WHAT THE WORLD REALLY WANTS
Michael Walsh is fluent in all genres of topics but says that he would prefer to be remembered for his verse. The poet has earned glowing tributes from all over the world and from every social class.
He says, “Traditional verse is not unpopular. Fake and pretentious poetry that makes neither rhyme nor reason is unpopular. Just as degenerate art was foisted on the public as chic so poetry was degraded.”
Michael was encouraged after having tested the public taste for real poetry in his home city of Liverpool Michael. In 1999, Michael published 2,000 copies of A Sea Veneer of Merseyside, a collection of poetry relating to Liverpool and his sea experiences. A Sea Veneer completely sold out in several weeks. He followed up with Believing of Liverpool and published 3,000 copies which too sold out in a very short period.
MICHAEL WALSH POETRY
MICHAEL WALSH POETRY
WHEN AFTER FIFTEEN MINUTES
When after fifteen-minutes,
I haven’t breathed at all,
It’s best to snuff the candle out,
I answered Final Call;
No need to get upset, dear,
For souls can never cease,
You know we’re still together,
And for sure I’m now at peace.
When, after fifteen-hours,
You’re wondering what is now,
The tears are often coming,
And heavy hangs your brow,
You’ll find my words of comfort,
Behind the mourner’s hearse,
My poems are always with you,
And my love’s in every verse.
When after fifteen-days, dear,
Though past has never fled,
It’s time perhaps to better think,
Of good times still ahead,
To live in hearts you leave behind,
Is not to die but live,
With memories I leave behind,
There’s still so much to give.
When fifteen-years elapses,
I’m still a passing thought,
I hope my life and passing was,
A lesson fondly taught,
Then you will know the path to me,
And all you ever knew,
In garden bower where once we met,
Is where I wait for you.
The point had been made; a real verse that mirrors real lives and experiences is as popular now as it has been through the ages.
KNOWN BY THE COMPANY YOU KEEP. Born into a literary family, Michael Walsh is one of the world’s most loved lyricists.
MICHAEL WALSH VERSE COLLECTIONS AVAILABLE ON AMAZON KINDLE
EUROPE ARISE Michael Walsh The conspiracy to flood Europe with aliens began in 1945. Institutionalised anti-White media degrades ethnic-European culture, values, and religion. Whites are singled out to be coerced into believing their ethnicity shameful and inferior. EUROPE ARISE is a lavishly illustrated wake up call for ethnic Europeans everywhere.
IMMORTAL BELOVED Beautiful illustrated poetry collections of Michael Walsh. “Dearest Michael, I want to thank you for being in my life, you are a gift from God, I feel honored and privileged for you to share the divine work, the words of our Creator, streaming through your hand on to paper, so powerful, to a mortal being like me, gifting me, lifting me to a higher state of mind, giving me peace and hope, I’m comforted by your words and I will cherish always how you’ve touched my life.” ~ Ana, New York March 24, 2019.
I think I just fell over, son,
I really can’t be sure;
Perhaps I just lay down awhile,
I think it is the floor.
Oh, I wish that I was younger,
Less tired and bemused;
Why do I, son, fall over;
And why am I confused?
I think I’m close to home, son
The steeple is nearby;
I’m just not sure what church it is,
It’s like this when you die?
If I were only young again,
And once again like you;
I lived a life as full as yours,
But, son, how those years flew.
I think I saw your mum today,
You told me she was dead;
But she helped to find my jacket,
And her lips were blazing red.
Perhaps you are mistaken,
Or did my hearing fail,
It’s hard to make much sense of things,
When you’re nearing end of trail.
I think I’m close to quitting, son,
My God, the years have flown;
Look at you, I shake my head,
To see how much you’ve grown.
You look a lot as I once did,
So I shall never die;
I live in you, my dearest son,
And you’re the reason why.
