Re: [acornlive] Obit For An Omelette by Liam Ronan
Liam Ronan (acornlive@dublinwriters.org)
Thu, 7 Jun 2001 21:25:18 +0100
Hi, Chris,
The poem is the narrative voice of terminal anomie espoused by a nouveau EU Irish capitalist (broker).
The narrator is deeply cynical; pathologically narcissistic; leering at life itself and the possibility of unspoiled joy (wine, fish, coffee, mother, brother, girlfriend, mates at work). He is jaded to the point of fantasizing his own obituary, i.e. how it will be written versus how he would write it.
While bemused at the contemplation of his imminent suicide, he reveals a loathing for his nearest and dearest; and suggesting plans to take his unfaithful (?) girlfriend's life.
Con O'Shea distrusts everyone and everything.
The poem is a window into the last despairing of a man not altogether out of sync with the values of some in today's Irish society.
You'll notice perhaps that the narrator still has a patina of 'religion' about him...consummatus est...god...dust to dust...Mass, etc. but none of its viscera.
Foolishly decanting plonk (cheap wine); making fish fingers of good monk; no mochas, etc. are meant to show the distain with which O'Shea views life. It's all a waste. It all means nothing.
Yes, there is much word play in the work...Bent broker, sunny (Sunday) times, gull, spring rolled, Tart dot condom, inside trade, cliff shags are also birds which nest on the Cliffs of Moher, etc. And too, there are words like mingy, whingy, grasser, etc. which are parochial. However, I say (1) look 'em up if you don't have a grasp and, (2) they were used intentionally to reveal O'Shea (for all his high brow tastes) was not above using a bit of low brow (making him and his origins a little more intriguing).
At the end of the day, Con is the wounded wolf gnawing his own damaged heart out to ease the agony.
As O'Shea would say "No flowers."
Hope this helps, Chris. You don't have to like it. It's not satire. It's modern schizophrenia. some might not think it 'poetry', but I would not change a word.
Liam
ps Haven't read Skelton. Haven't read anyone of late.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Chris Neenan" <neenanc@yahoo.com>
To: <acornlive@dublinwriters.org>
Sent: Thursday, June 07, 2001 7:27 PM
Subject: Re: [acornlive] Obit For An Omelette by Liam Ronan
Hi Liam,
Thank you for sharing this with us. I not not sure it
works, though. The listing of the items doesn't seem
to get 'off the ground'. Which poets are you reading
at the moment? What were you trying to achieve here.
Have you read the Tudor poet John Skelton? Let me know
what you are aiming at in your poetry.
Regards,
Chris Neenan
--- Liam Ronan <liamronan@esatclear.ie> wrote:
> Obit For An Omelette
> by Liam Ronan
>
> Well! Consummatum est.
> Let god sort out the rest.
> Dust to dust;
> and, in between, rust.
> No lobster steam,
> or white wine cream;
> hot mocha moment;
> just freeze-dried instants,
> tap-tepid, insipid;
> fish-fingered monk;
> decanted plonk.
> ***
> Con O'Shea passed away;
> Our sunny Times could say,
> May the tenth; suddenly.
> if once, accurately:
> 'Bent Broker from Togher
> cliff shags over Moher!
> -his final margin cull-
> Celt Tiger, Gaelic gull?'
> Missed by mingy mother;
> whingy brother;
> and, insignificant other,
> Oona later discovered
> duvet-smothered;
> spring-rolled in a mat
> inside the flat that
> she, a Tart dot condom,
> turned her inside trade from.
> Mourned by mates and 'staffers'.
> Whistle-blowing grassers!
> Removal at three; Mass at four.
> Interment in St. Fionúir's.
> No flowers.
>
>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> This work contains sections which are italicized to
> convey the character's thoughts. (Rich text HTML)
> The poem has been submitted for publication as of
> this writing, i.e. 7 June 2001. Comments welcome by
> the author. - LiamRonan@esatclear.ie
>
>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>
>
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