Time to wake from the slumber

Yawn and stretch, and check your number

Time to eat, time to go

Time to learn, time to grow

Time for work, time for bed

Time to go where you are lead

Time for work, time for school

Time to do something cool

Time do a chore or two

Time to spend time with you

Time for me to work it out

Time to scream, time to shout

Time to laugh, time to cry

Time to sulk and wonder why

Time to feel sadness and pain

Time to start to live again

Time to think, and check the past

Time to walk, be free at last

Time for fear, the net is gone

Time for love, you are the one

Time to know love starts with you

Time to try pastures new

Time for sorrow, time for tears

Time wondering, where are those years

Time to to clean, to mop and wipe

Time to wonder, what is this life

Time to stop, to breath and see

Time for you, them, and me

Time for something and nothing at all

Time to dance, time to fall

Time to be quiet, to think and ponder

Time to cherish, time to wonder

Time for time to make it happen

Time to know what is your weapon

Time for calm, time for peace

Time to let the beast release

Time for today, it’s all that’s promised

Time to embrace opportunities missed

Time to know that time will stop

Time for redemption to stay on top

Time is time, it will carry on

Time infinite after we’ve gone

The other side of ‘bringing it home’

So it begins, the cheers, the anticipation, the trepidation, the wanting and wanton. The two sides. Your side, my side, anything but that side.

Neighbours, friends, enemies, nay sayers, people, sheeple, men, women and children. Hoping and praying, some that it will, others that it wont ‘come home’.

‘We wont hear the last of it’ some say. ‘I’d just like to see the other side have a chance’. ‘Their media always big them up, it just gets on my nerves’. ‘Anyone but England, I couldn’t bear it if they won’. Just a few of the comments I hear constantly at this crucial stage of the world cup, from this island of Ireland.

I hear from liverpool supporters, man u supporters, Chelsea, Everton and Man City. What a pity, I think. A pity that there is still such a (not so friendly) divide when it comes to the England team.

What ever the reason, whatever the excuse, I cannot but feel sorry, for you. Sorry that your history is still your present. Sorry that your influence has probably been drilled into you from school, parents, grand parents, perhaps.

Maybe your real self wants to cheer for your neighbour, your current neighbour, not your historical neighbour. The one where your Irish football players go join your neighbours’ football teams so they can fulfil their dreams of being a professional footballer.

Maybe one day your sons will want to play too. What conflict will they feel in order to please their parent whilst denying their dream.

Who is the ‘baddie’ now. Dont we enjoy trade, dont we enjoy English T.V ? Gone are the days of just 2 channels (thankfully). Dont we enjoy tourism to boost our economy from so many of them damn English!

If a child does something wrong and the adult over steps the mark in their punishment, who is wrong? The adult screams and shouts and condems the child and holds a grudge until it seeps into his very bones with anger, and so he lashes out. Is it still the child’s ‘fault’ for being naughty in the first place?

A horrendous past, a horrendous history can only heal with forgiveness. Forgivness of others and of ourselves.

I hate to see hatred, for all it does is create hatefulness. And hatefulness creeps and seeps,and in the end destroys. It destroys relationships, it destroys friendships it destroys joy.

What joy it would be if we could celebrate if England won tonight and our neighbours could rejoice in that fact.

Someone said on the radio today that the Irish dont need a reason to celebrate anything. Ive seen that, they can for the most part be fun, have the craic, celebrate wins and even losses.

That is why as a girl born in England to 100 % Irish parents, grandparents and generational Irish heritage, I feel sorry for those of you, who cannot or will not or feel they should not celebrate if England ‘bring it home’, especially those that support English clubs.

Of course its your right, your privilege and your choice as it is mine to choose to not be defined by past history.

The soldier

Happy days filled with laughter

A time gone by, there was disaster

Crawling, dragging across the floor,

Not me, not now, not anymore

Squeals of delight as freedom calls

No longer chained in hazardous walls

Normal life no bombs no blasts

It’s not my job, it’s in my past

I watch the world in civy street

Normal faces i come to meet.

