As a prospector
Searches his tray for riches
Waves pan the foreshore
And ev'ning sun transforms dunes
Bars of gold along the beach.

tanka by Martin O'Neill
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The wind is waiting...

The wind circles
Waiting in the branches
To sweep the stones
Clear of leaves
When I depart.
For now though,
It shows respect
As do I.
Respect for a life
A time and love
And the heartprint
You left behind.

In the sunlight-
A tear, falling.
A gift of thanks
For being.
Rest in peace.

poem by Martin O'Neill
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Around the square

A shopping shark shimmers
In the city centre seize
Picking off the bargains
With a practised, fluid ease

Plastic card whispers
As designer bags fill
Parades her Prada handbag
Like a hunter with his kill

A Starbucks and a breather
On the corner of the square
Sips a skinny latte
And restyles a wayward hair

Then uncurls from her table
Like a languid, waking cat
Adjusts her perfect hemline
Shakes a sunbeam from her hat

[...] Read more

poem by Martin O'Neill
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A small thing

Rewind, if you will,
Here, I'll help, hold my hand as
We walk with the Gods across
The vastnesses of existence to
A small, blue world where
Creatures live, fight, are born
And die. In their numberless hordes.
Wave on wave, repeating whilst
The galaxies move in the void and
The small, blue world spins
Round it's lifegiving sun, where
One of the creatures dies
And sinks to the bottom
Of it's ocean. Here to lie as
The planet breathes, evolves and
It's surface moves, land appears,
Disappears and falls again.
New creatures are born, evolve
Are made extinct,
And replaced again.

[...] Read more

poem by Martin O'Neill
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