I Was Just Thinking

By Sean McDermott

An important collection by a superb talent reflecting the poet's world during the lockdown/Pandemic.This is Sean Mcdermott's first collection of poems, each one surrounding a single realization of a visual truth in action. The poems cascade outward in reckless examination of a moment, a memory, and then retreat toward resolution."During my solitude, I have taken a deep dive into personal history and common emotion. The poems deal with my thoughts on relationships, alcoholism, illness, music and escapism into memories and fantasy. The work is wrapped in a protective layer of reality and optimism...."- The Author"Sean's poetry makes you want to lock the doors, draw the curtains, curl up and draw yourself into the universe between your ears. But really, is that not what poetry is for?" David Berlin, co-founder and first editor Walrus Magazine, former owner and editor of Literary Review of Canada, author of over 100 articles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mosaic Press
• Release date: Nov 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781771616706

Book preview

Word

Sitting at the edge of the next word

Hoping that it fits just right

And matches the colour

And the sight of a thought

So it clicks in nice

Sitting beside the current of the

river of phrases that tell all

Waiting for erosion to rid the banks of

Fragments of thoughts

That don’t want to bend around mountains of mysteries

Solved by a sentence

That’s carved just so.

Take all the travels and faces and histories

Days that went on and on

Long conversations that

mined for philosophy,

Midnight at campfires

To waking at dawn.

Just for the chance to say

Something to someone

To capture the paint on a page

Heartbeat is slowing down

Mind opens wide

As the narrative makes its own way.

Land on the ground with beginnings and endings

And whispers of nothings that shine

All that was heard

As the words came aloud

Is that seeing and hearing is always believing

Courage will take the idea downstream

In the distance

Wherever it’s needed.

We

And they worked in their homes

And they sauntered their streets

And they stood apart chatting to strangers

who live two doors down

And they let their children

stay up later, and eat chocolate

And they looked in the mirror

and witnessed the distortion

of a lost sense of self-care.

And they did not know that all along

the raccoons and the squirrels,

the deer and the falcons,

the salmon and the perch,

were in their usual patterns

and typical goings and comings.

They didn’t know that the emptiness

was draining the anxiety from the tired earth

and there was a flourish here and there

on paths less trampled.

Good things were happening

just beyond the worry and the waiting.

We have been through a time together

They forgot pessimism

and found the desperate and lovely hope

that comes to the fed up and weary.

And they learned to stay in

and cook meals and play games.

And they listened some more

than they’d ever before

and put up with each other to soften the blow...

Of the hundreds of days

that had turned into months

Nowhere to go and nowhere to go.

Between Excuses

I fell madly, insanely in love

the moment there was a reflection

of a smile in her eyes, a sign.

Move forward, embrace me

Lean in closer, and kiss me.

But I was younger then

I didn’t know that I was talking to

myself and to others for acceptance.

I think of the lies, unaware alone

that the back and forth

was an exchange of boundaries,

breaking down, but I’m older now.

I cautiously stepped toward altering my mind

with alcohol and drugs.

Year after year swooning dangerously

with numbness and false bravado.

But I was younger then.

I had the eagerness for adventure,

to find the borders of fear, both fleeing from me,

and advancing with disdain.

How long is the ride?

How steep is the downward hill?

Those questions didn’t arise

until I was in a hospital bed

realizing the truth, that I’m older now.

The world that was mine,

held a cacophony of notes

arranged in dissonance,

a firing squad, hidden

in the smug faces of temporary friends.

But I was younger then.

I was alongside, dancing alone

>>

and finding the melody amidst the noise.

Wisdom carries the weight of regret.

I now feast on solitude and clarity

and the truth shining in people’s eyes.

But I’m older now, and quiet is a welcome sight,

simplicity a strength.

Concert

I see you there music

A clear pool up above

Shining under a bright light

Overflowing with colliding colours

of all shapes and sizes

Curved and sophisticated

Raw and sweaty and sexy I squint my eyes

and watch drops of heaven falling into my lap

through the cracks in the universe.

Making their long passage

from me to the microphone.

I hear you over there music

Calling me to change direction,

and miss the last train

Stay a little longer in the

swing and sway of your embrace

Forget the present and deep dive

into an ocean of notes,

arranged to turn my head

and remind me of scenes from an earlier life

Up the keys and back down,

encouraging me to be louder

quickening the pace, silencing me

I feel you at all times music

You have brought me to a calm setting,

when I needed to be alive

Swirling around, humming in my

dreams, play-acting with melody

There you are in the paintings, on the factory walls,

the hum of machinery,

the clang of regret, the last note of

happiness fading in the twilight sky

>>

We dance when I sing, cheek to cheek, arm in arm, old friends

trusting one another again and again

I could kiss you, you’re that close

Announcements

Daydreaming is allowed

Since evenings are stretched

The muscle of socializing lies

atrophied bruised and abandoned.

Who knew that time away

from those you love

would bring us much closer together?

Or that empathy would flourish

Little things could mean a lot

And hygiene is an option

somewhere between the land of clean

and the scrub brush of a burnt forest.

We sail with no wind out here

The rudder slipped from our palm

to the edge of our needy fingers

And then continued on in the

movement of a current

and the shaped wave from a past.

The sun rises, the sun flees

The clock moves to its own

non-sensical rhythm now and then.

I can watch dust ride on a lamp beam

Like skiers from the warm lodge

Floating downward here and there

Tiny moving particles that enlighten.

This quiet will not last forever.

We are prisoners unsure

of the notion of a release date

Yet silently we ponder parole

An early return to life in the old outside

>>

might seem like a pipe dream...

But hope is fresh basil on rice

and patience is a glass of lemonade.

Reminiscing about the future

should keep us, as one day passes.

Carry us back to our old homes,

so we can open our doors

and