Sack 'em all

 Sack 'em all

Sack 'em all, sack 'em all

The Tories with stories so tall

Sack all the liars and all truth deniers

Let's see the whole bloody lot trip and fall

Let's be saying goodbye to them all

The Tories with taxes so small

Sack the promoters, place trust in the voters

Cheer up and take down the red wall

Mike O'Leary - January 2023

A short burst of optimism prevailed 

Bless 'em all is the tune in your head as you read it.

Peruvian Hat

 Peruvian Hat

I'll pack a few things for the beach

Shall I wear my alpaca hat?

I do feel the cold in my head these days

It'll be warm enough in that

Not the weather we'd hoped for

When we planned our trip abroad

No South American sunshine

In the package we could afford

We walked the sands without afternoon sun

Wrapped up, well enough to cry

Looking for fossils and shells I saw one

That immediately caught my eye 

Look at this George

Well fancy that

If I'm not much mistaken

It looks just like my hat

Well the treasure you hold in your hand

Resplendent in all it's glory

Is called a Peruvian hat

And that's not just my theory

You can see how it got it's name

It looks like it's made to be worn

On the head of a native of Cuzco

Dark silken locks to adorn

It's just the right shape

With it's ear muffs as well

I know my sea shells

Though I say so my self

Put it somewhere safe

Let's see if we can see some more

It's a sea shell you don't see selling

On the sea shore that's for sure

Is it worth a lot of money then?

Is the dalai llama from Peru?

No he's from Tibet George

Mike O'Leary - 2015

One of the first poems I wrote in Steve O'Connor's group. I think we were given a topic and about 10 or 15 minutes to come up with a poem.

He couldn't disagree more

 He couldn't disagree more

I used to drink with a guy 

Who thought he was being clever

He was never prepared to admit

That anyone ever knew better

His attitude passive aggressive

His jokes had serious intent

He always said he was joking

We all knew what he meant

He had a serious addiction

Competitive to a sin

If there was a prize

For the unhealthiest mind

No doubt he would want to win

Mike O'Leary - April 2020

Pyramids

 Pyramids

Pyramids pasted on board with

Pharaohs planning escape

Images of Ancient Egypt

Inspired by geometric shapes

Colours setting their space in a

Coagulation cascade

Triangles crossing tramlines in a

Theatrical backdrop parade

Undulating rhythms rocking in

Underground waves of 

Rouge and denim washes

Rudiments of jazz and rave

Ecstatic with rhythm in time

Ekphrastic awash with colour and rhyme

   

Mike O'Leary - May 2020

An ekphrastic poem written for a collection published by Dionne Hood.

The Logic of Grandma

 The Logic of Grandma

“I want never gets”

Oh how I longed for it

Surely I could want it a bit

Happiness so close

“Them that ask don’t get”

But I just wanted you to know

How much I wanted it

And how I couldn't let go

“Them that don’t ask don't want”

But I wanted it more than you know

And if I can’t tell you I want it

Can I ask how I’ll know that you know

I admit that your logic defeats me

Even though I’m only five

But if I can’t get the things that I want now

What’s the point of being alive?

Mike O’Leary - November 2015

Buns for Breakfast

Buns for breakfast

Buttery cream

Light and moist

Patisserie dream

Made in Bingley

By our chef petite

Buns for breakfast

What a treat 

Mike O'Leary 

Written for Claire Rookes, our lovely Art teacher, who provided the buns for our Art Class.

What a Performance

Poets gathered in communion

Forgetting to bring the bread

With no transubstantiation

We broke the wine instead

Mike O'Leary - October 2014

I attended a workshop with Chris Tutton at Bradford Central library. During the session my bag fell onto the floor and broke one of two bottles of wine. I wrote this little ditty as an apology.

