Sunday, January 31, 2010

Passion


"Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before."
-Imogen Heap, 'Hide and Seek'


Passion. It's been my favourite word in the English language for as long as I can remember. It's the driving force behind the grandest accomplishments, greatest works of art and the most beautiful expressions of the heart imaginable. It can raise buildings, bring bodies together and turn dreams into reality.

I wrote this last year. At the time I wasn't featuring my own writing on my blog so I didn't post it but I remembered it recently, so here it is...

Passion


"Passion can be your greatest ally or your worst enemy.
It'll lift you up then turn around and tear you down within seconds.
Passion can fill your heart until it swells, or break it until you question whether it will ever recover.
It can push you to do things to appear a hero in someone's heart, or make them endlessly doubt your motives.
It'll make you feel higher than any drug, yet bring you to a place where you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.
Passion is the Soul's child, forever needing, forever hungry.
It is a living, breathing, seductive beast that will embrace you but consume you if you let it.
It'll breathe life into you, then mercilessly draw your last gasp without warning.
Passion is as vital as air, and I can't breathe without it."
 
 
Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.

The Pretender



The Pretender


Strut with false bravado
Sure to catch their eye
Flash your Cary Grant persona
As you slowly pass them by.

Who’s your victim this time,
Falling for your game?
Her aspirations, fears and hopes
As incidental as her name.

Pray the in-crowd notices
With her draped upon your arm
Alone corrupt her innocence
With coy, pretentious charm.

Sell yourself just to impress,
Brag of a prowess you’ll never possess,
Break everything around you
You strain for that sound
In the backseats
And heartbeats
That you knock around.

And you treat their dreams like playthings
And you drop them without care
Beneath your three ring circus tent.
As you juggle them in the air.

Then light those taunting shadows
That fill your silent home
Believe nights of broken promises
Beat sleeping all alone.

But when the doors close behind you
And your darkest night sets in
The only empty space inside this house
Will be the one that lies within.



Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Through Your Eyes



Through Your Eyes


Someone leaves your life. Do you cry because those times have ended or smile because they happened?
The sun shines. Do you cover your eyes or bask in its warmth?
A baby cries. Do you cover your ears or rejoice in life reborn?
Clouds thunder. Do you run for shelter or wait to play in the rain?

Do you eat up life or do you let life consume you?
 
 
Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

My Favourite Chemistry Lesson



My Favourite Chemistry Lesson


Eyes lock across a room
Two entwine in silent dance,
Synergy
Energy
Chemistry at a glance.

Hormones
Pheromones
Embrace with this attraction,
Brain synapses fire
In neurological reaction.

Colours fill your eyes,
Blur your mind as you hold close.
Dopamine
Amphetamine
The rush, flushed skin exposed.

Longing, aching, trembling
Until release leaves you warm
Desire
In its most primal and purest form.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved. 
Do not reproduce without permission. Photo credit: "Disturbed Synapses" by waugh 2004-2009. All rights reserved.  Link here.

Released



Released


What goes on in your good-girl mind
Hushed from temptuous thought and deed,
As if being done a favour.
“Please do tell me how to act," they think to hear,
"For I know not what I want.”
Oh, if they only knew of the strength of your desire
To unfurl your wings in their midst
And fly untethered.

But when night visits and your thoughts play alone
And you drift, freeing your will from another’s grasp
What do you dream as your eyes weigh heavy?
While The One beside you sleeps.
Do you welcome another to your door ,
To your bed?
Do you breathe his breath as your own,
Heart against heart
Feeling his life inside you.
Writhing beneath the weight of his mass,
Giving in to that beautiful release.
Breathless body strewn across crumpled sheets,
Spent, used,
But blissfully fulfilled.
And again.

And the hours pass unnoticed,
Their birth and decay measured only
In reckless heartbeats
Teeth-torn wrappers scattered around you.
Fading droplets in your glass.
This moment a lifetime.

All too soon the sun greets your window
And The One stirs,
Signalling a return to your world.
Accompanied, yet alone.

What goes on in your good-girl mind
What shadows lurk, what secrets to find?
Would you surrender yourself
For one night of sin
When the wind blows through your door
And the wolf creeps in?



Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

The Embrace


The Embrace


I called
You did not answer.
Not right away, not in words.
Your mind was elsewhere.
Perhaps with the one
Who came before me,
Perhaps in that place we exist
In those magical few seconds
Before sleep takes over
And brings with it visions
Of things we dare not betray.

You spoke my name
Carried through the breeze on a sigh,
Stopping only to rest upon my ear.
I turned and there you were,
Your breast pressed against me
Felt your warmth, your rise and fall.
Breathless.

