a few i attempted recently hope ya like em

Breaking the circle

He sits by the river thinking could it get any worse,

How can he change all this anger in his life?

He knows it’s his fault and see’s it as a curse,

He is full of remorse and can’t face his wife,

 

She sits by the table wondering what she has done,

That has them both on a different page,

Marriage and love are no longer fun,

Now it’s all anger and pain and rage,

 

In the bedroom upstairs their child lays sleeping,

He jumps at the least little noise,

His father has left again with him there’s no keeping,

Accusations of deceit and telling him lies,

 

He knows in his heart that it’s wrong to lash out,

He can’t understand why he snaps,

The river is calling him “come in” with a shout,

Is life worth trying they are better of alone perhaps?

 

A bruise on her brow as she checks out her face,

The place where he landed his hand,

She longs for a memory of a much better place,

When life and love were so grand,

 

As she cleans up the mess she feels a cold shiver,

And heads up to check on her son,

His body floats aimlessly down in the river,

A new kind of pain has begun,

 

Confusion now is a part of her thinking,

As his death slips slowly on by,

Nightmares of how his mind it was sinking,

To that river he looked for his only alloy,

 

The bruise on her brow long since has healed,

As she takes up a new lease on life,

Now her son lashes out his temper revealed,

She has learned from his newly wed wife,

 

But sort him she will no love shall he kill,

As his father before him left her bereft,

She did all she could to try keep him good,

With the last ounce of breath she has left,

 

The circle now broken her son a changed man,

His anger did not for long last,

All living together and working to a plan,

Like that river bad memories long since in the past.

 

 

Who would believe it?

She has no idea what he does all day long,

Sat at home while she goes out to earn her pay,

He’s out of work and everything he does is wrong,

Whatever he tries gets lost on her each day,

 

As soon as she comes in the door she starts,

With what did you do while I toiled and slaved?

And he tries to tell her that he nearly took part,

In a job search scheme but she simply waves,

 

Her food is ready but she says it’s not hot,

And also she adds it looks just like crap,

And with that she gets up and throws the lot,

And with the plate gives him a slap,

 

No job no confidence he is feeling the pinch,

And she is so angry all the time,

She looks at him now and calls him a Grinch,

Never again will this marriage be fine,

 

Not a day goes by when she doesn’t throw something at him,

And usually she doesn’t miss,

He’s been bruised and had the odd black eye,

There must be something better then this,

 

He can’t tell anyone because of the shame,

And she’s a good foot shorter the he,

No more is this a fun little game,

He lives in pain all because of she,

 

She comes home at the end of her day,

And there is a note on the hall table,

There is nothing more left to say,

Other then he just isn’t able,

 

Alone is much better then being battered?

No fear of a key in his door,

They lost sight of the reality that matters,

He left he couldn’t take any more,

 

She searches the house for a trace,

Of where he is or might be in hiding,

No sign of him left in her place,

There is no one now that she can confide in,

 

Confidence high a new job a new life,

He is making his way in the world,

She was always sorry was his wife,

Never again into that place he’ll be hurled.

 

Doubting Thomas

Where do you go to my dearest, when you are leaving my bed?

Is your mind thinking the clearest of thoughts deep inside your head?

Was it me that you thought of then, as we made such passionate love?

I thought it was good enough when, you screamed to heaven above,

 

When I touched you, moved your hair so I could look upon face,

Did you smile at me or glare as you went and left me in this place?

Now I lay here in this bed, where we just created heat,

Doubt has crept into my head; alone I feel defeat,

 

Yet I recall I touched your thigh, you moaned and held me close,

Was that a hurry up sigh, did I not try my utmost,

Was I wrong to ask was it good, as we made love all night long,

I guess I never understood, if I was doing it right or wrong,

 

Was it a tear I saw in your eye, as you left I thought for home?

Is it me that made you cry, is this why I lay here alone?

Am I a doubting Thomas, with a mind that’s so distressed?

That light that shone upon us, did I fail or pass your test,

 

The bed has since gone cold, in the time that you’ve been gone,

I feel not young but old; to no generation do I belong,

So much time it seems has passed, as in the afterglow I lay,

Will it blossom will it last, is there something I can say,

 

Have you left and not looked back, are you gone and lost forever,

Is there something that I lack, will you return or call me never,

Is that noise I hear, coming from my stairs?

Could it be all of my fears will yet see me in tears?

