Mick Rooney | Journalist & Broadcaster

Written in 1990, published as a limited edition micro-novel, ARCADIA is a complex prose-poem and took its inspiration from the opening of the Book of Genesis. Featuring a mysterious female protagonist, we enter and exit worlds of the past and future. Across three decades, and on two unsuccessful occasions, the micro-novel, almost, but never quite made it to a scripted and experimental short film. Sometimes, a piece of work never quite reaches realisation until the right time comes along. But that is the journey of life itself. Published again as part of my prose collection Filigree & Shadow in 2016, Arcadia now has a visual hand to hold it. And sometimes, it's best to just do it yourself with modern technology. ARCADIA lives again, as it always will long after I'm gone from this world to the next.  

My latest poem - The Bridge. No lengthy descriptions. I believe all creative writing should speak for itself in its delivery and performance. This poetry piece is no different. Words and images flow. As with all my recent recitals of both fiction and poetry, I take as much time in producing the piece for the audience as I do in the writing, delivery and performance. But, ultimately, the words should speak for themselves.  

My latest poem release and recital with accompanying video - Echoes of Pink Whispers. Enjoy. #mickrooney #poetry #literature  

  The Child Inside is my latest poem and recital. A full recital with music accompaniment by Kevin MacLeod. Enjoy.  

Children on the Hill, a prose poem. Originally from my book Filigree & Shadow. I have shared the previous version, recorded in the mid-1990s. But it is a work I have wanted to re-record for quite some time - now with musical accompaniment and a video. Enjoy.

My latest poem recital and accompanying video. Feel free to have a channel browse for my other poetry and prose recital work. You will also find a dedicated playlist for my work.  

 My latest poem - Magpies. Enjoy.

 My latest poem - Burn. My work should speak for itself. No explanations.

The Spiraling of Winter Ghosts - a short story. First published in 2008, from Filigree & Shadow. This is the first recorded studio recital of the work with music provided by Jesse Gallagher and electronic composer pATCH. Enjoy.  

 The Island - Mick Rooney

 A new poem recital by Mick Rooney.

The Dark Arcade - new poem, 

  Butterflies (Poem)  

  Autumn Comes (Poem)  

 Voices in the Rain - Full Recital and Performance

Things That Happen - A recital of a new poem.

A recital of a piece from Mick Rooney's novel, The Memory of Trees. Adapted as a poem to music by Emmit Fenn.

Voices in the Rain I can hear them talking about me The sound of heavy rain outside The incessant flowing of water From birth to death Creating the whisper of voices in the room next door An old musting overcoat in the closet Now unworn – two sizes too big I have no need for it I’m inside, listening to the whispers And the rain outside Boxes of old newspapers piled up in the hallway Old news on faded paper, cross words done Black and white boxes penned in Walls of photographs framed by dust Gathering like the water outside An old bicycle, tyres flat, wheels never to turn again But my head spins with the voices in the rain A wheelchair in the kitchen The medication boxes stacked upon its seat Like the last Sunday mass – unattended Curtains frayed and moth-eaten Half-drawn just to let a little light in I don’t need Cracked window glass and walls of stone and brick The spiders make their homes Huge intricate webs of community A vacant fireplace starving in the corner Coals ready in a scut...

  ALL THINGS GROW I fell in love with a girl and a place And my heart opened wide like never before But all that is precious, yet fragile, soon breaks Just as all waters eventually run to the sea Bathe with me, believe in me Hold me close to all things sacred and tender Run with me, walk with me, fall with me Breathe with me, love with me, cry with me Curse me, if you will I grasp the punishment of learning as if it were a thorn And the blood from my hand pours out But all that is green and fresh is drowned in red Just as the life is sucked from me All things grow, all things grow We kept our hearts in jars by the window The two together, looking out on a beautiful dawn We kept our souls in our shoes And we walked the imaginary steps to Cyprus I drove a journey to your heart every day And the miles alone would have taken me to Cyprus and back But I had you and would never have fallen for the allure of Aphrodite Just as you never wanted to fall upon my failings All things grow, all ...

Autumn comes like night and day as if it must. We gather up the summer memories dried and burnt from the sun. There was one like rustling leaves in my head a dress donned from the floor. An empty space where you are gone like sunshine that had never shone.