Our Life of Poems

By Sean Michael McCarthy

Within these pages you will find another 103 original pieces written by me between July 2017 and October 2019.
During this time, I lost my Father Michael McCarthy to the dreaded cancer as well as his sister and my dear Aunt, Shelagh Barnard, so I would like to dedicate this book to their memory.
Some dear friends have also suffered with loss and I have included many poems written for them, some at a request for a eulogy type piece.
Other poems were inspired by world events or just a photograph, [the latter usually inspired my war pieces].

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728394909

Sean Michael McCarthy

Our Life of Poems is the third and final works of my trilogy. In memory of my Dad Michael Frederick McCarthy and his big sister Shelagh Barnard, [McCarthy], of Merthyr Tydfil, [originally Beech Terrace kids]. I miss you Dad x If you missed my first two books, [My Life of Poems and Your Life of Poems], I have added a few examples from each book so you can maybe see how my style has developed, [for better or worse depending on your own taste]. I hope you enjoy and maybe find comfort as I know others already have and thank you all who have supported me and encouraged my writing these past few years. Next is my novel, too long on the back burner.

Book preview

Our Life of

Poems

Sean Michael McCarthy

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AuthorHouse™ UK

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone] (Domestic TFN)

[phone] (International)

© 2019 Sean Michael McCarthy. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/22/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9491-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9492-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-9490-9 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

1. Souls repent

2. Mind of Mayhem

3. Twenty eighty-two

4. My Heart Forgets

5. The Reaper thought

6. Always in

7. Reflect, your hesitate

8. Time of short amaze

9. Repent me let

10. Always, I’ll be there

11. Marbled row

12. Haunt of past

13. Such moments

14. Breeze on carry past

15. Old John my boy

16. Stab within the soul

17. Stand

18. Dreams in crumbled blow

19. Goliaths final pause

20. My marrows freeze

21. The last let go

22. Angels in my mind again

23. Fades another

24. This

25. Silhouettes of you

26. What moment

27. To heaven vowed

28. The World Through Rainbow Tears

29. Did You Know

30. Narcissists

31. Halo’s shine

32. Free again, be there

33. Lost in memories

34. Moments ponder

35. Steal away of dream

36. Drift as mist

37. Behold these eyes

38. You’ll

39. Give me just a moment

40. My child

41. What words

42. At last

43. Smothered woes

44. Such surround

45. Whirlpool

46. I’ll miss

47. It seems to be

48. Worries left at ease

49. July the first, this day

50. Blossom tree

51. Pushed on

52. Moments lost

53. Cratered pools

54. Corners of my mind

55. Today I found

56. Swirls within my mind

57. The trumpets call

58. Whispered call

59. This way of end

60. Horrors I have lived through

61. A loneliness of soul

62. Feather white

63. Such distant dream

64. Deepest ocean blue

65. What realms doth spirit float

66. No words have I

67. Yesterdays tomorrow

68. Shade of Angels wings

69. Stumbles to each stride

70. Carried whispers

71. Words to comfort you

72. At night in shadows dark

73. Are you there

74. Hides a photo

75. Never cease to be

76. Blown adversity

77. All we are

78. Your love, this day

79. Burnt low

80. Some words I’ve left

81. Silent final words

82. Piper lad

83. Outside the gates of heaven

84. Through eyes of tears

85. We’re not all the same

86. Fleeting thoughts

87. Max

88. Autistic mind

89. Sixth of June

90. Sensations

91. The sky reflects

92. Drag of me

93. Stole the summer sun

94. In two days’ time

95. Next doors kids

96. A beer with me

97. Stranger on the mantlepiece

98. Sunrise hesitate

99. Shadow to your eye

100. Moments being me

101. My son

102. A rainbow white

103. Fondness pulls

Our Life of Poems is the third and final works of my trilogy.

In memory of Michael Frederick McCarthy and Shelagh Barnard [McCarthy] of Merthyr Tydfil [originally Beech Terrace]. I miss you Dad x

Within these pages you will find another 103 original pieces written by me between July 2017 and October 2019.

During this time I lost my Father Michael McCarthy to the dreaded cancer as well as his sister and my dear Aunt, Shelagh Barnard so I would like to dedicate this book to their memory.

Some dear friends have also suffered with loss and I have included many poems written for them, some at a request for a eulogy type piece.

Other poems were inspired by world events or just a photograph, [the latter usually inspired my war pieces].

At the back of the book I have added some explanation to some of the writings to try and provide a bit of insight into my mind set when they were created. As always when inspiration arrives it is usually in one flow with just a bit of tweaking afterwards to correct spelling mistakes or grammar errors too loud to let slide under poetic licence.

I have also added some pictures along with the relevant poems number so you can see who it is I have written about/for.