 

You stand now in the doorway, looking somewhat aglow,

My doubting has had its own say, my heart should really know,

To the kitchen for a drink, was where you went just then,

Each time you leave my heart sinks, you might not return again,

 

Oh I am a doubting Thomas; I doubt everything I do,

When pressure is upon us, I always look to you,

The bed is nice and warm now, but will she leave again,

Oh I am a doubting Thomas and it really is a pain.

5-Nov-12

goodbye donal O

buried a fine man this weekend will miss him a lot
heres my tribute to him as a poet and a friend

Goodbye Donal O

A shadow of the man I have grown to know,

Lying there in this hospice bed now sleeping,

He will not be able to have the freedom to come or go,

And inside my hardened heart is weeping,

 

Outside the horses are eating grasses in the field,

As this mans eyes open and he tries to say hello,

His spirit is so strong that he cannot or will not yield,

His time not yet here and only he will know,

 

He asks to be sat in the chair by the window in the light,

That he might feel the sunlight cross his now ailing face,

To the very end he says he is duty bound to fight,

Before he is willing to give up on this place,

 

He has spent his whole life fighting for one thing or another,

Why would he consider taking the easy way out?

The mere thought of it just makes him shudder,

For this has not been what his time here has been all about,

 

Yet lying there I see the fight slowly dying in his eyes,

And he still tries to mend any wrong he may have done,

Not once have I heard any painful moans or cries,

As the light is fading from both him and the sun,

 

His time draw’s near now he sleeps more and more each day,

When I go to visit I just sit in that chair,

The time for talking is over almost done,

Somehow I think life can be so uncaring unfair,

 

Night time is falling on this day and on this man,

A sad day yet a good day for we are both parting as friend,

Recalling the first time we met and both of us knew,

A kindred spirit a likeness to whatever the end,

 

In my life such friends there are but a rare few,

And as the sun fades and the moon rises in the night sky,

And I think of the few short times we have spent,

The stories we can tell or the poetry we write or try,

 

Ours is a friendship that was short but heaven sent,

Your passing will bring a tear to many an eye,

Rest easy dear friend I for one will never forget,

How you lived nor how you died,

Your advice is something I’ll never regret,

As on that bed at low ebb you still tried.

7 October 2012

some recent stuff

these are some of my recent efforts as my computer is dead and i need a newer one or a replacement one so if any of you out there have one not being used i'd appreciate it ha worth a try eh? seeing as i borrowed this one for a short while but at any rate enjoy and feel free to comment good or bad at least you had a look
christy o donnell

HDV_0073_x264.mp4 proposal and a lesson learned from love

HDV_0071_x264.mp4 brain wave fickle friend

HDV_0070_x264.mp4 lost in kerry and lets do lunch

HDV_0069_x264.mp4 annual escape worth a listen if any garda are willing

HDV_0067_x264.mp4 the raid and cure all

age to manhood no prey here

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: bardic poet reading in the whitehouse bar

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: bardic poet reading in the whitehouse bar: by kind permission of donal o siodchain i posted these which could be a gem to all who like traditional bardic poetry from one of the last g...

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: ang to manhood

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: ang to manhood: coming of age for a young lad in the 70's also a priest visiting with the what appeared to be wrong intentions no PREY here Age to manhoo...

ang to manhood

coming of age for a young lad in the 70's
also a priest visiting with the what appeared to be wrong intentions
no PREY here
Age to manhood


The sun has not yet risen when he is up out of bed,

Silently he rises he has chores waiting ahead,

The fire must be lit with the sticks that he gathered,

In a house full of children to which none he has fathered,

The table must be set and the porridge put on the gas,

All things in their place for when the get ready for mass,

When this is done he must silently wake the brood,

Feed them their breakfast making sure they are good,

He calls them one by one from out of their sleep,

And slowly half aware down the stairs they creep,

To the kitchen to where the morning meal will be found,

They all know better then to make a single sound,

It’s a morning ritual having become habit as such,

Today is Sunday and they must all attend church,

Weekends were always a bit harder then most days,

When he could wander about at times in his own haze,

But then there was homework to help out with from school,

He had to be cleverer then most he would not be a fool,

Everyone helped out throughout the week,

Even the shy ones and those who were meek,

But Sunday after the Saturday night before,

When loud voices and fights and slamming of door’s,

This was a day when what was left in their wake,

Was best left sleeping for the children’s sake?

