Stuff that I have written in the past -
The 'Author'
Pacing up and down
- Eh!? Inertia?!
Good Lord No; full of life and go.
..... just wondering what to do, and what to show
to friends who slyly want to know
what flowering masterpiece has grown.
- G'WAN! GERTCHA!
Sitting in an armchair
before the fire
The desire to create coming strong;
flaming in, milling round; staying long
after the thought strikes and is gone.
Pity! But there was nothing to it.
No body! No point! - RUDDY LIAR!
Lying in the bed.
Sinking even lower.
great battle between sleep and the urge to write.
Every blink a tearful, heart-stirring fight.
To the bitter end, when dark replaces light, and all is quiet as I ......
triumph?
No, my friends; No ..... I SNORE.
Mike O'Shea - in a dingy basement bed-sitter at Notting Hill. 1954
A Fragrant Fragment
She is beautiful beyond my dreams,
For she is real and warm,
with a smile that beams
into the sky, like the dawn
warming the frozen early hours.
Her hair, and smile, and tears
are mine,
Graven into my mind and heart;
so that I am not myself,
and have no wish to be.
Sounds
Slim waves lap on corrugated sand,
make deep music on a hollow sail boat
swirling along with the wind in it's hand;
a tumbling sound with a laughing note.
A church bell rings on a sleepy day.
It's round tones travel over fields and trees
where strong men glory in muscles at play
and look to their beer and their feet at ease.
Great music crashes in a concert hall,
Lifts to a crescendo on gigantic chords;
sinks to a sigh, a poignant rise and fall
as men hear their souls meet, with God's.
A small child gurgles as it's held up high.
The mother laughing and happy and warm,
watching it smile at her and the sky;
wondering that it can be so good to be born.
1956?
Questions
The sea is deep
and I am young again
dependent, upon a childish plane,
upon the quietness of sleep
for I am once more in pain.
I cannot sit in pleasant dreams
for my searching soul glides
to a place where it hurts inside
and my breath tangles with spirit beams
as my soul and burning flesh collide.
My body is a wave, sharp with zest.
It tumbles in hard salt youth
so that my mind in creeping stealth
turns upon itself in rest
to ask again, "What is wealth?"
I say, "My Bursar is my God,
and though my ocean is my own
I cannot drown the words that He has sown.
for He, and I, have bled
and it is I who have not grown."
But still I ask,
"Why is it that I weep?
Why is that You keep
my mind at this task?
Why is it that the sea is deep?"
MO'S March 1957
Awakening Life
And always in my waking
state
there will be a pain
for I am come from God
and must wait before
I see his face again.
I must wait through life
which is only half a life
without the serenity that His
presence gives.
I am tied by matter and
the earth
And though I like to live
I do not like the pain that
living without my love does give.
And as He is the one who
has most claim upon
my love - and He is
not here - I must always
be in pain.
But no! He comes to me again.
He comes to me in love and bread.
He fills me out with love
and mingles with my
pain.
So that gradually I
become at peace again,
and smile, for He, the Holy
Ghost (who is no ghost at all)
Wraps me in His self
and saves my fall.
1958
Antiphon
An ant saw a strange thing on a crazy day:
He saw God pinned to wood with savage nails,
Hoisted on high in a midday sky,
Bleeding flesh torn by thorns and flails.
An ant gazed in wonder at men standing by,
while from the top of a cross
God's deep eyes watched, until that last cry.
And the ant felt - slightly - just a bit - at a loss.
an ant saw God waiting to die,
while He looked at men, living and to come.
And the ant wondered - why?
Why was God hoisted up under the sun?
January 1959
To Jews
"Hear, O Israel! The Lord thy God is one
God."
So sang the prophets of old
filled with God's grace,
filled with the greatness of God.
"The Lord thy God is one great God -
One great God and good,
a God of mystery and power,
a jealously loving God.
The Lord thy God -
the Lord God of all creation,
Who is God - the one
and only God - of every nation.
God of beauty,
God of love,
God of majesty
- who has mercy on those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
God of Isaac,
God of Jacob,
God of David,
God of Jack Smith - who lives down the street.
It is in Him that Smith and Isaac meet.
And even I, who am nothing,
can learn to know him.
Even I, who am small ad weak,
can dwell in his peace and love,
my smallness overwhelmed in Him,
lifted up by Him,
Meek,
yet ennobled by Him,,
made one with him,
rejoicing in the greatness and goodness of Him,
living eternally in Him,
Small me, and you -
- us,
rejoicing in Him.
"Hear, O Israel!
the Lord thy God is one God!"
The cry echoes down the ages.
A deep, stentorian cry
containing the depths of God Himself -
who wages
war
on lies, and death and stealth,
Containing a priceless heritage for
my gentile soul;
making me, and all men, whole.
M .J. O'Shea 1959
Consolation
Those who sleep alone, with Christ, at night,
Are not called upon to requite
Any rapacious, self-filled lover's plight.
Only One to satisfy,
in cool, calm, collected love,
which burns in heart and mind.
No shrewish voice to whine,
at one's ear,
to pine for what is not.
Just one and One,
me and God,
and me thanking Him
for what I've got.
And that's not all!
Because of Him I become as God,
Loving my brother in His love,
peacefully drifting into the land of Nod,
(East of Eden - ain't that right God?)
united to the angels and the saints
- Chinamen and Greeks
- all sorts of bods.
The Husband's Lunch
Two or three sweet scones
that a neighbour has left in.
A tomato -
an egg, nearly hardboiled,
wrapped in wet paper
that sticks to it.
No salt.
Wrapped in an old cornflakes bag,
with a sniff as she ties a knot.
"It's good enough for him!"
Jesus,
where is my mother?
Michael O'Shea - 24 October 1984
1984 Christmas Card