Walking with Wordsworth

I wandered freely as a cloud

Reading poetry out loud

Lost as I roamed twixt south and north

The poem distracting as I moved forth

Where will it take me

There’s rhyme but no reason

A map and a compass

More befitting this season

Head in the clouds

Sight clear as mud

Four lines of verse

And then I should

Take up the challenge

To find my way home

Leave Wordsworth behind

When you go out to roam

Mike O’Leary - April 2016

I'm Leaving Behind

I'm leaving behind the Romantic sixties

I'm leaving behind the Kerouac fixes

I'm leaving behind the rarified air

The sweet smell of freedom it's chains laid bare

I'm in retreat from Romanticism

I'm in retreat from romance

I'm in retreat from the end of an era

And those who despise my class

Stepping back from the edge of the abyss

From the leap into infinity

Clearing my head, clearing my heart

Refusing to play my expected part

Returning to familiar faces

Returning to warm hearted places

Making the return journey home

Welcomed like the prodigal son 

Seeing my origins anew

Seeing that sense of belonging too

Seeing the roots from which I'd grown

Seeing a place that is now my own

Saying goodbye to things that I'd loved

Saying goodbye to things from above

Saying hello is a wonderful sound

Hello to having my feet on the ground

Aware of the sacrifice made

By my parents and their generation

Just as 'Do your own thing' exclaimed

The extent of selfish penetration

Class defines me not Art

Classical and not Romantic

Making a brand new start

No tripping, but the light is fantastic

Mike O'Leary - September 2014

Disillusioned at the end of the Romantic Sixties and returning to my working class roots (soon to be disillusioned again)

Kyrielle

Kyrielle

8 syllables

At least 2 quatrains 

aabB
ccbB

Subsequently 
ddbB etc

All meaning in life had been lost
My searching was bought at great cost
In anguish I cried out to thee
By your mercy I am set free

You invited me through your door
You welcome the rich and poor
Beyond ME I am truly me
By your mercy I am set free

I remember Allan Holdsworth

I remember Allan Holdsworth

I remember Allan Holdsworth

The guy from Thorpe Edge Estate

Who became the revered guitarist

That the world’s best musicians rate

I remember he did an album

Called ‘Igginbottoms Wrench

A musical voice from Bradford

That for some might as well be in French

I remember his swift elevation

With Nucleus and Ian Carr

In Tempest he blew with Jon Hiseman

Hazard Profile a Soft Machine star

I remember him joining Lifetime

Tony Williams and he played sublime

One of my favourite drummers

He played with most in his time

I remember I bought an album

UK was the name of the band

Bill Bruford and Allan inspired

The best prog band in the land

I remember the solo albums

Never willing to sell out

His music was always a credit

His bank balance suffered no doubt

I remember he liked a pint

 A gifted but modest man

Never content to follow

Always seeking the Secrets of Sand

Everyone comes from somewhere

But Allan was one of our own

The 4:15 Bradford Executive

Finally bringing him Home

Mike O’Leary April 2017

A poem written on learning of the death 

of the brilliant local guitarist 

 Allan Holdsworth 

 

Shared Words

Words shared on the finite path...
Enjoy the Spring fruit
Winter is soon upon us

Mike O’Leary - 6/10/2016

Without Consolation

Ghazal 1

Without Consolation

Joy once evoked by memory
Now revoked by memory

Once bound together in bliss
Now only yoked in memory

My spirit rows an empty boat
Soaked by stormy memory

My heart breaks a slow beat
Stroked on the snares of memory

Michael, without love’s grace
Cloaked only in memory

Mike O’Leary - April 2016

My Old House

My Old House

Memories occupy stone walled spaces

Stalking the very fabric of its rooms

Ghosts of the centuries display their gloom

Lives unfulfilled leaving vapour traces

Heart of oak beams take the strain with good grace

Remnants of galleons surviving booms

Rescued from battle weary watery tombs

Ancient mortise and tenon out of place

Memories of my life in this dwelling

Mingle unashamed without fear or fright

Feelings ancient and modern awoken

All tell a story worthy of telling

All interweave the darkness and the light

All stories are told no words are spoken

Mike O’Leary - April 2016

Longing for Spring

Sonnet 1

Longing for Spring

Wondering will spring ever life bring forth
The garden being decidedly grey
Winter's presence seems reluctant to stray
Finding solace amongst the dead wood’s worth
Not making way for the season of birth
More than content to feed on summer's hay
So for each new day I can only pray
For an end to this season the year's fourth
I long to see the dance of daffodils
With their bright yellow plumage my heart fills
Bright Phoebus their reflection overhead
In his sunlight winter’s shades soon are fled
Spring bring me the things in which I delight
Vernal Equinox light this last dark night