He was twelve going on thirteen,

But Sunday was a day where he could always be seen,

The spuds were peeled and the meat in the oven cooking,

When they got up hangover raging no need to be looking,

He’d learned you see there was always a fight,

Over something or other from a Saturday night,

And it went on into Sunday as chores were left undone,

No one else available so he became the one,

So at the ripe old age of thirteen he’d do all that he can,

This is the age he recalls that he became this man,

And as years passed and time just flew,

He still tries to make things easy doing whatever he can do.

05 Aug. 12

  No PREY here.

He came to visit the house of my mother,

As he did I imagined with many of the other’s,

It was a weekly thing and he seemed to bring fun,

There were smiling faces on most everyone,

He was the newest man of the cloth a parish priest,

And whenever he called there was always a feast,

Apple cakes baked in a nice hot oven,

And almost a full one in his mouth he was shoving,

Isn’t it a sin I thought harbouring ideas of greed,

You wouldn’t have thought it the way this man would feed,

It was a regular thing week after week,

And I soon noticed the sisters were playing hide but no seek,

So I chose to answer him at the door this fine summer’s day,

It was usually the sisters but they had gone to play,

Good day father I said as I opened the front door,

But he just passed me by he never did that before,

He greeted the mother, who was sat at her table,

And spoke for a few minutes yet he appeared a little unstable,

Would you like some tea I said and a deliberate mistake?

Or is it something stronger for you I should make,

Here I was thinking long and hard to myself,

There would be war if anyone went near the father’s top shelf,

Well he shook hands with the girls and had no time for the boys,

Even at fourteen us lads could spot all of his lies,

Whenever he shook hands he would always try to linger,

And tickle them softly with his little finger,

We knew this for each of us asked our own group of sister’s,

All said the same he’s no priest he’s a molester,

At the end of the week when he was to make his call,

He’d have a job passing me without notice in the hall,

Made aware of things that I knew nothing of before,

If he called he would be shocked at my mother’s door,

But call he did having made sure she was out,

Sure I dropped him to his knees on the doorstep with a clout,

A letter went out this day to your boss,

Now pack your bags and away with you ya coss,

Call no more to this house for your dues and free meal,

No more in this parish will you prey on and feel.

04 Aug. 12

bardic poet reading in the whitehouse bar

by kind permission of donal o siodchain i posted these which could be a gem to all who like traditional bardic poetry from one of the last greats in our fair land please feel free to comment on this site
eireann go braith

HDV 0064

HDV 0061

HDV 0062

HDV 0063

HDV 0060agetomanhoodandrailwaystables

real life real poetry for anyone who can read and likes a good laugh especially in this recession

when times were tough they were really tough and when there was no one or nothing left to have it fell on whomever was at hand to do all they could just to make life easier there is a contrast between these 2 poems where the need to help out is greater then the need to be caught out ha hope ye like them
christy o donnell

Age to manhood


The sun has not yet risen when he is up out of bed,

Silently he rises he has chores waiting ahead,

The fire must be lit with the sticks that he gathered,

In a house full of children to which none he has fathered,

The table must be set and the porridge put on the gas,

All things in their place for when the get ready for mass,

When this is done he must silently wake the brood,

Feed them their breakfast making sure they are good,

He calls them one by one from out of their sleep,

And slowly half aware down the stairs they creep,

To the kitchen to where the morning meal will be found,

They all know better then to make a single sound,

It’s a morning ritual having become habit as such,

Today is Sunday and they must all attend church,

Weekends were always a bit harder then most days,

When he could wander about at times in his own haze,

But then there was homework to help out with from school,

He had to be cleverer then most he would not be a fool,

Everyone helped out throughout the week,

Even the shy ones and those who were meek,

But Sunday after the Saturday night before,

When loud voices and fights and slamming of door’s,

This was a day when what was left in their wake,

Was best left sleeping for the children’s sake?

He was twelve going on thirteen,

But Sunday was a day where he could always be seen,

The spuds were peeled and the meat in the oven cooking,

When they got up hangover raging no need to be looking,

He’d learned you see there was always a fight,

Over something or other from a Saturday night,

And it went on into Sunday as chores were left undone,

No one else available so he became the one,

So at the ripe old age of thirteen he’d do all that he can,

This is the age he recalls that he became this man,

And as years passed and time just flew,

He still tries to make things easy doing whatever he can do.

