Circle of Life

Little girl, three nearly four

Standing looking at the door

Of my bedroom

Waiting for me to wake.

She hears me stir, then

Crash, bang, jump, shake,

Smothering me, we kiss and hug

Under the duvet, snug, in love.

This beautiful creature borne of me

Fills my life with synergy,

Gives me hope, makes me warm,

Enables me come to terms

With my life.

I like her used to wait

For my parents to wake

So that we could hug and sing and play

And snuggle beneath warm duvet.

Innocent fun and security didnt last long

After ten years my parents were gone

Daddy overseas, mammy withdrawn

In bipolar haze.

I find it hard to remember happy childhood days.

Now I am the parent under the covers

Feeling vunerable, trying to recover

From the life dealt to me.

She jumps and sings and kisses freely

She is so joyous, lovely, needy.

I hope and worry and pray everyday

That I will never go away

And leave her to this life alone

I want her to remember a happy home.

So God if you're out there

Please listen to me

Help me to heal, to be the person she needs,

Gentle, reliable, fun and free

Help me be like my beautiful child of three.

Sudden Thoughts In My Head

Sudden thoughts in my head

Begging to get free

Jolt my mind, inspiring me

To write some poetry.

Describing all the memories

From deep within my soul

Requires the skill of ancient scribe

Illuminating thought on scroll.

Colouring with comparison,

Suggest with simile,

Adjectives and adverbs

Turn my memory from grey

Into reds and greens and luscious blues,

Purple, orange and violet hues,

Enabling others gather clues

To the mysteries of my mind.

Words rushing round my head

Needing to get free

I write them down, releasing them,

Creating poetry.

Poem about Ireland

I was born in the shadow of Irish greats

Kavanagh, Heaney, MacNeice, Yeats.

Their words in verse echo softly

Inspiring me to write poetry.

Their Ireland is a different place

Frozen with words in time and space

Rural, green, catholic, poor,

Not this age of ever-consuming more.

“Romantic Irelands dead and gone

It’s with O’Leary in the grave”

Children singing hip hop songs

Then heading out to all-night raves.

The Celtic tiger consumed us all

Capitalism quickening our downfall.

Is this why we fought so long

Romantic Ireland dead and gone.

Our history a bloody mess

Our language, culture, past suppressed

With pride we stood and defended our land

Brothers and sisters hand in hand.

We always knew we were not slaves

Freedom from tyranny all we craved

Soldiers of destiny, spirited and brave

Now Irish martyrs turn in their graves.

We’ve taken our freedom to chose who we be

To become just like our old enemy

Our language is english, our culture is bland

Consumerism is the true love of this land.

Where once there was passion is now apathy

Our new role models American celebrities

Why is Eastenders on our RTE

And why did we fight if this is being free.

The Ireland I want is the one we all planned

The dream we once had is what I now demand

A green utopia, where all peoples are free

Violence and guncrime ancient history.

I wish for a land where no MacDonalds exist

And fun is no longer confined to being pissed

Where foreign people can come as they chose

And people in poverty no longer lose.

Where money is valueless and people aren’t needy

And consumerism recognised as being just greedy

Where people live with, not exploiting, the land

And united together stand hand in hand.

So people of Ireland please listen to me

Lets all fight together this time peacefully

To make this little island a great place to be

Free from all tyrannies, whatever they may be.