"Where were you?", I asked,
Relieved by your presence.
"I've been with you all along," came the answer
"Here," your hand resting upon my chest.
I pulled you in,
Vowed to keep you close
And kissed your soul,
As you had mine.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved. 
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Right Now


Right Now


Right now a young couple is trembling nervously in the back seat for the first time.
Right now someone is taking his last breath.
Right now she’s picking up the groceries she just dropped.
Right now someone's had a bad car accident.
Right now a girl is brushing herself off and getting back on her bicycle.
Right now you’ve temporarily forgotten about that big bill you’re wondering how to pay.
Right now a life has been created.
Right now she's wondering if she should reveal how she feels about him.
Right now he’s just proposed. She's thinking about it.
Right now the sun has set over the Great Barrier Reef and we missed it because we're at our computer.

Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, every imaginable aspect of life is unfolding all around us. It’s relentless and our opinions or excuses won’t change it. Right now something could happen that will affect your life forever. Will you be ready when it happens? Will you be able to say that you’ve lived as you planned to, as you want to, or have at least taken steps in that direction?

Call that person you’ve been afraid to. Write the story you’ve been meaning to get around to “some day”. Tell that someone how much they mean to you. Take a chance and stretch out of your comfort zone.

Because right now is all we have.
 
 
Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Life's Music



Everyone’s life is a song that needs to be heard.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Searching

                                  

Searching

In evenings we find solace,
With sunrise, hope.
In seeking recognition we find humility.
By admitting weakness we discover strength.

In times of trauma we’re reborn.
Through introspection we seek to understand,
But are met with unanswerable questions.

In seeking to know others we discover wonder
And in so doing, find ourselves.

 
Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Rose



If I could plant a rose every time I thought of you the world would be a garden.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

vignette- Saturday Morning Cafe


Danielle set the overflowing mug of latte on the table and nestled into ‘her’ comfy chair, in the corner of her favourite local cafe. She had always thought of this place as quaint, a word not used often these days but still somehow perfectly describing the atmosphere and charm it held. She had recently made a routine of coming here every Saturday morning. In actuality there was no point; she had an espresso machine in her apartment and was more than capable of making whatever she wanted. But the shop was comforting in its familiarity and besides, she reasoned, a single girl in her twenties needs to get out if she's to ever meet someone.

Pulling the novel from her purse she rested its worn cover on the table’s edge and opened the bookmarked page, briefly allowing her eyes to sweep through the room. The cafe was surprisingly busy this time of morning. Her eyes were half-turned back to the book when she spotted him. Danielle had seen him here each Saturday around this time, which perhaps was a large reason for her continual return. Impeccably dressed in business attire, she couldn’t help but wonder what he did for a living. Executive? Salesman?

Whatever the case, the laptop always occupied a good amount of his time. This morning as any other he was fixated on the screen, which allowed her the usual time for stolen glances. The kind accompanied by quick aversion of our eyes when the subject of our attention looks our way, should (God forbid) they ever notice our interest. Their eyes had never met yet she couldn’t help but wonder if he played the same coy game, and was as skilled as she at not being obvious. Danielle grinned, fully knowing that without this distraction she would have finished the novel long ago.

No matter.

She lazily sipped on the hot drink, awash in morning sun as it came around and began gently streaming through the window. This was her favourite part of the day, a chance to enjoy some quiet solitude before the reality of chores, errands and phone calls intruded.

Only this morning was different. Because with one careless glance, one glimpse too long, this man who had remained elusive for so long looked up and met her eyes with his.

Oh crap! She froze, just long enough to catch his smile before quickly turning feigned attention to her book. She was afraid to look back up, a million thoughts running through her head. ‘What did that mean? Was he even looking at me? Of course he was stupid, you’re sitting in the corner. There’s no one behind you.'

From the corner of her eye she caught his form as he closed the laptop and rose from the table. Making his way towards her, he turned not towards the door but instead to where she was sitting, and before Danielle knew it he was before her. This couldn’t be happening.

He leaned in.

"I wouldn't normally say this but..."

The anticipation of words to come hung in the air for an eternity. She wanted to clutch her chest, almost afraid he'd hear her heart racing. She stared into his eyes, embarassingly lost in the depth of blue gazing back at her. He moved in closer still. God he smelled good.

"You have some foam on your nose," he grinned, then slowly disappeared through the door.

Danielle slunk into the chair, exhaling silently for no one else to hear,

"Shit".