05 Aug. 12
The railway stables


Watching an old mare that was ready to foal,

We noticed that the workers on the railway line had a goal,

They were putting two pump houses together for the company,

Working day’s on end to finish them in the sun you see,

They toiled for 3 weeks to get them just right,

Working long hours in the warm sun light,

Having finished they then got them ready for an electric cable,

When the thought struck me they’d make a very fine stable,

So it was decided that on this very night in the dark,

We’d dismantle them and in my backyard them we’d park,

While it took us all night both my friend and I,

If all else failed we would give it a damn good try,

And gone they were the very next morning,

The workmen stood there aghast and yawning,

From out of his bed my friend was pulled by his feet,

Three hefty garda to the courthouse he was given a seat,

Not on your own did you perform this dastardly deed,

Nor could you have done it for greed,

You will be held until your partner in crime here appears,

And if he fails to show I’ll guarantee you’ll be in tears,

So up with my hand from the rear of the court,

I’m here judge it’s myself to you I report,

Then a message was handed to the judge from his Clark,

And having read it all we heard was his bark,

It’s a thirty pound fine and the railway want to know,

The details of the robbery and want ye both their workers show,

Just how 2 young lads’ barley skin and bone,

Can do what ye did with those sheds ye took home,

Ye are sentenced to the company to show exactly how ye did,

Dismantle and transport those sheds that ye hid,

And how in gods name did you both in one night,

Do the work it took 3 men 3 weeks to get right,

So instead of being sent to a borstal or jail,

They paid our fine and we told them our tale,

Then back to the judge who was waiting in court,

The company gave us both a glowing report.

07 Aug. 12

mans fault jack and jillHDV 0058 trimmed

its always a mans fault and a funny jack and jill story turned into a poem

Jack and Jill


Here’s a little story about jack and Jill,

For whom everything in life was always up hill,

They had no kids but a fair and comfortably life,

Jack went to work Jill stayed home the dutiful wife,

When things went awry as they sometimes tend to do,

Jill as always never knew just what she had to do,

In her life it seemed there was always a drama,

Nothing was easy it took ages to calm her,

Then she discovered that she was going through the change,

Oh for god’s sake this was for old people not her she felt strange,

As with everything Jill did she knew what was best,

Hormone replacement she would put that to the test,

Without reading the instructions which might do her no harm,

Instead of one hormone patch she put 2 on her arm,

While jack slipped out early to work the next day,

He gave her a call for he had something to say,

She berated him loudly over waking her with the phone,

Piss off jack she said go back to work and leave me alone,

Hormone replacement he thought who is she fooling,

And wiped his mouth as he was now drooling,

And his tummy was now beginning to give him pain,

Going home to hormone Henrietta for comfort was in vain,

Again he tried telling Jill that he just wasn’t well,

I’m suffering daily she shouted I’m in menopausal bloody hell,

And with a little ache you spent your day to me making calls,

Yes he replied and now I have a pain in my balls,

It’s to bed with me Jill said you will be ok in the morning,

Try being a woman she said as she went upstairs yawning,

To bed they both went with jack still complaining,

I’m for the doctors in the morning if this pain is not waning,

As she turned to advise him to now turn out the light,

She saw his bare ass and laughed with the fright,

Your aches and pains jack are no more then a farce,

For there’s one of my hormone patches stuck onto your arse,

He should have known better with Jill for a wife,

It was drama after crises throughout their whole life.

30.07.2012

Inspired From a tale by Donal O Siodhachain

Mans fault

Apparently all women’s problems start with men,

And foolishly I ask oh really since when,

For instance she says mental stress,

And to this I must wholeheartedly confess,

It takes me 20 minutes to get ready to go out,

And I do it and feel no need to shout,

And what about menstrual cramps then she moans,

As on and on about how painful they are she groans,

Yet if I have a cramp I go out for a walk,

I don’t feel the need to get on the phone for hours to talk,

And still there it is the dreaded menopause,

Sweating for no reason does not warrant a round of applause,

My answer to that is simple and plain,

Your man is on a pause it’s why he never complains,

For every ailment that is known to mankind,

It is named after some woman I think you will find,

Some of which are really quite scary,

Do I have to mention Typhoid Mary?

