Poetry of Existence

All Hallows Eve



Day flashes early

in sun and wind

I reluctantly meet it

for ancestor visits

on All Hallows Eve

still lay claim

to mind and soul

but our common yarrow

in a universal ironic nod

invites me

to take memory of

night parents

for a daytime walk.


Along the road

fall leaves gather


in a uniform line

under command of nature

like cavalry ready for battle

mark the border

between now

and then.



Rose sage delivers a scent

pungent recall

of dream sequences:

two spirits

Mother and Dad

in the same space

together but apart

as before

I a witness

        the exiled Irish child

of a world

 breaking my heart again.



My steps befriend

mountain air

         nourished by seeing

snowberry and grape soda

in bloom

         choral bells sing

of life given freely

by two

who made love

         to make six

                  to make art.



Why now

in November dreamy darkness

         their visit

as I sleep

why not then

         when breath of life

could shed light

         how comes

this belated presence

to stir awake

         fond myths

                  old stories

                           new questions.


Silver maple

waves gently to me

as I find my way

         the conundrum

swept away in space-time

cascading into moments

         of insight

buried innocence

         to hold for an instant

         then         let fly

                           with hummingbird.

                                                                 Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach

                                                                 All Saints Day November 1, 2011

Untitled (After Yo Yo)


I dance

to keep pace

with self and

            time’s condescension

to my existence


Cello warns

not to stop

Violin whips a

            frenzy of memory

when movement


all my sense of worth


Wine voices

stir alive

            fiddle’s drunken nights


sober days


Shame has

no place now

            for sound forgives

bent dreams

rigged hopes


Mandolin sings

of pleasures

places not visited

            themes of

youthful expectation


Pride of age

succumbs to

its present mind

a museum relic

            to be cast aside

maybe cherished?


I dance

I move

            to end the mystery of meaning

the search

that never ends


Bows bow

sensing dignity

in the idea

            of being human


            in the moment

an act of love

Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach                                     

December 11, 2011

Keep Going


Don’t wait

for the clock to tick

the bell to ring

the alarm to sound

the buzzer to buzz

Get going!


Don’t wait

for the tap on your shoulder

the smile that’s a frown

the rain of tears

the ups mostly down

Get moving!


Don’t wait

for the postman to stop

for the invite to arrive

the dream to end

the cork to pop

Get loving!


Don’t wait

for the crowd to cheer

the flowers to die

the wine to age

the cortege to go by

Get living!


Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach    

November 8, 2004