Walking, driving, dashing around

I keep my feet firmly on the ground

An accidental shove or push

I feel the blood through my veins, rush

Its all ok, just stay calm

No need to fret, there is no harm

Hurry, I rush back to my beauty

No more orders, no more duty

What now for me, when all is done?

No more use for a grenade or gun

What will I hold in these hands of mine?

A different peace, more simple and kind.

A soldier I was, driven by orders

Peace or power, protect our borders

Now I am but another man

Where do I belong, in no mans land?

The screams the crys the shrieks the laughs

They’re jumbled up, and crossing paths

Happy, sad, content or sorrow

Ive no idea how i’ll face tomorrow

Ive walked away from that hazardous time

Now to tell my traumatic mind

Its ok now, it is all in the past

But memories like that, are made to last

My shoes

The crunch of the sand beneath my feet

I feel them sink in the soft damp grain, while the salty water sweeps over, and splashes up my calf

The wind blows through my hair and whips it back from my face

I keep walking at steady pace, my mind filled with thoughts…. thoughts of you

I cannot but wonder if all is well, and as i do, i feel my heart swell.

Children playing, digging deep, the roar of laughter, interrupts my thoughts and I want to remain

In this moment, the twilight sky, the salty fresh smell, as my feet continue, leading the way

Pounding and sinking as they go , to somewhere, yet nowhere, this I know

The squawk of the gull, as it swoops then ascends, alone in its quest, it has no friends

Still i continue, my heart beating fast, then suddenly i stop, I’ve arrived at last

Conclusions they come, sometimes good sometimes bad. Nevertheless its an answer whether happy or sad

Wonder i must as I turn around, again my feet, they pound the ground

Go from my head, it no use to me, to wonder and hope of what it could be

Over the dunes, the sun sets bright red

A reminder of words, bygone days, once said

Empty and futile, yet once so sincere

But its only me now, and my shoes that are here

Words they are so easy to string

Along with a kiss, an embrace and a ring

Where are you though. As the waves crash the strand, not here with me holding my hand

Alone I must go and keep moving on

For it’s beauty, it’s life and i know I have won

Sing the song of the sweethearts desire and wrap up the thoughts that once would conspire

Futile and empty, they mean nothing now

I walk and I walk in the crunch of the sand

No man, child or beast to tell or demad


The hum of the engine purring and whirring

People pass by oblivious to me sitting there, waiting.

Spokes on tyres like a kaleidoscope making patterns- seems like an optical illusion

The curve of the bridge, traffic slowing going over, to finally stop at the command of the red light

Life all round, busy moving

A dog and his master walk swiftly in front of my view

A couple, holding hands…. huh Love, hope it lasts

A big jeep comes closer, a tiny woman steps out… dressed like a city girl, no muck about

The shiny motorbike and men clad in leather, they must be hot, it’s balmy weather

Still I wait to make my next move

Take a sigh, a deep breath, close my eyes, eager and ready

No more waiting….. it’s time to go

In my day ….

In my day I got about by walking, mostly.

My school seemed miles away, little legs, little steps. A child of 5 years old, dawdling behind my older brothers, it took an age, but we got there eventually.

I especially liked this time of year with lilac trees in full bloom, the scent of the purple and white, made the journey even more pleasurable.

Not a care in the world as I walked the same path day after day year after year.

The houses, net curtains some gleaming white, others not so sparkling.

The gardens with walls, fences, hedges and open drives.

The weeds, the flowers the rockery, if you were posh and some with broken paths.

‘Hold my hand, we’re crossing the road’ . I do as my brother tells me and feel his grasp as I slip my hand into the safety of his.

We look left and right and left again and safely make it to the other side.

We stop at the shop, a quarter of sherbet in a cone shaped bag. I suck my finger and dip it in. The sweet, crunchy, yet sour too, dissolves on my tongue and I dip again and again, until it’s all gone.

