Maurice Keady writes poetry and has been published in many Journals including Oxford poetry, Fire, Harliquin, and was the winner of the Francis Ledwidge National Poetry award in 2003.

Below is one of his poems.



by Maurice Keady

When I was young, I saw her,

tapping along the mosaic

in leather shoes and stiff veil

along a hall, all lit in red and blue,

the stain glass saints, glittering in the sun.

Her embroidered days of prayer and chore

were bound in a gilt edged India paper book,

that treasured little cards,

 the pressed flowers

of an existence that ran from end to end.

- A compassed life ordered by the rule.


A clock fills the hall with chimes

familiar in the dust filled rays

that dragged the evening in.

Who, from his grave had, with golden wheels

in his creation, caught up eternity

in shining brass and wood,

and measured out her years?

She was but a passing fly

that buzzed a while among the coloured saints.