And a venereal disease called Saigon rose,

Not everything in the world is mans fault as it goes,

But if you sit long enough put men before any word,

Your questions will be answered this I have heard,

From time beginning men have tried to p-lease,

But you made us put our name in front of every disease,

And now you complain the men just don’t care,

It’s all about us and we are never there,

It’s our fault it rained on the wedding day,

Is there anything else you want to blame us for I say?

Take a look at the letters in your species before man,

And split them up into a sentence if you really can,

Woe man is what you will see before your eyes,

Here in front of you not up in the skies,

And it seems to be woe from when he is first born,

For women will berate him louder then a fog horn

So for every ailment that has men before its name,

Look at the 2 letters before men there’s who to blame,

So in future if you want to blame man kind for woes,

Remember where the first 2 letters of that word goes,

i thank that man my mothers house

my mothers house and i thank that man

heres two i read last week in the open mike in the whitehouse bar limerick hope ya like em


My mother’s house


It never happened in my mother’s house,

She wouldn’t allow it not even for a mouse,

All the rooms were tidy and everything was in its own place,

Every child was shiny and had a nice clean face,

All the meals were on time and there was plenty there to eat,

Feeding 15 people was truly no easy feat,

And all the beds were single ones made up as we all arose,

For breakfast we sat each side of the table in two neat tidy rows,

No morsel of food ever hit her clean and shining floor,

No hinge ever creaked in her house from any kind of door,

The fire was always lit and in winter kept us warm,

No draft from open window which could be of any harm,

The cupboard was full and we never went without,

The sun was always shining whenever we went out,

None of us got ill and we never knew any pain,

All our summers were fun and we never saw the rain,

Our clothes were always washed and ironed laid on our bed,

Each of us had 2 fluffy pillows underneath our head,

Christmas we had presents and a huge pine needle tree,

So much so that we gave the poor some gifts for free,

Our lights shone so bright it lit the nigh time sky,

Some pilots got confused by it but soon learned to pass it by,

There were flowers in the garden and apple trees out the back,

My mothers house had everything nothing did we lack,

Life was always cosy we neither had a worry or a care,

We never had to look for things for they were always there,

No rodent ever came to live unless he had her permission,

Outside in the garden they would await for her decision,

But it was her house and she had the final say,

Everything was cool for her it was her house her rules her way,

She kept us all together all through the good times and the bad,

And mostly we were poor but we were grateful for what we had,

As kids we all would ask her where do you live dear mother,

Above would be the story the truth was something other,

24.07.2012

I thank that man.


We went to school together as most kids often do,

We have known each other for years and then we grew,

Through teenage years we drifted in and out,

We didn’t know what life was all about,

But we muddled through it because it was all we had,

In hard times and good ones of friends we were glad,

As in most childhood friendships we parted for years,

It was natural progression no fighting no tears,

For years we would meet and hardly if ever talk,

Yet we knew each other before we could walk,

We were never that close that anyone could tell,

But we tried to live wishing everyone well,

Both go getters what we wanted we strived to get,

In doing so though stressed we try not to fret,

Oh it used to be all the girls hung out by the green,

We lads down the road watching could be seen,

As far as friendships go it was neither great nor was it bad,

I chased some girl but she had her eye fixed firmly on one lad,

And as time went by and we played out our life,

Her future was sealed her lad would make her his wife,

Married they were and remain so to this day,

The only man for her and hers he will stay,

Years went by and with family now reared,

I turned to poetry and we met again it seemed weird,

We are friends again and get along really great,

Stories of family and kids and her lad, now her life mate,

It’s poetry I said and you have to be dead to be famous,

Who cares she replied but I still have my Seamus,

When called to the mike her poetry to recite,

My thanks go to Seamus with all of my might,

We share the same name (O’Donnell) him husband me friend,

She’s turned into a fun lunatic, to whom I often lend a hand,

But thank god we never got close it has to be said,

For if we had been married then one of us would surely be dead,

So thank you Seamus for keeping yer lives so intact,

There’s not many can keep up with you Sheila that’s a fact,

But don’t ever change what you do day to day,

Our world without you in it would be a darker place to stay,

When you call it’s always fun and truly it is real,

Even if I was stabbed by your car while fixing your wheel.

17 Jul. 12

almost left and the hospital visit

these are wrote after visiting hospitals for a long period in the last 2 months hope you like em .