Mike O’Leary - April 2016

Bouquet du Vin

Rondeau

Bouquet du Vin

Bouquet du Vin is all that’s left
The crystal cut glass now bereft
An empty bowl devoid of wine
Drunk in haste by a friend of mine
With smelling he couldn’t be effed

At drinking wine he is most deft
Quaffing or sniffing never cleft
Intoxicating smells from vines
Bouquet du Vin

Alluring aromas they weft
Raising his glass as if to heft
Nostrils awash with citrus fine
To smell is human, drink divine
To waste drinking time would be theft
Bouquet du Vin

Mike O’Leary February 2016

A Rondeau on the theme of wine tasting. 

Your round I think.

My New Brother

My New Brother

I'm going to get a new brother
My Mum says he's coming soon
I didn't ask for a brother
I'm not even sure we've got room

I'm going to get a new brother
I hope he won't take my place
Cos I am still only little
I hope he won't get in my face

My Mum says I'll love my new brother
But I'm not really sure about that
Cos when he comes home to live here
I might have to sleep with the cat

My brother came home yesterday
He's alright but he's wrinkled and small
I suppose I'll get used to him one day
But I've told Mum, no more, that's all

Mike O'Leary - January 2016

Written in a poetry workshop with Chris Tutton

Ancient lives reflecting

A Haiku for all Seasons

Ancient limbs creaking...
Budding fruit of young men's lives
On the vine dancing

Ancient ears straining...
Peal of fuchsias crimson bells
The noon sun parades

Ancient eyes glazing...
Glimpsing frosty breath, rustling
Russet paths are trod

Ancient minds wander...
Footprints by the holly bush
Life's traces leaving

Mike O'Leary - October 2015

A set of haiku...

Came to rest upon my page

One cold, crisp morning

Howling Again

I saw the best of my generation
Addled from sniffing glue
I saw the best of my generation
Lobotomised in the dole queue

Amidst war torn industrial landscapes
Refugees from industrial strife
The best of my generation
Crawling through the nightmare of life

Amidst the mantras of aspiration
And the lessons that must be learned
For the best of my generation
An honest crust could rarely be earned

I saw the best of my generation
Forced into working for free
Punished by the parish
In the name of charity

I saw the best of my generation
Crushed and lifeless just like the worst
In a world of winners and losers
All that matters are those that come first

Mike O'Leary - October 2015

Written in a group session with Steve O'Connor. I was tasked to write as a punk poet.

On the 60th anniversary of Ginsberg's 'Howl'. Written in it's shadow and spirit.

Light

Light

Lighting up my way...
You lighten my heavy load
I'm travelling light

Mike O'Leary

The Best of Days

I danced my way

Through 1001 nights

With beautiful girls

On fanciful flights

With girlish charms

And womanly airs

A flashing of eyes

A flick of the hair

We loved and laughed

with youthful zest

The days were long

The nights, the best

The joy, the play

The making hay

Those surely were

The best of days

Mike O'Leary - September 2014

When love comes calling

When love comes calling

As the flames of love ignite
Do not flee the heat
Do not fear the light

As your heart with passion burns
Pay heed to it's call
Let the barriers fall

As your souls are joined in light
Rejoice in your fate
Let your lives be illuminated

Mike O'Leary - April 2015

Mother and her dead child

Mother and her dead child

Death has taken you

Nothing in my embrace 

Can breathe life back into your body

Conflicting feelings fill my heart

Love, loss and anger colour my vision of you

But you are cold like the darkest winter night

Cold and unresponsive

I scream inside but my lips emit no sound 

I rage inside but my anger does not show 

I weep inside but my eyes are dry

I die with you but I am still alive

Aching limbs squeeze your limp lifeless body

Tired lips kiss your icy stiffened neck

I pull you in as if to merge our souls and spirit

But alas your soul has already departed

You have left me

I am alone

Mike O'Leary - November 2014

A response to an etching by Kathe Kollwitz. 

Written at a workshop given by Chris Tutton.

