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 …’

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/poets-united-midweek-motif-famous.html

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.’

http://poetryjaam.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/shoes-or-feet.html

Reality....

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.’

http://poetryjaam.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/one-word.html