sometimes what you need to say is nothing at all
I sit and stare and still it’s white
No word or sentence
I can write
But as I look
The page so bare
I realise that
there’s something there
elegant paper
soft to touch
I hear it speak
It says so much….
Sometimes, especially in youth, things seem so big that they are insurmountable, but then you often realise that it is the little things that really matter and that anything can be achieved. Every day is a new day to start again, regardless of the big or the little thing. As we age and mature, what was the ‘big thing’ will often pale into insignificance and what was the ‘little thing’ is often the most important thing. Its called perspective.
Surrounded by her family, yet feeling so alone
all is safe and peaceful, in this happy family home
but as she sat at the table, concealing how she feels
the hurt and desperation are really very real
she doesn’t want to burden them, or tell them they were right
instead she’ll keep it with her and end it all tonight
she wants to say she loves them, but her throat begins to close
the words are trapped and stuck there, of the secret no one knows
growing up is difficult, but then to be betrayed
of the love in a relationship, how could she possibly stay?
for when the drink was taken, a monster he became
no one could control him, or even make him tame
so as much as he said he loved her, his fists said otherwise
no more could she bare the agony of the beatings or the lies
not yet even twenty, yet she felt life had no meaning
ashamed of what she’d put up with, had left her true self reeling
so as she went to bed that night, she studied all the pills
they only way to stop the pain – it had been a a battle of the wills
she thought about her family, and she began to cry
deep down inside, within her heart, she didn’t want to die
she knew no other way to stop the hurt and pain
and so she took all the pills and on her bed she lay
sometimes without explanation, an intervention occurs
for when she woke the next morning a ‘voice’ had spoke to her
it’s not your time to go now, don’t be so alarmed
the tablets that you’ve taken, have left you quite unharmed
go and live your life, you are stronger than you think
and then the voice disappeared as quick as she could blink
she felt a little groggy, astounded and so shocked
but soon she felt the strength enough, but her secret would stay locked
she swore she would do something, and make her life worthwhile
no more being trod upon and soon she would smile
now when she looks back on that time, oh so long ago
she’s thankful for that ‘intervention’, that helped to make her grow
and realised that a mind so young, can be easily disturbed
and loose sight of what can be achieved, if we share and we observe
so when around the table, at family dinner time
be sure to check with your young ones, that they are doing fine
and if they appear distant or even a little aloof
sometimes that is just enough to offer you some proof
that maybe all is not so well, so tread kindly and be open
let them know you’re there for them, and would help if they feel broken
it may must be the start, that they feel that they can tell
when all that’s going on in their life, is really not going so well.
Even as they grow, the worrying never stops
You worry too much; she says with a laugh…..
It’s not funny to me
But 17 years old, her head full of ideas
No clue of the reality that drives my fears
You worry too much, rings in my ear……
It’s a mother’s job
Get them ready to flee the nest
Prepare them well to do their best
You worry too much; I know what I’m doing……
I’m happy and sad
I want her to soar and not be hurt
Be treated well and not like dirt
You worry too much; it will be O.K……
Too trusting she is
Easily led by so called friends
Who’ll take from her and not make amends
You worry too much; she says with a sigh…….
I know her weakness
Beats herself up at the hint of criticism
Facing into a world full of scepticism
You worry too much I say to her….
Some things don’t matter
It’s the beauty within that shines so bright
Imperfections outside don’t dim the light
You worry too much what people think….
Be true to yourself
Show kindness to others but also to you
Sort the wheat from the chaff and know who is who
You worry too much of material things
They don’t matter
Honesty and truth, integrity and grit
Keep them with you always in your precious tool kit
We worry too much because we care
It’s a battle
It comes from within, deep in the gut
It comes from the heart which is full of love
all we are certain of is now….
When the buds unravel and unfurl in their splendour
it’s time
when a heart skips a beat and you get lost in loves wonder
it’s time
when a mother first sees you and holds you in her arms
it’s time
when a loved one takes their last earthly mortal breath
it’s time
when the moon and stars shines light in the darkness
it’s time
when the sun’s warm embrace soothes and rests on your face
it’s time
when sadness, hurt and despair are choking and squeezing you
it’s time
and when faith and hope and love collide, and give reason and understanding, it gives power in the now, this hour, this second, this moment in time
it’s time to embrace and endure to look and to listen, to feel and to heal, respect and accept
it’s time
a time to remember our loved ones on national poetry day and remember the strengths and weaknesses that can tie us together….