Finally, in case you missed my first two books, [My Life of Poems and Your Life of Poems], I have added a few examples from each book so you can maybe get a taste and/or see how my style has developed, [for better or worse depending on your own taste].

I hope you enjoy and maybe find comfort as I know others already have and thank you all who have supported me and encouraged my writing these past few years.

Next is my novel, too long on the back burner.

1. Souls repent

How tortured is my souls repent,

regrets in scar so deep.

So dark in lonely hours spent,

past wrongs, for now, I weep.

Once sunshine days forever lost,

my temper burst brought cloud.

How heavy weighs the conscience cost,

heart cries, so sad, aloud.

The magic flow did me surround,

not seen, my distant stare.

Small children, joy of such astound,

the world was mine, right there.

I’m sorry for the times not had,

so many moments missed.

So selfish was my life as Dad,

how hindsight, hits, with fist.

Working days, working nights,

too busy for your games.

How blind I was to all the sights,

the guilt, and how, it shames.

Forgive me daughters, sorry son,

I rue the chances spurned.

My dreams all change the past now spun,

to put you first, I’ve learned.

I wish that I was there for you,

each night to tuck you in.

Your arms around as hugs you threw,

your gap toothed, happy grin.

Regret I do the times of scold, my

shouts of GET TO BED. Resist

so stubborn to gentle hold, those

hurtful words I said.

I hate myself for tears you cried,

when Daddy smacked your bum.

Forgive me Lord, this heart repents,

my haunt, those things, I’ve done.

Our days cut short by searching need,

my visits fast, so fleet.

Lost was I in selfish greed,

depart, your tears, would greet.

For those of you with children young,

take heed and listen well.

Such innocent through hearts is sung,

your future tears now quell.

Take the time and make the room,

grab precious moments all.

The all for granted and assume,

get rid, dispel, let fall.

Fill futures dreams with pure content,

leave satisfied your soul.

See every precious moment spent,

submerge your love in whole.

So dark in lonely hours spent,

past wrongs, for now, I weep.

How tortured is my souls repent,

regrets in scar so deep.

2. Mind of Mayhem

Inside my mind of mayhem rule,

my silent screams shout out.

Slows the heart in tired beat,

all life, seems turned, about.

So blunt the point of carry on,

why does my soul exist.

Sure was once my covered back,

now stabbed, your knife, deep twist.

How rainbows turn to black and white,

submerged by slow fade grey.

What goals, where’s love, why carry on,

lost will, to be, or stay.

Is this my lot of life reward,

does karma deem me done.

Hard this race, so long up hill.

no winning lines seem won.

I thought, by now, my world would be,

a crystal rose serene.

Each breath so sweet, like nectar drawn,

living, life, of dream.

Inside my mind of mayhem rule,

feel I, so incomplete.

Spirit weighed by heavy thought,

outlooks, low, downbeat.

Footprints trail in coloured sands,

my crystal towers to shard.

World of colour has crumbled dust,

battered, beaten, scarred.

This day to day of routine chore,

no end of shift reward.

The sit alone with vacant stares,

whiskey, alone, is poured.

My fingers count like tally sticks,

lost things I once enjoyed.

Empires built in loved surround,

abandoned and destroyed.

In distant fade like long lost dream,

remembers of once had.

How failed the feel inside of heart,

no shake of rid this sad.

Like winter storms that spring will end,

chin up, snap out, you fool.

Banish dark to corner hide,

my mind of mayhem rule.

3. Twenty eighty-two

The year is twenty eighty-two,

the world is piled in ash.

The last alive of flower blooms,

grows down, amongst, the trash.

The skies are locked in constant haze,

the scents all breeze with death.

Such silence in the windless tune,

no air, to catch, one’s breath.

Who treads no more to footprints leave,

the whole extinct of man.

How fated was this blueprint fall,

our fail, to see, the plan.

The year is twenty eighty-two,

the world is piled in ash.

How high we built our towers gold,

tumbled, shatter, crash.

The seas that lap in slow roll sludge.

once blue turned brackish grey.

So many bones of long picked clean,

upon, the shore, now lay.

The grassy streets in covered vine,

smashed glass of windows wink.

Desperate search with rancorous caw,

flock crow, eyes dead, on brink.

The year is twenty eighty-two,

the world is piled in ash.

Across the plains now desert dry,

the thunders, lightening, flash.

So great the storms of such immense,

plays dark like lost Macbeth.

Nothing lives, survives, exists,

all born, meet sudden, death.

All shadows grey with crumbled dust,

rainbows shine black brown.

Turned powdered white in blink of eye,

burning, end, brought down.

The year is twenty eighty-two,

the world is piled in ash.

A war to end all wars has been,

the world, a ruined, smash.

How stupid were these