Athena and Bastet

Athena and Bastet :

The union of wisdom and love

I have got the money honey 
You the pea green boat 
My guitar to serenade you 
As out to sea we float 

I'll sing to you my sweet
Betrothed we'll soon become
Beneath an arching bong tree
To the rhythm of a bang bang drum

With piggie-wigs ring in hand
With hill top Turkey's blessing
We'll dance across the moon
Sky clad entwined caressing

Mike O'Leary - November 2014

A homage to 'The Owl and the Pussycat'.

Inspiration was taken from a workshop

with our lovely writing tutor and poet,

Siobhan Macmahon.

Ineedsomespace

Ineedsomespace

whoareyoureallymike?
workingclassgrammarschoololdschool sixtiesmodhippiecommunewholefoods

countercultureartsmusician

alberthunthockneybaconmichaelclark

jonimitchelljohnmartynsteelydanhendrixtamla

kerouaccoltranetonywilliamsbrianpattenmiles
leedsunibrothertonlibraryphilosophy
baumanwittgenstein

computinganalysingcodingtraining
consultingearning
caringkindnesscompassionlove
loverloserdreamerpoetdrummer
tobeornottobecontinued...

mikeolearyoctober2014

Remember that day

National Poetry Day - 'Remember!'

Remember that day

Remember that day

When the sun went away

And the light left your world

Leaving misery unfurled

Remember that night

In the darkness your plight

Afraid and alone

With a silent telephone

Remember the way

That you kept at bay

The tempting call of Hades

And all those Siren Ladies

Remember now

That you still know how

To stand and be tall

In spite of it all

Mike O'Leary - October 2014

 

I take with me when I leave home

I take with me when I leave home

A pencil and pad to note all the bad things

An eraser to rub them out

A smile to remember the good things

A highlighter to point them out

A vegetarian dinner

A bottle of Shiraz, or two

A photographic memory

So I can remember you

A means of playing my music

A pair of dancing shoes

The love of a good woman

Or two, with the option to choose

A place where my heart can be happy

Without intoxication with booze

A heart that is open to giving

A mind that does not use

A box containing all the love

I have shared and received in my life

Another box, sealed and locked

Containing all my troubles and strife

A penny to keep Mr. Poverty at bay

A pound and I'll live like a king

A poem that I can rhyme 

and

A song that I can sing

Mike O'Leary - October 2014

Singing with Lorraine

Singing with Lorraine

We're singing with Lorraine
Just singing with Lorraine
Rockin' and reelin'
We're happy again

We're practising scales
Notes that soar up above
Voices joined in harmony
Soon will fit like a glove

Troubles we chase
Right out of this place
Come on let Lorraine
Put a smile on your face

Whether it's sunshine or rain
Come and join the refrain
We're singing (but not dancing)
With Lorraine

Mike O'Leary - July 2014

I wrote this for our lovely music teacher, Joy Lorraine Cowburn. She helped us find our singing voices and in no time at all we were singing and recording 3 part harmonies. 

She told me I had a lovely tenor voice but typically male I was trying to sing baritone.

Top Kitty

Top Kitty

You're the top

You're Ella and Streisand

You're the top

You're a Paradise Island

You're the girl who sings

with Sinatra's swing

You're the Kitty 

who makes Lions Roar

Mike O'Leary - July 2014

Written for the jazz singer kitty la Roar 

A little ditty for you, with apologies to Mr. Porter.

Draw down the Sun

Draw down the Sun

The Sun has a time

which it deems fit to shine

But that time is rare

and it isn't fair

It's raining again

and I'm wondering when

we'll enjoy it's presence

to light up our essence

Come again Sun

Inclement begone

Your job now is done

Time for frolic and fun

Mike O'Leary – May 2014

Easter Bonnet

Easter Bonnet

In your Easter Bonnet

You inspired a sonnet

Of fourteen lines with

 Pre-fashioned rhymes

I'll read it to you
 Or I'll sing it!

