Return of Oedipus

Return of Oedipus          P.J. Murphy

I gaze upon her from above
draped in aquamarine
her emerald eyes twinkle at me
Closer now, ever closer
Her verdant hue welcoming

My innocence returning
I marvel at her myriad
Shades and shadows,
Seductive woodland nymph
Swathed in leafy garland

Scent of pear and apple,
Wild mint and pine
Recall youthful encounters
in her mossy leafstrewn orchards
and pastoral verdant hills

With outstretched arms
And shamrock garland
She embraces me
My mother, my love
My Ireland

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Green' 


pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Potter's Field

Rome's Eagle, head of Melqarth
adorn these shekels of Tyre.
The legal price of a slave,
marked for purchase of sacrifice
but handed out for infamy.

Pale argentate moons lie randomly,
scattered in tormented anguish
by perdition's fated son
upon the floor of the temple
whence they treacherously came.

Silvery spring sun detects
metallic glint from halter buckle
swinging from a desolate bough,
reflects the lustre of thirty Tyre shekels
The price of a Potters field grave.

P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

( The 30 pieces of silver offered to Judas for his betrayal was significantly the purchase price of a slave. A despairing Judas threw back the shekels before hanging himself with a halter - the coins were subsequently used to purchase him a Potters Field grave )

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Silver' 


pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Sink or Swim? ( a Piscean fish tale )

I swim simultaneously
in both directions
a synchronized confusion
at once clear-thinking
and muddle-headed

It works.
Most of the time.

Thoughtlessness and compassion
compete, I feel deeply for those
less well off than I,
but have to force myself to remember
to actually do something

My love of music drives me (crazy...),
my laziness ensures mediocrity, at best
I strum and sing
And promise myself
I will learn the harder things.

Tomorrow.
Next week, at the latest.

My fertile imagination -
a breeding ground for grand ideas
which scuttle off of the page.
- once I've finally
found a pen.

Indecision my Nemesis.
So many great ideas
for things to make
friends and family happy.
Or would they?

But for my acceptance
of who I am
and who I'll never be
I would stop swimming
altogether.

And sink.
To the bottom.


This was another AllPoetry contest entry, one of a series of Astrological themes, this one being obviously "Pisces".

Who Are You?

You, you who wage this war
spatter children in the rubble
piss on your conquered enemy
torture and humiliate your captives
speak lightly of 'collateral damage'
while pieces of families
are fumbled from crumbled concrete
Consider this.

You are an accident of your birth.
It caused your allegiance to your country,
to the fundamentalism of your religion,
to a taught hatred of an enemy
whose birthright is also accidental
who hates and wants to kill you
because of where you live
and the God you believe in.

Strip away your flag.
Remove your pious garb.
Forget for a moment
Your ancestral dead.

Who
Are
You?

Opaque Resume

Unconsidered by the scornful young,
Who's eyes see only crimson, black and white;
Feared by the world-weary aging
To them a symbol of their mortal plight.

I am the shade of sense and reason
of tolerance and compromise -
Grey areas, which most ( whose narrow spectrum
shows but vivid colours ) despise.

I am the hue of contemplation,
The colour of the mighty sea at night
I am the shadow where events too
dangerous or nefarious to take place in light
are enacted by the courageous and the lost.

The dusk where clandestine lover's tryst
Unveils true beauty without distraction of surround
Enhanced with only ethereal mist.
I am the flawed or genius cell inside your brain,
the formless grey miasma of your dream.

I am the ash to which one day you will return
When tincture fades, and shades of grey redeem


P.J. Murphy
(c) P.J. Murphy 2005

Note: This was an entry for one of a series of Allpoetry.com contests with colour themes, this one being 'Grey'


pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Sinecure

He remembers a time
when he was the centre
of the circle.

A social hub, a club
close colleagues, no -
more than that -
firm friends...

Spontaneous
sojourns to the pub
on Friday evenings
...just for a quick one.

Rolling home
at Eleven-thirty
bursting with
camaraderie
and a full bladder.

