Paul McDermott

I have written and painted on and off all my life but have only recently decided to do something about it and actually make the effort to share things with other people.


For the last few years I have been living in a cave hidden at the end of a lane somewhere in Ballyhaunis, Co. Mayo.

See some of my art

Here are a few of my poems. I hope you enjoy them.

A Poisonous Brew

Don't ask me what I think, I won't tell you.
I'll lie, keep my thoughts to myself, I'm not sharing.
I'll take your words and grind them up,
Extract every last drop, mix them with my fears.
I'll make my own lethal concoction.

Your looks I'll take and tear apart,
Make my own jigsaw puzzle from them,
With pieces that will never fit,
Will only ever make what I feel,
Will never show what you can see
.
Don't try to hide your thoughts from me,
I will see the slightest things,
even when you don't know they are there.
I will catch them and beat them into place
Squeeze them, twist them, form them
Until I see a meaning you don't know.

I will make my potion of words, looks and thoughts
Then drink it down, every last drop,
Crawl into my head and sit there,
Feeling it slowly poisoning me,
Cherishing the pain as it burns into my soul.

I remember you

I remember you 
and the words we spoke
and the morning mists
as you held my hand
and your blushing looks
when the sunshine broke
how we never spoke
of the night we knew
and the memories found
and the memories lost
just the two of us
alone here now

What they said

Good old Tony is dead,
They said.

Only sixty three,
Fit as you or me,
Found him dead in his bed,
They said.

We both laughed at the thought
That the man 
That we knew 
Could have died in the night
Left poor old Win all alone,
How can they be right?
But good old Tony is dead
They said.

Now who will wear those big shorts
That had never been seen
Since the time of the Raj
Matching plimsoles and vest.
With the slicked back black hair
Just now showing some grey
And thick sensuous lips
Moist with froth from his beer
And a cigarette dangling
Dropping ash on his guts
As he watches the tele
Eating crisps and nuts.

Who will fill the big chair
At the head of the table
And eat up the portions
Of pasta and chips
Then finish it off
With a whole tub of ice cream
As big as his eyes,
As big as his heart.

But now Tony is dead.
Left poor auntie Win all alone.
She found him dead, 
in his bed,
they said.

The Man on the Square

The man on the square sits and watches
Eyes clouded by drink, drugs and pain
Sees the souls of the people that pass him
Asks forgiveness from each of their gods

The friends from his schooldays still see him
Most turn their heads and cross over the street
But now and then one of them calls him
Smiles and jokes hiding unspoken words

He watches the lives of our children
Doing things that we never will see
Hears the unprovoked taunts used to mock him
And their laughter at each of his tears

Sometimes lovers will smile as they pass him
Holding hands as they walk on their cloud
But he knows before long he will see them
All alone and each holding their fears

While the cars wait their turn at the junction
Their passengers stare at the square
Ask themselves why the old man just sits there
Why he doesn’t chase rainbows like them

And the transporter lorries drive past him
Holding life bred to further mans greed
And the endless white vans with their parcels
Delivering things that each of us need

As he ponders the holes in his trousers
And the soles split away from his shoes
The man in the square sits and wonders
Why the parcels are never for him

And the funeral cortege passes by him
Some in cars and some walking behind
And he wonders who’ll follow behind him
When one day he returns to the earth

And he takes all the sights of a lifetime
And the thoughts that will never return
Takes the history of all that he saw there
On his vigil alone in the square

We know we are right

I'll overthrow you, 
punch, kick and slay you,
impose my ideals 
because I'm right.

They'll give me weapons 
to kill and maim you,
even though my war cry 
is to oppose them.

Anhialate those 
that don't think like us,
subjugate them 
with our god.

Beat and stone them 
then brainwash them
with our doctrine, 
the Word of God.

Do not question,
don't dare to question 
our divine right 
to rule your souls.

And if we choose to
take your daughters,
rape and sell them,
that's our right,

because we know that
we are chosen
to do our god's will 
here on Earth.

And the money,
cars and women
that our new friends 
give to us,

are the payment
for our devotion
to the God 
that  rules the Earth.

My Summers Sun

Pink rosebuds open on a summer's morn
Promising tenderness and sweetness unknown
Through dewy morning mists that are my own
Their beauty in the sunlight will be born.

Sweet golden fields reflect the midday sun
Blinding me where light and shadows play
Their soft and hazy promises inviting me to lay
And sleep and dream of things that have begun.

Woodland cathedrals lay in summers evening haze
Drawing me to their soft and pungent promise
Where chanting Witches dance and sacrifice
To their Wiccan Mother God's all knowing gaze.

The twinkling stars shine on a summer night
Enticing me like jewels thrown upon the sand
Where lovers walk together hand in hand
And exchange vows enrobed in moonlight.