 

Mike O'Leary - April 2014

Kindred spirit

Kindred Spirit

Feelings with tenderness tended
Heart and Soul now mended
With a cadence both

Perfect and Suspended

Mike O'Leary - April 2014

The Songbird

The Songbird

She listened to my overtures

But we never did duet

She left me in the chorus

Though our eyes 
They sometimes met

Her voice sang out 

So sweetly

A beautiful refrain
 

Standing in her shadow

From harmonies refraining

Mike O'Leary - March 2014

Creative Journeys

Creative Journeys

Be still
Still life
Whilst we capture
Your essence in pastel

Remain silent
Inner critic
Let us speak
In a voice unabashed

Stay in tune
Make time count
 Embracing the flow 
Of the rhythm

Stay tuned in 

On the air
Mixing sounds
 Both made and found

Embark on
 A creative journey
Be guided

By your Muse

It may prove
To be very fruitful
But at least
It may serve to amuse
  

Mike O’Leary – February 2014

I've come to hate the night

I’ve come to hate the night 

I’ve come to hate the night
That robs me of my peace
That fills my soul with dread
 Making furrowing increase
  

I’ve come to hate the night

The visits from the past
The endless groans of failure
The way the die was cast

I’ve come to hate the night

Awakened from my slumber
Time advanced minutely
A futile count of numbers

I’ve come to hate the night

The chill that fills the air
The heaviness of silence
Impinging everywhere

I’ve come to hate the night
The sense of isolation
The dark night of the soul
That leaves me feeling vacant
 

I’ve come to hate the night
The thoughts, the fears
The feelings
If only it were so
That I were only dreaming

Mike O’Leary – February 2014

Lady Chatterley's Hoover

Lady Chatterley's Hoover

(A bawdy ballad)

Not that kind of girl

Married to a Patrician

But the Lady had lurid longings

For a new and exciting position

She fantasised day and night

 Thrilled by her thoughts of downstairs 

Determined to get down and dirty
To suck in the fluff and the hairs

Uninhibited pulling the cord

Flushed at turning it on
She set about stroking the shagpile 
Not intending to push hard and long

But she pushed and pulled that hoover
Till she broke out in a sweat
And the hoover started whining
But she hadn't finished yet

Ecstatic at feeling so common
For her there was no going back
So she pushed and she pulled that hoover

 Till she came to and emptied the sack

Mike O'Leary - November 2013

ReInterpreting Lawrence's Lady Chatterley,

fantasising about the dignity of labour. 

Some may see it otherwise. So be it.

National Poetry Day - The Rhyme of an Ancient Marinare

The  Rhyme of an Ancient Marinare

Water
 Water 
Everywhere

Desperate
I drink
 

Taste
  A dash 
Too puckery

Not so nice 

As you 
May think

 Thirst 
Not quenched  
Reclined 

In idle
framing
Of the ocean

Bored
Shrinking
In still waters

 Petrel squandered
Canvas primed

Daily brined

Mike O'Leary - October 2013

Apparently...

Apparently...

'Lessons have to be learned...'

Whilst books are discarded and burned

'It's really important that...'

Maybe that one's become old hat

This endless repetition of platitudes

Demonstrates unthinking attitudes

Mike O'Leary - September 2013

Broken

Broken

When my body was broken

You ran on ahead

When my heart was broken

You messed with my head

When my spirit was broken

You left me for dead

Mike O'Leary - May 2013

The Lady is for burning

The Lady is for Burning

We could melt down the Iron Lady

But there's no foundry to be found

 We might find it hard to cremate her

 When the coal is all still in the ground
 

Perhaps we could snatch a milk float

And deliver her on our round

Or put out her funeral to tender

And see if we can save a few pounds

Do you think she'll hear voices of angels

Or the baying of the hounds?

Pandora
 Leaving this place for another

Epimetheus, left unwound   

Mike O'Leary - April 2013 

Virulent Virus

Virulent Virus

Attacked by a virulent virus

No wonder I feel unwell

Attacked by a virulent virus

The lives of my cells made hell

Attacked by a virulent virus

As if temperate wouldn't do

Attacked by a virulent virus

I hope you don't get it too!

Michael O'Leary - October 2012

This poem was written as an apology and was read at a conference in York with Siobhan MacMahon. 

I was unable to attend due to ill health.