A pleasant institution
in their voluntary
institutionalised
Public Service
sinecure

So hard to
stick a pin
in the point
of change

Drive.
Disillusionment.
Disinterest.
Dismissals.
Dispersals.

Deaths.


All leading toward
this unfamiliar place
sharing space with
strangers with names.

Hearty
hallos
in halls.
Hollow.

Next Friday
they will
toast his health
tell bawdy
half-remembered
stories, badly.

Exaggerate his
achievements.
Present him with
their heartfelt gift

( travel vouchers
he will never use -
he has no heart for travel
since he lost her.
How would they know? )

Monday
the alarm will ring.
He will turn it off
one final time.

He will accept
well meant
invitations
to future
Friday frolics.

Until
one Friday
the strangers
will have no names.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was an entry for an Allpoetry contest where the prompt was the line "strangers with names", and won the Bronze trophy for 3rd place in the contest

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

You Know Who I Am

Commanding the stage 

and the fine musicians 

bestowed with the honour 

of accenting your wisdom 

you spill your honeyed words 

into our eager consciousness s

erenely smiling like a holy man 

In your seventy-fifth year 

you sing your psalms and stories 

with the voice of a God 

but soothing now, no questions asked 

but an acceptance that there are no answers 

You were the crutch, t

he mainstay of my thoughtful youth 

a comforting validation 

that someone more austere than I 

could strip away veneer 

and see the sewers and the sunsets 

the sinner and the sainted 

and cosset them in blankets of words 

rendering them timeless 

Thank you, Leonard.

pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com

Bull

Ok, so we've
lied a little

They need our lies -
our reconstruction
of the fables
is what keeps them
hanging on to
the dream


The faithful.
Bless 'em.

Follow us
on the
fast-track
to Heaven


They swallow it all
- transubstantiation
( literally...)
the whole
omnipotent
omniscient and
omnipresent God
trichotomy

explained
expertly,
excursively...

ethically
morally
mystically


Divine Mystery

Say it often enough, it acquires substance
Two thousand years of repetition
create an article of faith most absolute
for those in fervent need of absolution


We make the world
a better place
as fear of Hellfire
and damnation
( did I mention 'Vengeful?' )
keep them in check -
a docile flock
the Good Shepherd
ensures
the silence
of the lambs

So we will continue
to fire our canon
at the ninety-nine
who suckle on it's
outpourings
perpetuated by this
Papal Bull.

Ah... Men...

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was an entry for an AllPoetry Contest "Take a step back ( Round 2 )" http://allpoetry.com/contest/2374596 and won Gold for 1st place


www.guitarsongs.info
www.pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com
www.guitar-chords.blogspot.com


Guitar Lessons+Guitar Tips+DVD Lessons+Voice Tutor+Piano Lessons
Poetry

Thanks

Thanks
For making me feel that my weaknesses
are part of my boyish charm
For lending me your arm
When my excesses get the better of me
For beaming your pride at my triumphs
And withering those who would demean them
For picking me up from my failures
Moulding them into moral victories

Thanks
For fashioning two precious daughters
from the warmth of our passion
Somehow passing me the credit
When all that was required of me
Was to love those images of you
Who, swathed in your young mother love
Knew nothing but to return bubbling affection
while my heart burst with pride

Thanks
For filling me with youth when I'm old
Finding the boy in the weary man
For blinding me with beauty
Which is no reflection of the past
But a new and vibrant vision
The pictured lover of my dreams
Beside me when I wake each day
A startling and a wond'rous reality

Thanks

Transplanted

Liquid eyes as dewdrops
on pinkening petal-cheeks
lips suffused, smolder with promises ;
intoxicating fragrances
permeate sepal, buds, corolla
of this exquisite Celtic bloom