What a fair and curious child little Julia was
Happy to sit and play and dance and gather up the moss
A tall man would come from just up the road
his house so very different, from the house where she had grown
he’d pay her a visit from time to time, she was thrilled for such attention
for a child so young she would notice her siblings got no mention
and as she played in the bog, others around would tease her
still, merrily in her naivety, she wouldn’t let it displease her
sometimes he’d give her a penny and place it in her hand
she’d curl her fingers around it, and wonder about this man
she never quite knew why he came to spend time with her alone
He’d wander from the big house, the one that made the quarry stone
she just a farmer’s daughter tending to their lot
fierce with pride and dignity they took care of what they got
her daddy with his callused hands and furrows on his brow
looked tired and worn and beaten down, his eyes full of sorrow
many mouths to feed he ploughed right on and his eldest daughter helped
as she swept and cleaned and cooked for those, up at the big house
her mother busied daily, keeping Julia close by her side
this little child she loved so much had filled her heart with pride
for Julia was only 4 years old in the year of 1916
unaware of the trouble and toils that came from the Easter Rising
A simple carefree country girl now the only one left at home
Her big brother and big sister, to England they had flown
But still he came, the tall gentleman, and sit and sip some tea
Cautious in how he spoke to her and to her mammy
Polite in his manner, he wore a rather tall hat
Always tipped, then took it off and laid it on his lap
A man with many children, he had a large family
Julia never understood, ‘why does he come see me’
His older son was sent away when he was only 16
To join the British army and has not been back to Meath
Well that was 4 years ago now and though he is very proud
There is something hanging over his head like a big grey cloud
Mammy seems a little sad, when the man comes by to chat
But she is polite and kind to him and Julia is pleased with that
When Julia is only 9 years old the man could come no more
Some say it was a broken heart, but they cannot be sure
Not yet a man of 60, his time had come to pass
No more would he wander down from the big stone house
As Julia grew older it was time to tell the truth
The tall man was her grandpa, yet she didn’t have a clue
Her mammy was really her nanny and raised her as her own
And her ‘mammy’ was her sister where to England she had flown
And later on after that her ‘father’ too would visit
Back from the British Army, he came back home to Meath
Always through a veil of somewhat secrecy
George would visit Julia with his new wife, the Lady
And though she felt quite happy that they would come for tea
It was a reminder of how very proud she was of her strong family
For back in the year 1912 it must have been unnerving
But strength and pride and dignity were qualities they were preserving
Did you know the extent of the words we use today are attributed to Shakespeare…. There are 422 bona fide words apparently
Known to have invented/coined/minted over 400 new words, I have put a few (61) together here for my amusement. They are in italics… Enjoy
An Ode to fellow writers who like the written word
I may unearth a little tale that you may think absurd.
I was born not far from Stratford, birthplace of the ‘Bard’
easily accessible from my old front yard.
Well to your amazement you might find this lacklustre
that I wasn’t really into him, though he was an indistinguishable buster.
Is not that he’s disgraceful, distrustful or distasteful,
he simply wasn’t my cup of tea; I know I sound ungrateful.
I’m not being sanctimonious or engaging in rumination
but I’d rather hang out, if I could with an ill-tempered Dalmatian.
I know for others, he is king and really hard to rival
but I think I’m more impartial to reading the blessed bible!
I’ve been to his house a few times as I’m a little fascinated,
of course the tour began downstairs with a honey-tongued man named David
He had a hunchbacked girlfriend, she was quite a hoot
If she mixed up her lines however, he would show his hobnail boot!
David was ill-tempered this I can’t deny
I heard at their engagement, she had a little cry
I told her not to dwindle, that he was too domineering
she ought to end this courtship and audition for the ‘girl with the pearl earring’.