Globalisation

Globalisation

Globalisation

no exaggeration
 no care or compassion

only hunger and passion

for material gain

regardless of pain

Winners and losers

Quaffers and boozers

Top dogs and hot dogs

 Chocolate logs and Swiss rolls

Housing bubble, casino bank
Credit crunch, future sank 
Profiteering, penny pinching
Tidy profit, half inching
Asset stripping, edge tipping
Downsizing, debts rising
Outsourcing, hand forcing
Call centres, corporate sentries
Mean and lean, cleaned out
Consequence not thought about

Everyman for himself
Your problem, my wealth
Views changed by stealth
Privatising your health 

Level field, you can win
 Pursue a profit, see as sin
 Lives of needy, poor and lost
 Seen as work shy, losers cost
More, it's said, than they deserve
God of Mammon, all should serve 

Mike O'Leary - October 2012

Lothario

The Mind of a Lothario

'Come lie with me 

and be my love'

 I'll lie to you 

when I pledge my love

Conquest 

is the name of my game

Seduction the means Submission my aim
The excitement of new 

The thrill of the chase
A few drinks later

Back to my place

I am a charmer 

I will have my way

I'll make you feel special 

Just for a day

I'll flatter with words 

I'll attend to your needs
You'll hang on to my words You'll follow my lead

I'll fill you with dreams 

But when you awake
You'll be left with a feeling 

Of more give than take

 You'll think it's your fault What's wrong with you
 Our targets were different 

My aim was true

Mike O'Leary - October 2012

Unfortunately these characters do exist

National Poetry Day - Stars that burn bright

Stars that burn bright

who'd be a star
blinking from afar
your light just revealing
you were so appealing
though long dead you are
we think you still are
a place in the sky
we can see when we try

stars that burn bright
may only be light
from a long time ago
 the poet says no

Mike O'Leary - October 2012

What Love is

What Love is

Love is greater than you and me

It doesn't falter when we disagree

Love is a bond that sets us free

It doesn't blind us, it lets us see

Love carves it's initials in our tree

No longer enough, just to be

Love changes you and me into we

Soon enough two, soon maybe three

Love can be scary, you may want to flee

Run from your feelings, run away, break free

Love that is precious, hears a lovers plea

'Don't leave me alone, I cry out to thee'

Love makes us crazy, knocks us out of our tree

Sometimes full of remorse, sometimes full of glee

Love fills us with joy, Love hurts when it ends

When your lover says, 'Can we still be friends?'

Love makes fools of us all, but alone what are we?

 Just an incomplete he, an incomplete she?

Mike O'Leary – October 2012

What Love Is not

What Love is not

I'm not responsible for the choices you make

I'm not responsible for the chances you take

I'm not responsible for the dreams that you break

I'm not responsible for the longings you ache

I love you but for both of our sake

Don't expect me to fix every mistake

I'll be there when you begin to flake

But I'm not here for you just as soon as I wake

I can't give you all of me, that would be fake

Relationships require give and take

Know that I love you, asleep and awake

You are my duck, I am your drake

Love isn't just giving you all you can take

 If you knew I was coming, would you bake me a cake?

Mike O'Leary – September 2012

Windows

'Winders'

Shut them winders

You must be cold!

You don't think about me

Mi blood's thin and old

Them winders are mucky

I'll give 'em a clean

Vinegar and newspaper

That'll give 'em a sheen

Look at them net curtains

As much use as nowt

People can't see in

But I can't see owt!

She never draws her curtains

You can see right in her room

Mucky little mare

She should to learn to use a broom

Them curtains have been drawn

More than three days now

That's enough time for grieving

Poor old cow

Window man's here Mum

'Get me mi purse'

I'll not pay 'im again

Them winders look worse

Mike O'Leary – April 2012

Do Boots sell shoes?

Shoes

Do Boots sell shoes?

Dr Scholls and the rest?

Would clogs rot your feet?

Are casuals for best?

Choosing your footwear

What you should know

Sandals for sunshine

Wellies for snow

Clogs are hard wearing

Pumps need a bag

Trainers get smelly

Horseshoes for nags

Boots can be kinky

Shoes can be Tuf

Oxfords have ties

Brogues, holes enough

Some shoes have toe caps

Some patently leather 

Some just for good times

Some for all weather

Feet go inside them

Often with socks

Newly bought shoes

Often come in a box

Women have many

Men have a few

But at any one time

You can only wear two!

Mike O'Leary - April 2012