Dermot O’Brien wrote this book of haikus while staying in a monastery in Wexford. The haikus capture ‘moments of awareness’ — moments of grace which act as a pointer to God. Below is a selection of the haikus taken from various chapters of the book.
178 pp, Veritas, 2004. To purchase this book online, go to http://www.veritas.ie/.
CONTENTS
Introduction
1. The sun in the west
2. Hung with raindrops
3. An ember of truth
4. Against a blue sky
5. To the graveyard
6. Beyond all measure
|
Review |
|
|
The geese in the yard
suddenly alarmed somewhere
behind the clutter
…
The end of the year
a country boy made of straw
proclaims Hallow’een
…
Beyond a hedge row
beet tumbling into a truck
ready to move out
…
The rain on the roof
a welcome patter when all
within weatherproof
…
A basket of fruit
pumpkins, apples and nuts
placed among straw bales
…
For those out of doors
and without a home a prayer
to God to shield them
…
Of similar hue
the moon and cloud across the sky
towards November’s end
…
Equal before God
every human being all by
divine grace redeemed
…
Still to be cycling
when all the world goes by car
resurrects the past
…
To see the cup raised
for the fifteenth time in little
over a century
…
Fast down a steep hill
an old man finds again
the laughter of his youth
…
Those championship days
with all to play for the county
alive with colour
…
Sprinting onto a field
in the best of form ready
to take on the world
…
The balance deciding
over the times of grief joy
wins out in the end
…
Late in his career
he rises high to catch a ball
and put it over the bar
…
Gathering the fans
on All-Ireland day the stations
with train after train
…
The moon over Saul
on a clear night St Patrick
at home in heaven
…
The pearl among stars
his new found knowledge of God
on a cold hill-top
…
Beneath the bright stars
a boy on a hill sensing
the nearness of God
…
The prayer he had learnt
as a child at home exiled
now brings him to God
…
Growing so quickly
on a foreign hill Patrick
in the love of God
…
Rescued from the mud
to be placed high on a wall
he sees the whole world
…
Above the street-lights
of a small town the stars
shining in silence
…
After his escape
grown to maturity he hears
the call to return
…
The hills over hills
and then the distant mountains
vague in a spring haze
…
The undisturbed bank
of a country by-road bright
with yellow primroses
…
An abandoned house
the strawberry shrubs in April
continue to flower
…
Lying on its side
a pony in a spring field
enjoys the sun’s warmth
…
The trickle of streams
in the dips among the hills
all without a name
…
The flick of a tail
otherwise motionless horses
in a sun-lit field
…
Cut from the bank-side
the furze bushes in the stream
beginning to fade
…
The breeze in its mane
a pony lying on the grass
unwilling to stir
…
The swathe after swathe
until nothing stands save the
foxgloves by the ditch
…
The sound of a train
in late afternoon its time
to gather in the cows
…
A row of poplars
between meadows by the river
leaves singing in June
…
Milk in a bucket
the cream rising to the top
in the cool of the kitchen
…
One by one the cocks rise
the count of ten, twenty twenty-five
shaped against the rain
…
The dew on the fields
of early morning the tracks
the cows make to the shed
…
Walking between swathes
laid down in the sun the stems
of grass and wild flowers
…
Around the meadow
the horse-drawn wheel-rake sweeps
as if in a dream
…
As a fledgling bird
will cry from the same place
waiting on its mother
…
Swirling in the light
of a foggy evening smoke
from an unseen chimney
…
Trusting in providence
eternity over time life
in the care of God
…
In his name our names
becoming divine adopted
through love of a lamb
…
The still point of all
around which everything moves
is the love of God
…
The full gift of Christ
a place in heaven his life
the price that was paid
…
Name above all names
the Lord of all the person
of Christ born on earth
…
A night without stars
the country shrouded in fog
lights disembodied
…
The sleeves of yellow
the gorse among the saplings
of evergreen firs
…
The tips of fir-trees
aspiring to the heights lonely
under the passing clouds
…
The moss on a log
still damp after recent rain
sun and wind will dry
…
Gorse between the fields
on the uplands of Slieve Buí
rain clouds passing by
…
A mass on a rock
the mountains all around
the clouds overhead
…
A small meadow-brown
its wings outstretched on a leaf
painted cream markings
…
The narrowing track
leading out of the wood-land
grass along its centre
…
As yellow as gorse
the empty fertilizer bags
left in a wheat-field
