found a confidence too late for questions.
One might have challenged if only for a fearful rebuke,
The silent elder’s evil reasoning remains lost for words.

©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 07/05/2014
Poet's United Mid-Week Motif: Children...