Almost left


Oh I’m in the crowd amongst the group,

I’m in the know part of the loop,

I get to hear things that are going on,

I’m special I am the only one,

I’m in the audience sat on my seat,

I got here using both of my feet,

I gaze at the stage at the performing arts,

I’m in awe of the actors taking all those parts,

I’m stood right there at the side of the road,

Watching drivers haul their heavy load,

I’m in the window looking down on the street,

I see people shake hands as they greet,

I am walking along by day and by night,

I am unseen yet I do feel alright,

Come to think of it I feel nothing at all,

Even when I had that big fall,

I seemed to land firmly on the ground,

I was confused until something I found,

It was like a light coming on in my head,

I couldn’t figure out if I was alive or dead,

For no one saw me as I went to these places,

Not for me were those smiling faces,

Yet I felt I was there living in the crowd,

When I spoke no word nothing aloud,

Then I tried to recall where I lived and with whom,

And in what place I slept in whose house or room,

All I can see is a bright shining light,

People I know saying don’t give up please fight,

Then all of a sudden unmerciful pain,

I am in a bed this much is quite plain,

That light I saw is now shining in my face,

I recall now just what it is this place,

I was hit by a car as I crossed over the road,

The driver was careless over who he had rode,

There I was facing death on the brink,

Was it his mobile phone thoughtless unable to think,

Almost ending my life and sealing my fate,

If your driving then drive all other things can wait.

 
Hospital visit


On a visit to the hospital to see on old comrade in arms,

I thought to visit and listen as he voiced some of his charms,

His health was in bad shape but you just couldn’t tell,

If he was going to get worse or would he be well,

But I found him asleep as he lay in that hospital bed,

I woke him gently and he raised his weary head,

His operation went well and he retold it like a thriller,

Enthralled by his attitude towards the silent killer,

I am ready to face all things that come along my way,

And I’ll face my maker at anytime whether it is night or day,

I could just lay here and moan and be bitter,

But in all my time on earth I was never a sitter,

The missus and I sat and made out my last will,

And thanks be to god I remain alive still,

He goes on about his operation like it was a trivial thing,

Thanking, doctors and nurses and the cleaners for everything,

Though his humour and jokes were at first seen as a wall,

Put up by most just before they had a fall,

It soon became clear they were part of this man,

Who was dealing with his ailment like only he can?

As my time was near ending with my visit to this friend,

I got the impression nothing would shake him even his end,

For he has a firm belief in all things happen for a reason,

As he heads to old age and a brighter fuller season,

His missus he says runs everywhere and won’t be heard moan,

So why should he lay there and in pain groan,

If she can put up with me in my sorry state,

It’s a credit to her she’s been more then my best mate,

Bless you for your optimism may your future be bright,

I pray that god and yourself win the good fight,

Should I ever be unwell and things don’t look bright,

I’ll remember you sir and recall how to fight,

May the years ahead be joyous and happy as onwards you go?

You are inspiring to one and all that you know,

The difference between an optimist and a pessimist is plain,

When its life or death we alone choose the game,

And how we play it so that all can do it without a fuss,

You’re winning your fight and we are glad you are here with us.

30/06/12

hospital visit and almost left

mindless and the morning after

some more stuff from yours truly

these two are from last week in ther whitehouse bar limerick 1 fun the other social ha ha see if you can figure out which is which

Mindless (mark twain)


To all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most,

In everything I did my mind it had played host,

Now every waking moment I can’t tell if it’s night or day,

The empty space between my ears where my mind used to lay,

It had a place for memory where I could just recall,

Now I search for ages my shouts on deaf ears fall,

It used to tell me daily, which direction I was to set off,

But I go round in circles now and all about me scoff,

I once would point my finger at an object way off far,

Then I’d look towards heaven and gaze upon a shooting star,

Of all the things I miss the most I think I miss my mind,

Or at least I would if I could ask it I live in hope to find,

I could put a poster in the morning paper every day,

Asking my mind to please come back and reside with me stay,

But would that not imply that my mind had not yet left,

I would have to print that I am the victim of a theft,

Yet there’s nothing left behind in the space where it had been,

I’ve looked deep inside my head there’s nothing to be seen,

It’s gone with all good thoughts and resting somewhere new,

Should you see it wandering by please send me on a clue?