I don’t mean to be critical but some things just must be said
Of course its circumstantial but I’m not really that well read
I don’t think Shakespeare was fair-faced, he’d had a lot of exposure
but his plays and poems were equivocal in written word disclosure
In his pretty garden there is a rather large footfall
Of people listening to his ‘Acts’; not out playing football
I came across a fortune-teller, suffering with leaky gut
She was a promethean psychic, with a rather large butt
What she said was priceless, over credulous more like
So I became a little hostile and slept on it that night
I think she was a madwoman of that I must lament
she told me that Will Shakespeare, at night to her was sent
as he watched her undress he would have a fitful fap
and when he had quite finished, she would stand up and clap
You see why I am so fretful at this foulmouthed hot-blooded woman
Why would she just stand there while the Bard was ‘coming’
What an auspicious story, it makes me want to shudder
I think she must be lonely and her mind is in the gutter.
His house is quite a wonder, nook-shotten here and there
I even saw his marriage bed when I went upstairs
The guide was watching closely like useful watchdog
Ensuring nothing useless would get past the sod
So here I am to educate myself as I write this
My aim is to humor and of course to reminisce
Because I didn’t know that Shakespeare had invented so many words
I may not be reclusive, but I’m a fairly kickie-wickie girl
I hope you get your moneys-worth if you ever pay a visit
It’s really quite majestic for the time that was in it
I could keep going on and on for there are 422 words minted
By the zany William Shakespeare of which we have been gifted
I’m not one for braggartism so I really will end it here
Don’t be too cold-hearted let me hear some Cheer!
‘we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with sleep’
The Tempest Act 4, Scene 1
Sometimes it is the little things that end up being the big things. Capt. Thomas Moore is a prime example….
Can I tell you that you’ve moved me
with your simple act of kindness
to walk around your garden
has done more than just to bind us
in uniting in our thanks and praise
it has opened up our eyes
to show that simple gestures
can bring the biggest surprise
a selfless man just ‘helping out’
as you done so in the war
but let me tell you Captain Tom
you have done so much more
you’ve shown a generation of what it means to count
a credit to society, of that there is no doubt
as for the doctors and nurses
for which you bravely fight
the amount you have raised in money terms
is truly an awesome sight
it started with a single step
and caused such a furore
i’d like to say ‘I salute you’
Sir Captain Thomas Moore
I truly hope your birthday
gets the celebration it deserves
your name will be in history books
and forever be preserved
As for your family, a pride they surely feel
and the people who got behind you
it really is surreal
So a round of applause for this great man
and those who have donated
putting your money where your mouth is
without feeling obligated
and thanks to all the medical
and other front line staff
we are so very humbled
as we watch you walk your path
lets hope when this is all over
and we cast a grateful net
of love, of grief, yet hope and peace
lest we forget
in these uncertain times we have enough to worry about. The most important thing to worry about it staying safe and well and keeping others safe and well. Worrying about rent, mortgages, businesses etc should not be part of our burden now. I think the governments, around the world should just press pause, from the beginning of march and reboot, when this is all over, so no more debt accumulates, adding to people’s already enormous burden of keeping well.
It didn’t seem so serious, not really
Not at first
Everyone carried on as normal engaging with life
Wrapped up in it, in work or family, despair, debt
The rat race
December, a month of mixed emotions
Full of demands, from excitement to dread
Christmas
A new unexpected trend was banded about this year
It was ‘Corona Virus’
We heard it mentioned, but it was ‘over there’
We carried on as normal, in the rat race
Wrapped up in work, in family, in despair and debt
Beware the ides of March!
Now we began to listen to take notice
It was here, it was everywhere
Stockpile, panic buy, carry on
With daily life, with family, work, despair and debt
Spreading, dying, ignorance and fear
Lockdown
Essential, frontline, social distancing, cocoon
Wash, wash wash your hands
Don’t touch your face
Stay safe at home
Get out of the rat race
Press pause
Flatten the curve, it will save lives
Don’t be a fool, ignorance is not bliss
It is fatal
The world is broke, full of despair, fear and debt
Press pause
Take time to reflect.
