John A. Brennan
The Critics’ Choice
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Don’t Die with Regrets
By John A. Brennan, winner of the 2015 Next Generation Indie Book Award
“Brennan keeps his reader captivated with his descriptions of the countryside, his cleverness with dialogue which keeps us hanging until he delivers his punch line at the end of each episode, and his realistic detail.”
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“Anticipate first-person stories that offer vignettes of wisdom stemming from everything from a fishing incident to a garden’s lessons on hard work and which teaches basics on handling people both nasty and positive and using one’s talents to understand the world at large.”
Midwest Book Reviewer
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“John A Brennan’s new book titled “Don’t Die with Regrets” takes the reader on a spellbinding journey through the shrouded mists of time and space. In his broad travels Brennan seeks out the spiritual; his quest at eclectic, sacred sites rises like a humble symbol of the frail, the vulgar, the needy human, all trying to cull ever elusive meaning from existence.
From the ancient land of his birth, he chronicles the history of Ireland starting at the end of the last ice age and tells of the many pre-Celtic cultures that inhabited the Island. He narrates a series of wonderful stories telling of the lessons learned from his father.
He uses some of his selected poetry as a link and common thread that flows throughout the ever-alive pages. A hugely informative and joyous read that touches all six senses.”
Ms. Gayl Teller
Nassau County Poet Laureate. 2009-2011
The Night Moths
By John A. Brennan
My writing has always been greatly influenced by the Irish writers whose works have prompted me to pick up the quill and follow in their footsteps. I thank them all for their inspiration. This is my humble tribute to WB Yeats.
I went down to the cool, dark woods,
when night moths were on the wing.
On earthly ghosts and raging floods
embraced my lonely pondering.
Moss clung fast to an olden tree,
near bank of river flowing slow
Salmon leap I smiled to see,
in silence, with a young moons’ glow.
Fawn eyes bright, shone out at me,
from in the depths, and to and fro.
She licked my hand, while nestling free,
her tale to tell of the long ago.
She told to me, through cool night air
that time and space are here and now.
Spoke to me of a maid so fair,
with haunted look on her pale brow.
An apple blossom in her hair,
she haunts the woods in search of him.
To heal her heart and her love fair,
and cease the lonely wanderin’.
All at once near a white oak tree,
a girl in shimmering bright light,
came out and gently called to me.
Then both did meld, into the night.
Author John A. Brennan with fans at his book signing event at Sip This in Valley Stream, NY
John A. Brennan receives the Next Generation Indie Book Award at the Harvard Club – May 27, 2015