WHISPERING HOPE Dreamy illustrated poetry collections of Michael Walsh. “After your poem, it was breath-taking but also I had tears, I felt fever. You touched so deep my heart till my soul. It was so beautiful. I can’t find again right words but I can say a big thank you that you saw me in this poem, and yes, I saw myself there. Your poems are divine. ~ Ina Čaklā.
When time and distance separate us,
Then you will find the spirit of our togetherness,
In a glass of wine.
My darling; Make it a long stemmed glass,
To remind you that even the minute apart is the longest one.
Fill it to its very brim to symbolize,
The fullness that you bring to my heart;
Sip it gently, and often, that you may know,
That each slight touch or glance is a kiss from you.
And most of all; let its spirit warm you as yours has warmed me.
Raise the glass and salute both the past and the future that link us;
But most of all, toast the emptiness that lies between,
Without which there could be no anticipation.
And if the spirit of the glass brings,
Warmth, peace and joy to the inner you,
Then you will understand what you have brought to me.
Let the shimmer of the wine’s sparkle on your lips,
Hint at desire;
The coolness of the chilled bottle the long ago.
The chuckle of its pour, the future.
But most of all may it, as it becomes part of you,
Remind you that you are a part of me.
Ma Vourneen is Gaelic for My Darling.
WINE THOUGHTS Beautifully illustrated poetry collection of Michael Walsh. “You are an amazing poet. The poet who has a special gift of seeing the beauty of this world and generating love in his heart and filtering his sensual fantasies with his sharp mind to bring them to perfection in form.” ~ Yvette Kalnina.
WHERE THE SKYLARKS SING
The summer breezes balmy,
Brought cotton clouds to rest,
They drifted aimless, some were caught,
Upon the mountain crest;
The maid was plucking flowers,
Her shoulder turned aside,
To hide the blush upon her cheek,
Was it a flush of pride?
That I should speak of poetry,
And sonnets for her heart,
Create a word-spun spider web,
That brings romance to art.
Gay she stepped through flowers,
Beguiled and won my soul;
I chased till she had caught me,
We both then reached our goal.
She sat her chin within her hands,
Then smiled a thought unknown;
I closed my eyes and dreamed that she,
Might one day be my own?
We felt the heather in the air,
We heard the skylark sing,
The curlew’s call to higher realm,
Where seagull rest their wing.
In her hands the harvest,
Of pastures summer filled,
Across the vale, the dingle dale;
Where summer flowers spilled.
To ripple, dance to summer’s tune,
The ocean’s breathing sigh;
Where skylarks sing and flowers grow,
And maiden lovers lie.
IN LITTLE HOMES OF CLAY
School and college then to war,
The young to settle rich men’s score,
Who dress their sin as keeping peace,
To lure the sheep they wish to to fleece.
War is business and best when clad,
In uniform and nation’s rag.
Keep alive the threats and dread,
That profiteers be wined and fed.
Best to get the Press on side,
There’s knighthoods for the men who lied,
Deceived the young and brought to grief,
The young men fooled by fond belief,
They fight for nation, kith and kin,
Betrayed by mainstream,
Lies and spin.
The young will kneel, will weep and pray,
Then slumber sweet in beds of clay.
In graves all men are equal just,
All men the same when men are dust.
FORTY SHADES OF VERSE (Irish theme) soak you in the fragrances of 41 of this remarkable Irish poet’s most sumptuous lyrics all lavishly illustrated to bring extra bedside table or coffee table delights.
This is a wonderful book to buy – for a friend or for yourself. I was enraptured by the first few poems – Michael Walsh has the gift of pulling you right into his world with his words. He has a great “turn of phrase” and a super sense of humour. There is everything here – love, passion, sadness, history, thrills, scares, philosophy – everything you could ask for and some great photographs too. His reminiscences add to the beauty of this book. If you only ever buy one poetry book, I can recommend this one without hesitation. I intend buying more of his work. As a poet myself, I really appreciate his style, rhythm, humour, and wistfulness with words. My congratulations! ~ Amazon Customer.