henryp
Profile
Writing for me is a hobby. Someday maybe it could be more than that. Sometimes when I get busy in life, caught up with working and socialising and the writing gets put on the back-burner I find a knot tightening inside me. The only way to untangle it is to sit down in silence with a pen.
I’m a country boy from county Cavan in rural Ireland. I grew up on home cooking, local scandal, and the G.A.A.
These days I live in Perth with my partner Jasmine and our narcoleptic dog. Life is good, We got big plans and only want small things. I’m getting more time for my scribblings. And I’m embarking on a distance education degree in an effort to move from the construction game towards something more sedentary.
Groups
henryp is a member of ! * Irish Eyes * !, ! Creative Writing & Poetry !, All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, Ireland , Masterpieces: Literary Workshop, Politics, Race, Sexuality and Culture, Practising the Dark Arts, Remember When, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, Up & Coming Writers, WMG, Writing Workshop and Yer pullin' my leg !.
Writing
Ironic awareness.
The trick is not tin the flick of the coin / But to see both sides in one.
Cats and Dogs.
The cat has got his tongue. / He is placidly distant.
Your time in the sky.
A man is a tree with withered leaves / And precious time to spend.
A four page essay on the inside of a tennis ball.
A shot of white light, a luminescence that seemed to chase it’s own tail about the attic, a frantic ferret of effulgence escaped and darted into my eyes.
Those who jog.
She is his age, soft-skinned. She wouldn’t look twice at me . Her auburn hair trussed in a ponytail is now becalmed; a playful smattering of freckles beneath her impish eyes.
Progress, as personified by the dastardly Catherine Burke.
Kess, short for kestrel was the name of a demented red setter once owned by my mother and kept chained up by my father.
