Padraig O'Morain's Poetry Place
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Achilles in the farmyard
 
He set down a round of ash
with exact concentric rings,
quickened his mind, swung the axe
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Ancestors
 
We seldom speak of you in this house
where you stabled your plough horses.
You are that silence between sounds we rarely note.
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Another dreamer
 
The grocer sits and smokes behind his counter
- pock-marked lino top with tobacco burns -
explains to any listening idler
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The barn door
 
I shove the barn door. Half off its hinges, it pushes back.
Its face is implacable, like the face of an old Sioux chieftain
contemplating endurance, loss, my inadequacy.
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Benediction
 
​Sunday tomorrow. The house goes still.
Her father steadies himself at the basin,
foam like January snow on his face.
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The blue guitar
 
When the blue guitar came
your dolls had already
become strangers to your hands
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Bodies in the machine
 
He must have put in his nights in this chair 
in front of the Bakelite wireless and smoked 
while nettles clustered in his front porch ​
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The Calf Man

Three or four times a year a van drove into the yard,
the calf-man climbed out and unlocked the doors
to show to my father, who pretended scepticism,
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Dog Latin

Canis lupus familiaris. That’s dog
in Latin, he’d brag. Too bloody familiar,
she always threw back, resenting his mongrels
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The hairdresser pauses

The hairdresser stands behind me,
her hands flowing over my hair.
We could be under water

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The infant Jesus to his mother
 
I watched you pick up a feather
out the back, beyond the shed.
You smiled at it then hid it
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Jesus loves Angela
 
It began on the beautiful day,
that's what she called it, the beautiful day
an angel stopped her on the Newbridge road
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A Letter from John Morrin, Royal Airforce Base, Aden

                       Khormaksar, 28th October 1949.
The heat in this place thins the blood.
The doctor says watch out for colds
for six months after going home.
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Morning blessing
 
He flits from the butcher’s stall across Main Street
unbuttoning his beige coat. The usual need
drives him to Kelleher's discreet side-door
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The new calf

My father knots a rope behind the calf's hooves
  - only the hooves have come out so far - tells me: Pull!
The cow jumps and bellows, the calf seems to resist,
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A night out

They have made the effort all the same.
Spruced up in fresh, pressed clothes
in the beige of the Corrib Lounge
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Not talking

Since the final fight, details now forgotten,
when pride sealed up their hearts and mouths
they have made their own mute liturgy:
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Once off
 
On a burning childhood day
in that corner of a field
where our small, slow river
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The red heifer
 
The river field sinks into the dark,
raindrops drip from the slates of the cowshed,
the paper sprawls across the kitchen table,
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Salvation
 
The doctor's pleasure on Saturdays
was to drive out to the hotel
and behind its ivy-veiled facade
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Taking the plunge
 
The boy in the photo hangs above the Atlantic
like a drop of rain from the edge of a leaf,
paused in mid-air between diving board and water
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You've been great

A bronzed man pirouettes
on the TV in the corner
for his afternoon audience
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Watching you walk to work
 
I watch you walk down the South Circular Road.
In dappled shadows, leaves and sunshine
you seem to dissolve into dancing dark and light,
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With Niamh in Harcourt Street Children's Hospital
 
The intravenous drip machine doggedly
hums through the night,
breaks into fits of frantic ticks
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A woman runs along city rooftops holding her hat
 
She flits past blackened angels,
chimneys higher than houses,
walls heavy with wealth.
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Padraig O'Morain

I have been writing poetry since around 1990. My work has appeared in Irish and British literary journals and has been published as a collection in The Blue Guitar (Salmon Poetry, 2011) and previously in a short collection called You've Been Great (Smith/Doorstop, 2008) which won a Poetry Business prize the previous year. I have an MA in English and Creative Writing from Lancaster University.
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Books Published

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List of poems
All the poems here were published in poetry magazines (mostly print), in my collections The Blue Guitar (Salmon Poetry 2011) or You've Been Great (Smith/Doorstop 2008) ​