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, 14 January 2015

Rebirth and Opportunity....

Making that first bold move takes much courage,
The contemplation and the deliberation were easy.
Stepping away from what was life’s familiarity then,
Every worldly possession uprooted and packed away.
Closing doors of the old abode was a surreal moment,
Pulling the garden gate shut and not daring to look back.
Nearest and dearest confused in the midst of changes,
Looking beyond the confines of what had been home.
Promise and dreams awaited in a flight of sixty minutes,
The arrival revealed an environment of boring normality.
Leafy slumbers of countryside living in a haven of safety,
Opportunities grasped at every turning point of direction.
One could sit and contemplate the nothingness of something,
Or simply taste life free from the scourges of its daily violence.
That momentous date of departure remains in minds forever,
Yet a rebirth evolved from the perspective of fresh beginnings.

©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 14/01/2015
Poets United Mid-Week Motif: ‘ Unbirthday-Anniversary Dates …’

Retired Boots....

My two grandfathers both wore similar boots,
Laced up tightly and tied around their ankles.
Black heavy boots, habitually worn every day,
Many miles were walked before bedtime hours.
Imprints of the earth’s soil laden into their soles,
The toil of the land engrained into leathery hands.
Journeying between outlying abodes of kith and kin,
Tough old boots knew undulating countryside tracks.
Country men had a particular look in style and attire,
Trousers hitched high with stripey braces held at waist.
One had a white curly moustache and always wore a suit,
Both smoked ceramic pipes, filled with blended tobaccos.
Childhood memories were happy when visiting grandfathers,
They recounted stories which held my awe in great suspense.
In later years, the pairs of boots became vacant and unused,
Grandfathers and their worlds became static and chair bound.
Life no longer required old habits attached to working boots,
Comfy slippers became the uniform of more sedentary years.

©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 14/01/2015
Poetry Jam Prompt: ‘Shoes or Feet.

Monday, 12 January 2015


It bites with an unrepentant force,
Sinking its gnashers into life’s calm.
Creeps silently to rest on opportunity,
Forcing chills of a harsh north-westerly.
It catches breath by surprise and stealth,
Heart beats race to seek chambers of rest.
No namby-pamby summer breeze to thrill,
Reality grasps pleasantries and casts aside.
Shakes and stirs cocktails of mixed emotions,
Heaving wishful thinking into another zone.
Options surface and cluster towards choices,
This and that were envious of the half-dozen.
Boxed into submission as dawn projected itself,
Neither here nor elsewhere looked most likely.
Facts starred back in a black and white clarity,
The half-way house was almost a worthy refuge.

©Copyright Eileen T O’Neill 12/01/2015
Poetry Jam Prompt: ‘One Word.’