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission. Photo taken by me.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

vignette- Saturday Morning Cafe (alternate ending)


Danielle set the overflowing mug of latte on the table and nestled into ‘her’ comfy chair, in the corner of her favourite local cafe. She had always thought of this place as quaint, a word not used often these days but still somehow perfectly describing the atmosphere and charm it held. She had recently made a routine of coming here every Saturday morning. In actuality there was no point; she had an espresso machine in her apartment and was more than capable of making whatever she wanted. But the shop was comforting in its familiarity and besides, she reasoned, a single girl in her twenties needs to get out if she's to ever meet someone.

Pulling the novel from her purse she rested its worn cover on the table’s edge and opened the bookmarked page, briefly allowing her eyes to sweep through the room. The cafe was surprisingly busy this time of morning. Her eyes were half-turned back to the book when she spotted him. Danielle had seen him here each Saturday around this time, which perhaps was a large reason for her continual return. Impeccably dressed in business attire, she couldn’t help but wonder what he did for a living. Executive? Salesman?

Whatever the case, the laptop always occupied a good amount of his time. This morning as any other he was fixated on the screen, which allowed her the usual time for stolen glances. The kind accompanied by quick aversion of our eyes when the subject of our attention looks our way, should (God forbid) they ever notice our interest. Their eyes had never met yet she couldn’t help but wonder if he played the same coy game, and was as skilled as she at not being obvious. Danielle grinned, fully knowing that without this distraction she would have finished the novel long ago.

No matter.

She lazily sipped on the hot drink, awash in morning sun as it came around and began gently streaming through the window. This was her favourite part of the day, a chance to enjoy some quiet solitude before the reality of chores, errands and phone calls intruded.

Only this morning was different. Because with one careless glance, one glimpse too long, this man who had remained elusive for so long looked up and met her eyes with his.

Oh crap! She froze, just long enough to catch his smile before quickly turning feigned attention to her book. She was afraid to look back up, a million thoughts running through her head. ‘What did that mean? Was he even looking at me? Of course he was stupid, you’re sitting in the corner. There’s no one behind you.'

From the corner of her eye she caught his form as he closed the laptop and rose from the table. Making his way towards her, he turned not towards the door but instead to where she was sitting, and before Danielle knew it he was before her. This couldn’t be happening. He leaned in.
"You may not know this, but..."

The anticipation of words to come hung in the air for an eternity. She wanted to clutch her chest, almost afraid he'd hear her heart racing. She stared into his eyes, embarassingly lost in the depth of blue gazing back at her. He moved in closer still. God he smelled good.

Mr. Dreamy gently scooped up a tuft of foam that had dripped down the side of her mug, playfully placing it on the tip of his nose.
“…it looks like we have something in common.” 

Big smirk.

“Oh God.” Danielle whispered, mortified. She cupped one hand over her mouth and wiped it off. “I feel so stupid.”

“Not at all. You look better in latte than any woman I’ve met.” He grinned; she definitely possessed a certain charm. Gesturing toward the chair across from her he placed a hand on its back. “May I?”

The request caught her completely off-guard. “I thought you were leaving.”

“Doesn’t seem that important anymore” he replied, resting his laptop on the table. “I’m Robert...”


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo taken by me.

Matters of the Heart



Sometimes the heart isn't deep enough for differences to be buried.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Elusive


Elusive

You are the sky
Full of wonder
No beginning, no end.
I breathe you,
Yet you remain hidden from my eye.

White feather flutters, falling through your breeze
Ever elusive.
Not meant to be captured,
Not held in my grasp
But merely desired as it dances upon you
To be carried back to the one
Who set it free.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.

Friends

                                              
A good friend is someone who makes sense of what the heart cannot.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission. Photo credit here.

Brooklyn


Brooklyn

Moonlight bathes these worn tenements
Gray clouds receeded, marking rainstorm’s pass.
And I in torn faded jeans,
Weathered guitar resting in lap,
Keep vigil upon this towering web of stairs.
Your fire escape Romeo,
Futilely awaiting your return.

Was a time we'd have torn the roof off this place to get to each other,
Evading your father’s watchful eye
Mother’s vehement stare.
Chasing dreams like yellow cabs
We lived to make every corner a memory,
Stealing kisses and so much more
Down every backstreet we ran.

But those days have faded
Like neon signs in familiar places,
Having long since closed their eyes.
Where did we go?
Fell in love with a picture we painted
Of our lives together
Like watercolours on the sidewalk
Washed away
When the storms grew too strong for us to repress.

Light fog now rolls down this alley,
Ghostly shadows playing through billowing sidewalk steam.
And here, bathed in dim streetlights’ glow,
Awash in mist and memories,
I’ll sit and wait for you forever
In Brooklyn.

Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Perspective

                                                   

It takes as much effort to criticize life's ugliness as it does to celebrate its beauty.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

vignette- After Hours




“Does it ever get any easier?” the stranger sighed, staking claim beside me at the bar.

“It’s been a long day," she said. "A long, tiring day."
Letting her bags fall to the floor she kicked off her heels, reaching to rub ankles sore from hours of boutique therapy. But Jimmy and Louis couldn’t take the place of the one who left, his toothbrush still by the sink, few shirts left behind with cologne forever lingering. Pillow empty.

She flagged down the bartender and ordered her favourite Chardonnay, following the ritual of thousands who had come before. “Not much point” she thought, knowing she had drunk too much of this man to ever wash him from her veins.

Swirling the elixir in her glass, mesmerized by its dance she pensively tilted her head towards me, sweeping away a strand of hair covering one eye.

“So what’s your story?”
“It’s all good,” I feigned.
“It’s never all good” she prodded, breaking into a knowing grin.
“Not much to tell,” I answered evasively. “I just came here to unwind.”
After all, why give her even more to think about?

No names given throughout our conversation, none needed- I knew her all too well. The disillusioned heart, the restless mind. Second-guessing everything said or left unsaid. All forever regretted.
Downing the rest she glanced at her watch.
“Well this is me,” she announced and seemingly in one swift movement slipped on her shoes, collected her bags and with a smile was gone.

I silently wished her well, knowing that when my glass was empty and I’d left this place, our seats wouldn’t be still for long. Same scene, same stage.
Different players.



Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.

The Heart's Eye



The photographer reveals not what catches their eye, but what captures their heart.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

She




She

Heart of a woman
Soul of a child,
Her shyness worn like a silken veil.
Sometimes sheer,
Sometimes concealing.

Innocent yet self-aware
She tosses playful glances over her shoulder,
Interest betrayed
By sunset's whisper
In her eyes.
Alluring
Inviting
Captivating

Intoxicating.

Tempering curiosity with restraint
She cannot mask her inner Self,
So deliciously sweet
I can taste her in my mind.



Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.
Painting titled 'Reflecting' by Steve Hanks. All rights reserved.

Thirst



Thirst

When the day weighs heavy
And I thirst for inspiration,
I stand before you
And drink you in.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission. Photo credit here.

Nightsong


Nightsong


The sun asleep
Through midnight's chill
My head laid
Upon pillow still
My inner shadows calm.

Curtain flutters
Through careless window
And carried
On a whispered breeze
Your voice comes to me in a Nightsong.

I'll comfort you,
Wrap my words around your naked soul.
As we lie entwined,
Our hands building reasons
To hold off the dawn.

But dawn soon awakes
And paints the canvas of the morning sky
With broad strokes of brilliant fire.

Careless window invites the day.

Shimmering rays of gold
Dance in celebration.
Shadows play
Upon thin sheets that cling to your form.
You stir,
Turn and smile.
And I know
This is where I belong.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Veiled




Veiled


May I be this bold
To chip away a piece of mortar
In the wall
Which surrounds you,
That I may peer in just a little
And let the light
Melt away
Some of your darkness.

Your glance betrays
Guarded secrets;
How you answer ghosts
Who call your name.
Your Self
Is your strongest weakness.

Still by your side I'll sit,
Take your hand in mine
And read of your life untold
While I wait
Patiently
For you to become
Who you are.


Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

All I Wanted




All I Wanted


Was a time
Warmed by whispered breezes
Sunrise with you by my side.

Moonlit skies
Blissful nights wrapped up in you, when
You were all I had.

Through all my days
Your stained glass window coloured rays
Of love rained down on me.
Rained on me…

But now you run
Hope something maybe someone
Fills that space that burns inside.

All that’s left
A thousand words unspoken
Lying broken at my feet.

And all you were
And all that I imagined
So much more than you could see.

To let you know
Was all I ever wanted.

Looking back
I never thought that it would be so
Hard to let you go.

Memories
Those pictures have all shattered
Lying scattered at my feet.

Held on too long
I fell too far, you flew too high
To ever come back down.

To let you go
Was all you ever wanted
All you ever wanted.

To have you near
Was all I ever wanted
All I ever wanted...

And you’re not here.


I remember
Those days in my life
You were music
You played for me………



Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea. All rights reserved.
Do not reproduce without permission.  Photo credit here.

Innocence



Never am I more aware of my own innocence lost than when I gaze into the eyes of a child at Christmas.


 
Intellectual property copyright Barry O'Shea.  All rights reserved. 
Do not reproduce without permission.