petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: January 2009
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2009_01_01_archive.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Saturday, January 3, 2009. Well, not a bad year all told on the writing front. The highlight for me was definitely winning the Strokestown International Political Satire Competition with "The Poverty Trap." Honestly it was like the Oscars and the shock when Margaret Hickey announced my name was only too genuine. I had a smile permanently attached to my face for a week after that! My Musings column continued in "The...
petesholidaypoems.blogspot.com
Pete's Holiday Poems: Dragonfly
http://petesholidaypoems.blogspot.com/2008/10/dragonfly.html
A series of light verse written by the pool on various Summer holidays. Wednesday, October 1, 2008. The massive purple dragonfly. Sat humming by the pool. He was an inoffensive guy,. Just trying to keep cool. Then Emmet sent a tidal wave. Of water ‘pon its head,. And though we tried our best to save. Him, Dragonfly was dead. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Buy now €10. If dedication required, please detail. View my complete profile. History of the Republic of Ireland Football team. Pete's Sci Fi Verse.
scifipoems.blogspot.com
Pete's Sci Fi Poems: October 2009
http://scifipoems.blogspot.com/2009_10_01_archive.html
Pete's Sci Fi Poems. A collection of my poems that vaguely fall into the heading of Sci Fi. Monday, October 26, 2009. This was it, she thought, cradling him in arms. That would never hold another. The sun. Beat down on the last of the old yeast farms,. Now mouldy. She sobbed and glanced at the gun. That they had primed and left. The burden bore. Down on her shoulders. Was it the right. Thing to do, or should she allow the night. To swallow her up, the natural law? But did it matter? No-one left to judge.
shelsineurope2004.blogspot.com
Shels in Europe 2004
http://shelsineurope2004.blogspot.com/2007/09/pilgrimage-to-knock-bus-departs-at.html
Shels in Europe 2004. Back in the Summer of 2004, Shelbourne FC, Ireland’s representatives in the Champions League, went further in the competition than any club before or since. Okay, not a long run by English, Spanish or Italian standards, but in the context of Irish football, a veritable odyssey. Sunday, September 2, 2007. The bus departs at eight o’clock,. And booking is essential. The annual pilgrimage to Knock. We’ll go around the church three times,. And when the church bell slowly chimes,. In lat...
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: March 2008
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2008_03_01_archive.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Tuesday, March 4, 2008. It’s time to go, Larbowski thought,. As yet another jet of steam. Shot just outside the spaceship’s port. He tried to catch a fleeting dream. That flickered somewhere in his mind. The purple ocean fizzed and crashed. Against this island ill-defined,. As soot rained down and lightning flashed. This continent, this vast domain,. Where exploration first was urged,. Had shrivelled to a tiny grain.
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: Weed
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2009/05/weed.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Tuesday, May 5, 2009. Is this a plant or is’t a weed? My tender fingers feel the stalk,. Caress the leaf. Should I just walk. Away and not commit the deed? My trembling hands begin to baulk. Did I once plant this living seed? Is’t better to pull out a plant. Or give a weed its murd’rous head. To strangle others in their bed? Once done, ‘tis too late to recant. No wonder God shrinks back with dread. I give a scowl.
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: July 2009
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Thursday, July 30, 2009. As we had planned,. The pyracantha grew and, sprawling,. Blocked out the breeze block back wall. Of our square suburban home. So high it stretched,. That it threatened to blot out. The early morning sun itself,. And I suggested, one evening, from the sink,. That it needed its wings clipping. Child of the blackened chimney,. Surveying his new leafdom. Like a benevolent dictator. Lolloping ov...
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: November 2008
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2008_11_01_archive.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Tuesday, November 4, 2008. The focus always on the eagle’s nest. That lies atop the frost-cracked mountain tree,. The pathways to the peak are thus progressed. Acquire the things to lead you to your quest. Plain learning holds that old and rusted key,. The focus always on the eagle’s nest. Prepare to see your fur-clad mind undressed. Through nakedness that causes shame to flee,. Beyond the door, the void is manifest.
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: February 2009
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Monday, February 9, 2009. The ballad of Mabel McCartney. As the richly scented crocus. Craned its neck towards the sky,. It was difficult to focus. On the world beyond the gate. Through the window darkly shattered,. Mabel trained her watered eye. On the garden, brown and battered,. Set before her on a plate. They’d not spotted him come running. As they fled across the street. As the bank’s alarm bells rang. Out now...
petesseriousverse.blogspot.com
Pete's Seriouser Poems: The pyracantha
http://petesseriousverse.blogspot.com/2009/07/pyracantha.html
Occasionally I try my hand at serious poems though somehow I don't think this is my forte. Thursday, July 30, 2009. As we had planned,. The pyracantha grew and, sprawling,. Blocked out the breeze block back wall. Of our square suburban home. So high it stretched,. That it threatened to blot out. The early morning sun itself,. And I suggested, one evening, from the sink,. That it needed its wings clipping. Child of the blackened chimney,. Surveying his new leafdom. Like a benevolent dictator. February 22,...