The sanguine Spanish sun,
accustomed ever to smile upon
a well-stocked rose bed of it's own
reflects the radiant glory of an Irish rose
nurtured by it's balmy bounty
and has the grace to blush.


~~~~~~~~~


I am from Ireland, and this was written to my wife, whose beauty flourished and was burnished exotic in the warm and splendid Spanish sun - the fiery beauty of Spain, in its turn, was enhanced by her presence.

Sometimes you need to transplant a rose to a sunnier place to realise how very beautiful it is.

What Lies Beneath

Never terribly
far away, they
clamour constantly
to make their
presence felt..

Suppressed,
repressed,
bubbling
just below
the surface,
they jeer this
veneer of
stolid, solid
middle-aged
respectability

"Hush", I tell them
this is not
the time nor place
to show your face
and we are not
as young as
we once used to be

I guess
I'd always
just assumed
that they would
fade away and die
dissolving with
the remnants of
my long-lost
misspent youth

But no, they tease
and taunt and pester,
these ghosts of
rampant yesteryear.

"Someday", I promise,
"I will let you
out to play again".

And then, By God,
let the world beware...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Where the Wild Things Are"

.... And Hell Followed.....

They have been among us
for some time now
You could have passed
any of them in the street...

Discrete, they have been waiting, waiting
they flex an occasional muscle
independantly devastating
a portion of humanity
communicating transcendentantly
to apportion synchronicity
each one having wrought
a limited, controlled vengeance
without thought of consequence
cold, purposeful malevolence

Preying on the weak
playing on the weakness
of the lowest of mankind
to further bind their vile finality
our reality is that in a while, soon
they will fashion soul's destruction

Our sole defence is to commune
the forces of collective compassion
to pit the milk of human kindness
against mounted apocalyptic horses
and enemies of man, long recounted...
War
Pestilence
Famine
Death

P.J. Murphy
(c) 2005

www.guitarsongs.info Guitar Lessons+Guitar Tips+DVD Lessons+Voice Tutor+Piano Lessons Poetry

Nycola Murphy and Marc Hillis Wedding Celebration

My beautiful daughter Nycola married Marc, the love of her life, last Friday, August 21 2009.

I will be using this post to share video and photo moments from the day

So far, I have uploaded a 5-minute video of wonderful moments from the church ceremony, recorded and edited by Nyc's talented cousin Paul O'Brien, and a really poignant slideshow of magical moments captured by Paul's sister Linda. Also there is Cathal Beale's hilarious speech/poem, a clip of Nyc and the bridesmaids on stage for "The Promise", and a clip of their first dance, to "At Last".

August 28 - added a (very) amateur attempt to make a video montage from some of the snaps supplied by guests, with The Shins "New Slang" as backing track.

August 30 - added a clip of Marc standing in on drums for Jimi Hendrix' "Fire" with the fantastic "White Chocolate".

Sept 2 - added the brilliant "White Chocolate" first dance to T.Rex "20th Century Boy".

Sept 2 - added clips from Nyc & Marc Wedding - Part Deux, the fantastic session on the 'day after', featuring Cathal Beale's definitive version of Kings of Leon "Sex on Fire", and Phil's magical headbanging to the band's rendition of Rage Against the Machine "In the Name Of".

Sept 4 - added my "Father of the Bride" speech. Reluctantly.

Sept 5 - added another slideshow "I only have eyes for you"

Just scroll down to get into da groove....!

~~~

Paul O'Brien's video moments:

If you can't see the embedded video above, you can watch this on YouTube at Nycola and Marc Wedding moments with Arcade Fire "Wake Up" ~~~ Paul's sister Linda compiled a fantastic photo montage, in a video with Ben Folds "The Luckiest" as the background music. If this doesn't spring a tear to your eye, you have no soul! Linda captured exactly what Nycola and Marc wanted, unposed and natural images, with a gorgeous soundtrack. We've had to have the mop handy everytime this has been shown to family and friends. Again, if the embedded video doesn't display correctly, you can view the slideshow on MySpace at Nycola and Marc's Wedding - photo slideshow with Ben Folds "The Luckiest". This one comes with a warning - watch alone, and with a full pack of Mansize tissues. ~~~ At the reception, Nycola and the bridesmaids ( minus poor Sinead who had sustained a photo-opportunity leg injury early in the day ) threw some shapes to Girls Aloud's "Promise", this is a short clip of their slick moves: If this doesn't display properly, you can see it at this Nycola and Bridesmaids dance to "Promise" YouTube link. ~~~ This is the happy couple's first dance as husband and wife: Any problem, view it on YouTube at Nycola and Marc's Wedding - First Dance (At Last) I made my first attempt at creating a Windows Movie Maker Video using edited photos I got from some of the guests, with The Shins "New Slang" as the backing track: Get it direct from YouTube on Nycola and Marc Wedding: guests photos ~~~ Marc (Harvey) rocking it out on drums with the best wedding band EVER - White Chocolate with a cover of "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix. The YouTube video link is Nycola and Marc wedding - Marc drumming with White Chocolate ~~~ One of the songs on Nyc & Marc's signature wedding CD was The Flamingoes "I only have eyes for you". You have been playing the CD, havent' you??! Hopeless romantic that I am, I made a short video which tries to capture their 'special moments', with this song as the backing track. My 2nd attempt at Movie Maker, with photos supplied from Linda, Eileen, Liz, Marion and Sara. Keep the hanky handy... Unfortunately the YT thought police seem to have blocked this, if the embedded video above doesn't play, YouTube it here' Nycola and Marc - I only have eyes for you with a string version of the song which managed to get past the filter-monkeys. ~~~ Cathal, one of Marc's groomsmen had the crowd in stitches with his contribution to the speeches - a poem celebrating the many good times they've shared over the years: This is the text of Cathal's speech ~~~ I have to say, I've had really nice feedback on my own speech, despite the fact that I had Elvis "Shake-a-ma-leg" syndrome, and I was never gonna be able to put in words how magical it has been to be Nycola's father all of these years, nor how delighted I am that she chose Marc as her husband. But... embarrassing as it may be, this is what it sounded like: Again, it's on YouTube at Nycola and Marc wedding - Father of the Bride speech ~~~ The wedding band "White Chocolate" were a huge hit with all guests young and old, from the first song the crowd hit the dancefloor, and never sat down again! This is the band playing their opening song, a brilliant cover of T.Rex's "20th Century Boy". This clip is available on YouTube at: Nycola and Marc Wedding - White Chocolate play T.Rex "20th Century Boy" ~~~ As is the trend these days, it was a two-day wedding celebration. After brunch at the hotel, and ( for most ) an afternoon snooze, we'd organized a musical extravaganza for the Saturday night in the Wicked Swan, with Blue Moose providing the mainstay of the music, and multiple guest appearances by the hugely musically talented friends of the bride and groom. Here is Cathal (again) giving Kings of Leon a run for their money with his rendition of "Sex On Fire": Any problems, check it out on YouTube - Cathal rocks "Sex on Fire" ~~~ And, of course, the night wouldn't have been comple without Phil headbanging to "Rage" - 'In the name of'. Video clip courtesy of Becky ( just passing the blame here... ) Any problems viewing this, just go to the YouTube link at: Phil rocks Rage Against The Machine "In The Name Of..."

More soon!

PJ

Lumber Paralysis

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's  indifference." Elie Wiese



feigning oblivion
to sprawled
lifeless lumber,
fallen,  felled

Our limbs loft
rigidly erect
proud,  aloof,
upstanding

we gaze skyward,
haughtily avoid
awkward  vista of
wretch stretched

uncouthly oozing
sap solution
over  our exclusive
deep-pile carpet

If anyone
asks...

we  heard

Nothing.

