Poem By Seán O Muiríosa

My hand shakes and quivers a bit
At times of importance, times of joviality.
My face burns like the ring of a hob,
My hands slide like melting plastic.

And the head is adrift, treacherously,
A lost ship close to jagged rocks.
The mind’s on the island asking why
The warning sign is always burning in the sky.

Comments about Burn

Sean, Disregard my threatening message. (Oops!) I'm happy to see you back in action!
Devious & spectacular. So current, relevant. This is why i continue to read poetry over song lyrics. Your writing, Seán, keep on. care, sjg
Very good work Nicely written

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Other poems of O MUIRÍOSA

Opening Tunnel Vision

Twinkling lanterns shone high
In the Johnstown night sky

The Visiting Hours

I visited your grey face today.
Your not well, old friend, not well.
They say it’s spreading swiftly
Through your every curve and bend,

Cracks Of Night

Staring through the dark of night
I can just about make out the ceiling, cracks and all.
It’s a battered fading plain of white like a rolled up piece of paper
Flattened back out again. It must have witnessed

A Journey To My Roots

The old house stood as sturdy as ever
even as the mangled jade ivy clung and grasped
as it had for decades, but she would never be killed.
It’s not in her make-up.

A Night Of Shards, Debs 2006

I couldn’t face it
That room a mist
With you two its axel
My friends your cogs


Tonight the sky is yours.
I dedicate it to you in all its awe.
It’s so colourful, a promise
of things to come perhaps,