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
Daddy overseas, mammy withdrawn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
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,
Poem about Ireland
I was born in the shadow of Irish greats
Kavanagh, Heaney, MacNeice,
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
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
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
Why is Eastenders on our RTE
And why did we fight if this is
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
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
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,
And united together stand hand in hand.
So people of Ireland please listen to me
Lets all fight together this
To make this little island a great place to be
all tyrannies, whatever they may be.