( If a tree fell in the forest and everyone pretended not to notice, would it make a sound? Are bears catholic? Does the pope shit in the woods? )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Queen of Ghosts

Triumvirate Deity, exalted by Zeus,
Hekate Queen of Ghosts am I,
Goddess of moonlight and magick,
Protectress of the wilderness

In Phrygia and Lagina
devout acolytes pay homage yet;
the lost and the swollen pray
for safe deliverance; safe delivery

Favouring ever my faithful,
sorcerers and necromancers
beseech favour: howling hounds
herald my intercessions

Wary traveller lost, receives
Divine guidance at crossed road,
Titan torch throws illumination
to light the righteous path

Queen of the Night, traversing
that precipice betwixt the worlds;
nourished by obeisant offerings
lost souls I steer to Hades' haven

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, you been a naughty boy....

encouragingly
tho fragile
I have
not yet
cracked...


despite
scrambling clear
of a dozen
sizzling
attempts
including
some near-miss
crack squad
shell attacks

out of the firing line
into the (friendly) fire
bubbling in hot water,
hard-boiled

sitting ducks lay, while
the chicken's safe in it's coop

but

this will not
be over easy

Mister Bush

I am the egg man
There's a one-legged man
You have the war lust

goo goo g'joob...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Egg" 

pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com 

I'll have you to remember...

Through the heavy clouds of grief
The melodies still find their way
The voice ageless, sweet, comforting
The songs, old, familiar friends
Lifting heavy hearts in the long days
Lulling loved ones to weary sleep at night


The glittering trophies reflect the joy
In the hearts of all who heard her sing
And the deep pride of her loving family
Her rock of support for each performance
Marked with hushed respect while she enthralled
And rapturous applause when song was ended


'Sunrise, Sunset', 'Sweet Sixteen',
'When I grow too old to dream'
'Yidisha Mama', 'Summertime', 'Croce Di Oro'
Old songs, classic songs, sung by many
But imbued with her innocence of youth
And wisdom of age, assumed a new and vibrant life


Her family was her world, and now her legacy
Fine people, kind-hearted and compassionate
Filled with her spirit, strength and courage
Her music, the expression of her love for them
Truth rang timeless in every breath of her singing
It's echoes resound as long as there are memories

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Nan Cullimore (my late mother-in-law), her spirit and her voice live on.

Minstrel (Than Bauk Climbing Rhyme)

  
fingers pluck strings
soft he sings of
the things to come

bass notes hum low
with drumming sound
his queen crowned by

profound love rhyme
in waltz-time with
sublime soft voice

that his choice may
rejoice, her knight
croons of night tryst

by light of moon
they will soon be
in tune, as one.

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Climbing Rhyme", and won the Gold Trophy 

City Lights Fade

Inert gases
tout tawdry
titillations

Illuminate
paved paths
to hellish
haunts

Bad intentions
in sin soaked
stagnant pond

Lurid
invitations
dazzle -
guzzle,
gamble
drink,
debauch...

illicit felicity,
fun and frolic
unfurled in
neon netherworld

~~~

Disenchanted
denizen
forges Ford
forward
- final glance
at pallid promises -
- Gomorrah still
glows gaudy

Firefly flits,
points pathway
to reality,
to civilized
enlightenment

In rear-view
mirror
Babylon
burnishes
fainter,
ever
fainter

Along with
it's
delusive
dreams

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Errant Panther's Race - Round 3"

The Iceman Cometh

Pressing onward
through unbreathable
crystallized air
- feeling in
most limbs
long disappeared

Lower digits
blackened, inside
thick snowboots
- gangrenous concerns
pushed to back
of numbed
consciousness

Team-spirit
the driving force
- the team
unfortunately
reduced by one -
interred in icy grave
with scant
frost-hurried
ceremony

Ultimate destination
still several
hundred miles away
but driven, like this
frozen, solid air,
forced by Arctic winds
into reluctant,
pneumonic lungs,
they trudge
northward


Thoughts of home
- wives, children,
parents, friends -
pushed to backs of
tired, demented minds
focused on the quest
to forge claim to
a barren wilderness
- for a country
and a world
who could not care less..


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was written for an Allpoetry Contest "Moraine and Poganip", and won the Gold Trophy for first prize www.pjmurphypoems.blogspot.com