Poems, Essays and Music
She’d only gone in for carrots and sprouts
(She’d heard they were 29p
For the festive period, not bad at all
Thought she’d have some with her tea
She crept through giant tinsel
A neon flashing Hell
American accents on repeat
Wailed a jazzed-up “Jingle Bells…”
A lways have a bloody cold
U mbrella inside out
T rod in dog shit under leaves
U p all night with fireworks…..
Dear Alcohol
We have had a long and bumpy relationship, but thank you for the haze. The half-oblivion when total oblivion seemed attractive.
We’ve had trial separations before, I know. But this time it feels different…
Angry faces, emails
Texts going PING
Loud voices, tabloids
Bills, wedding rings….
Blow me! I’ve reached half a century
And the devil still ain’t sent for me
I wonder if this is how it’s meant to be
Just me and a skip full of memories?..
We went to pick blackberries up in the woods
With a plastic bowl each and our old welly boots
But the berries were smaller than in previous years
And you said, ”We’ll not find the best ones ‘round here…”
Kathy O’Toole was a painter, not the ones you hang on walls
But skirting boards and ceilings, window frames and doors
Steel-capped boots, jeans slung low, curls cut close to her head
Paint on her t-shirt, between her toes
Big Irish smile wherever she went
Kathy O’Toole came from Cavan but a-travellin’ she did go
And we met her in London in a pub on City Road
Oh we weren’t in a hurry ‘cos it was Friday night
And 5 or 6 pints later
We’d put the world to rights…
I’ve started to look at them again
Cynical, handsome drunken men
Trilbies perched poetically upon their troubled heads
Broken tired hearts made of lead….
Being a ‘love child’ of the war
My Mother’s up and gone
And had a DNA test
To find out where she’s from…
You’re nothing special you’re not so great
Take a look at yourself now you’re not off your face
Old Aunt Mediocrity knocks at your door
It’s starting to look like you were a fraud…