Through all the things I’ve done it’s my mind that’s paid the cost,

The good times and the bad are something that I’ve lost,

I sit down at the table waiting for my grub,

And soon I realize that I’m sitting in the pub,

Something seems familiar as I sit within this place,

I gaze into the mirror and see a weary face,

This is the face of someone who’s lost his mind,

Weary from the search for the one thing he cannot find,

Worried about the future and where he goes from here,

All seems so normal but it is not it soon appears,

To all the things I’ve lost I surely miss my mind the most,

The body I remain in to my life it has been host,

Though I appear quite healthy and I look really well,

Within this head is torment and a nightmare sent from hell,

If I should appear aimless as I wonder throughout the land,

I may have lost my mind but sure the rest of me is grand.

11 Jul. 12

 
The morning after.
 (idea from a marti pellow song)


Sick of waking every morning to see a different face,

Tired of looking back and seeing someone else’s place,

Closing silent doors behind me strangers not to wake,

The long walk home is lonely as morning starts to break,

All night long I loved you whoever you may be,

The cold light of the morning and silently I am free,

One night love is easy as the music and lights are flowing,

Sober in the morning and one of us is quietly going,

You lie in your bed and pretend to be asleep,

Or I will lay in mine as out the door we creep,

Passing glances in a hallway or club or discothèque,

Free love without commitment you never have to check,

Lovers all night long we whisper into each others ear,

In the cold light of the morning leaving without that fear,

When I said I loved you I meant it on that through the night,

It was all held in a moment both knowing each others plight,

Now I find that I need you and you refuse my calls,

Lonely hearts and one night stand’s strange glances in the halls,

Should we meet again and wonder have we been here before,

Lonely hearts and one night stands there could be much more,

I will not leave you in the morning I’ll lay until you wake,

And pray that we might save a broken heart from aches,

Sick of leaving every morning before the breaking of the day,

Tired and alone while softly in your bed you lay,

I will wake and make the coffee while you pretend to sleep,

Put my number on your table you will find it there to keep,

When I see you in a hallway all smile’s and having fun,

You will know we are together and I am the one,

Or maybe I will just forget you as I walk away,

So tired of trying to find that special one to stay,

Morning after the one night stand we had the night before,

Was all just fleeting moments there would never be much more,

Who knows it’s recriminations of things that could have been,

Fleeting memories of a love so briefly if ever seen,

Why do we tend to fall so easy yet find it hard to break away?

The morning after a one night stand a silent exit or do you stay.

28-Jun-12

just a little fun ha ha 4th july and the bitch left

no vodeo this time the poetry was packed making a nice change so ya just have to use eyes to read not ears to listen enjoy


The bitch left!