Half an hour or more has passed, were nearly there, I see the gates at last.

Crowds of children heading to school. Cars rushing by and buses too. People walking, some fast some slow. Dogs barking sometimes sirens blaring.

Cracks in the pavement, avoid at all cost. A game or compulsion, not sure at this stage. Counting in my head each step of the way.

Good morning, hello, oops excuse me, move you’re in my way. Expressions and greetings everyday.

Coat on the hanger and head to the hall. Assembly starts for one and all. We start with a prayer and end with one too. The stuff in between is when I think of you.

You, the world, outside of my place, when I’m all grown up and take my place. What will it be, what will I do. My legs will be bigger, my steps will be too.

When I’m older, in that day, I wonder if I’ll wonder what it was like in my day !

Hey You !

You don’t know it yet, but you are in for quite a ride and are going to hit a few bumps but…..

pexels-photo-1028451.jpegI remember it well and to be honest, I wouldn’t want to be there again, it was an awful place to be, for me personally I mean.   You have no choice, you have to go there too and you have to experience it for yourself to know how it will be for you, but let me tell you this.  You will survive it, with the right set of skills, support, resources, stamina and true grit, you will get beyond it!

The first thing you will notice when you get there are the changes in your body,  hairs sprouting out of places where they have no business being, spots appearing like they are in competition with the chicken pox, not to mention hair as greasy as fried chicken.  The real killer, the mood swings.  Anything ranging from sweet Shirley Temple  to Cruella Deville in 0 to 60 seconds and to add insult to injury you  will have no idea of who you are and will irrationally and radically search for your  identity.  A smooth ride it WILL NOT be.    Attitude, Identity theft,  extreme expression through clothes, music, rebellious behaviour, dieting, bingeing, smoking, drinking, sex and drugs, all there for the taking and risking.  ‘Lead me not into temptation’ not for all of them anyway!  It will get messy, it will noisy, it will get confusing, it will get depressing, it will be fun, it will be a complete contradiction and you will think you are IT as some stage and at some stage you will wish you could be a child again, or an adult and want to skip IT.    IT is exhausting…….  IT  is THE TEENAGE YEARS….AHHHHH

Sure, there will be twists and turns, there will be bumps in the road, there will be times of pure exhilaration, there will be LOVE, there will be HEARTACHE, there will be moments of madness and moments of stillness, but you will have to go through it,  so that you can come out the other side of it and find out who you are and what you are made of.   The skills you will learn will be mind boggling.  The skills your parents will  learn will be eye opening…. who knew they could be so mean, strict, sarcastic, fierce BRAVE!

They have been there, seen it, done it, got the T Shirt.  They rocked it.  It was better in their day, simpler, kinder, cooler.  The trouble now is, while they are battling with you and your tantrums, and your mood swings and your cheek and your pushing and prodding of their boundaries, they are most probably fighting their own battle and their own identity crises.   The MENOPAUSE, (male and female).  The changes in their body, the sweats, the forgetfulness – “sorry, who are you” they ask ” I have no idea” you reply.  Mum’s boobs begin to droop causing her distress.  Dads boobs begin to develop in a cruel twist  to make mum feel less distressed.  Muscle turns to flab and  dad’s six pack inflates  so he resembles buddha and mum  has an uncanny resemblance to the michelin man.

While you are on the crest of the wave splishing and splashing and tumbling and flying to a newer fitter more confident version of you, they are well and truly slam dunked into the ocean of ‘What the hell is going on’.    The dawning of realisation that ‘youth’ is soon to be leaving you and ‘youthfulness’ has well and truly over spilleth from them and they are heading towards a newer disturbing version of them!

So, hey you, be kind, be good, be healthy and wise, gather those skills,  they are worth more than any money buys. 

Be kind to your daughters, sons, mum’s and dad’s.  The changes you’re all facing, is just a fad. 

A phase, a lapse of time in space, try get through it, with dignity and grace.  But if you can’t, that’s OK too, after all, it’s just the rebel in you!