Connect
With fresh eyes, find a way
It’s about people and love and life
Humanity
The rat race, dead in the water
It’s a boulder, laying heavy on your shoulder
The graves are the same depth
Press pause
When it’s over, when it’s been contained
Let a new contagion begin
A kind one, a helpful one, a fair one
Not one full of ignorance, hate, debt or regret
Press play and begin anew
Wipe the slate clean
Let families flourish and businesses carryon
Without the noose
We are all in the same boat
Let’s not accumulate the entire ocean in it and sink
A new world, a new world game
The human race
Let’s heal the world, play your part
Let our leaders play theirs
Let them lead, honourably, wisely, honestly and fairly
Press pause
So that we can embrace the pause
So we may cocoon and stay safe at home
So we may slow the spread
So that we may flatten the curve
So that we may not put our essential frontline staff at risk
So that our frontline staff may be rewarded for their bravery
Tenacity and courage
So that when we un-press pause
The new world looks like a brighter place
Not full of despair, like in the rat race
The strong, the weary , the substitute and the absent… you are doing a great job….
Mothers,
once were little girls, dreaming of the beautiful world
in which to make their mark
Cuddling their teddy or little rag doll,
not knowing life could be so stark
for becoming a mother gives feelings like no other
in the lightness and the dark
The fear begins at the very beginning
and seems to never abate
the love so great, hard to contemplate
how to keep you from ever getting hurt
fear of the unknown as we watch you grow
always on high alert
the bonds that they share with the children they bare
is one, only they can know
they prep and they nurture and try not to hurt ya
as they watch their babies grow
into upstanding adults, as they swim without paddles
when finally, they must let you go
They continue to worry, so try not to hurry
just go about life at your best
It’s hard on your mother, to let you discover as
you seek out and fly from the nest
Some, not so lucky to feel this love or have the same strong bond
you may live with another, not your actual mother,
who will love you and hope you’ll respond
for love it can come, in all shapes and sizes
and mother’s can come in all sorts of guises
it’s the love that matters, no matter life’s tatters
that brings you into the fold
so on this mothers day, all that I pray
is that ‘I love you’, is what’s being told
Watching the program on RTE,:Redress, breaking the silence, I was very sad, angry and upset for the victims. I wrote down words some had used and put them into this poem. For all people of abuse, institutional or otherwise, Keep fighting, keep surviving,
Redress
What am I?
I ask of you, I ask of me
In the eyes and minds of others, do you see me?
Do we see the trees, in the woods?
The intricacies, the forms and shapes
Each piece, from root to tip
Some of it medicine, some of it poison
What is at the core?
Covered and disguised from and by
Outward appearance
The beauty, the ugly, the refined, the wild
Enclosed, hidden, cocooned, protected?
Still it grows, it lives, it flourishes and survives
It smiles, frowns, laughs and cries
It performs, protects, gives life and reason.
It can multiply, it is duplicitous
It is harmful, outraged, calm
Yet, there is a serenity and purity and no shame or blame
So what do you see…. Me?
Shall I concede, should I?
Is it for me, to redress, to confess the sin, of you, of them
like a virus, I am infected,
I am confident in my trauma
It is cemented in and resides within me
It guards me, it is my shield, My weapon, my curse
My shame?
So please, enlighten me
What am I?
A thing, a tool, a vessel, a release
A scapegoat for your, justice!
Money, a pay check, a sealed envelope to be locked away
75 years
I will be long dead, so tell me
Who is the criminal here?
The long dark despairing days fell on me
On my shoulders, on my soul
Where was or is my protection?
I am here
I live, I breathe, I survived
I will not be hushed or gagged anymore
I will vomit up and release this infection
And you shall set right this wrong
You will hear me when I set it free
Like a bird emerging from the tree tops
Soaring through the air, spreading its wings
Sharing to the world, what I am
I am innocent
I am grown, not a child anymore
I am injured but strong
I am bitter, but I found sweetness
I am cautious, but I am loved
I am not your victim
I am a survivor
I will not be silenced
Suicide and death, I have danced with, entertained and willed
But then you win
I am life, I am loss, I am grief-stricken,
I am decent, I am human
Tell me, what are you?