She’s out there you know running around,

God only knows what tramp she’s found,

And I’m chasing her to get her home,

She is not to be seen and I am all alone,

I’ll kill her, the filthy dirty ould tramp,

As it turns to dark and I fetch my lamp,

She was so good sat home on the chair,

And I looked lovingly as she sat right there,

But out she ran and away she went,

Leaving me alone to worry and rant,

If I find her I’ll kill her that’s the plan,

For no one would judge me no woman or man,

We even had a licence just herself and me,

And a happy twosome for the world to see,

We went everywhere as one little pair,

But soon as she could she was out of her chair,

What else can I do sit home and wait,

Perhaps I’ll hear the creaking of the gate,

And hope to god it’s her coming home,

So I no longer have to be on my own,

If I find her I’ll beat her that’s what I’ll do,

A slap in the arse with the heel of my shoe,

I will leave her for dead right on the floor,

That will teach her to run out the door,

There she is and look at that crowd,

I can hear her laughing her head out loud,

There are 3 of them chasing her now she needs help,

As we all meet together I grab her up with a yelp,

The thing you see is my bitch was in season,

And ran out the door so I lost all reason,

She’s home now and no she wasn’t beat,

But soon enough I think will be the patter of many feet,

05/07/2012


Confederate plot


It was on a Good Friday April 14th 1865,

Civil war was almost over it felt good to be alive,

A trip to ford’s theatre to watch our American cousin,

A stage full of actors the place was fairly buzzing,

Mary Todd was there sat beside her husband the president,

Happy as a couple as the attended this event,

At the intermission the bodyguard john parker left his post,

Headed to the nearby tavern for what he wanted most,

A drink with the footman and the coachman all stood at the bar,

Assignation plans put into place in the theatre not too far,

Up the stairs and down the corridor to the presidential box,

No bodyguard to stop him no need to pick the locks,

Having easily gained his entry to the outer room,

He wedged the outer door shut with the handle of a broom,

Through a hole in the inner wall he gazed upon his mark,

In the lane outside his horse tethered and was parked,

Creeping on his belly he slithered on the floor,

Put the gun to Abe’s head and the president would be no more,

Mary Todd left out a scream that her husband has been shot,

Henry Rathbone leaped to his feet to come to his chief’s aid,

But the assassin cut him deep as his escape he made,

Jumped from high his feet fell silent broke his leg upon the floor,

Panic fell within the hall as he hobbled out the door,

The man who held his horse got kicked right in his face,

Away into the night the assassin left that place,

The conspiracy now apparent the hunt for john Wilkes Booth,

While a country mourned a leader the army sought the truth,

He found a hideout in garrets farm close by Washington State,

Until he was surrounded union soldiers sealed his fate,

I will not be taken alive he said from his haven on the farm,

So they set the place on fire hoping to flush him from the barn,

A soldier named Boston Corbett had crept around the back,

As soon as Booth had made his move he shot him in the neck,

No more chasing no more hiding nowhere left to run,

John Wilkes Booth shot dead from the bullet of a union gun.

4-Jul-12

christy o'donnell poetry

christy o'donnell poetry

dish washer and a guilt trip

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: the dish washer and the guilt trip more fun in poe...

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: the dish washer and the guilt trip more fun in poe...: The Dish washer When supper was ready there was a race to the table, First to get there ate all they were able, And those who were sl...

the dish washer and the guilt trip more fun in poetry from years gone by ha ha

The Dish washer


When supper was ready there was a race to the table,

First to get there ate all they were able,

And those who were slow or hard of hearing,

Got there just as the mother was clearing,

Mugs and plates away to the sink,

There was nothing to eat but tea to drink,

And even that was cold and put in a jam jar,

If you had places to go it wouldn’t take you far,

There were no lazy kids in our house growing up,

We all raced to the table to get tea in a cup,

Usually there was no handle on its side,

Bloody thing was always too hot however we tried,

It burned and scalded our little tiny hands,

In summer it hurt but in winter it was grand,

Last to the table were destined to wash plates,

It was the youngest kid’s youth sealed their fates,

All the older ones were gone in a flash,

Bellies full out the door they’d dash,

Having ate all round them leaving little on the table,

We never gained weight in our house we weren’t able,

Now when supper is ready its ready on its own,

Parcelled into the oven or microwave alone,

There’s no call out the door to come in for yer tea,

No race to the table sat here only me,

There never seems to be a shortage of grub,

Less noise in the house you can eat in the pub,

But I still cook every day on the hob or in the oven,

No rushing or racing no pushing or shoving,

As I sit at my table I eat well but in a haze,

And long for the purpose and needy old days,

When if you were ever going to be late for your dinner,

You soon learned to be first in line making you a winner,

Our characters were built and we were always on guard,

It prepared us for life whose lessons were hard,

These days it’s easier for your kids and mine,

If they come to supper in my place they better be on time,

Because if by some chance they arrive here too late,

There will be none left to eat just a sink full of plates.

18 Jun. 12





The Guilt trip


Where are you off to she said as he heads for the door?

Back to the pub he replied to drink me some more,

Oh well now she screamed is this your intent,

You can drink in the pub but you have no cash for the rent,

Right you are then I’ll put your dinner neatly on your plate,

And I’ll place it on the oven top in case you are late,

There’s a recession on and there is no work to be had,

But go on to the pub and smile with the lads,

Sit in comfort and chat about how times sure are tough,

And when your done think of home when you’ve had enough,

As you stagger along thinking your mind is all clear,

Try to remember the clarity is clouded with beer,

Don’t start to sing me some of your sweet loving songs,

Or climb into bed and say you’d love to see me in a thong,

Like your dinner sat there on top of the oven,

Use it as it’s the only thing, into which you will be shoving,

Head off with you now will I open that door,

God help you sure you look like you could do with a few more,

For this is so hard a life in which you have spent,

To hell with it love you are more important then rent,

Tomorrow is a new day and though it may not be great,

We will help you out of your bed and deal with our fate,

In sharing this moment we should both be glad,

But you go ahead now spend time with the lads,

And should you awake and think you feel a bit rough,

Leave it to me sure I’ll tend to your stuff,

Such a hard life you have with the drinking more beer,

Before you head off now are you sure that your mind is clear,

I’ll sit home waiting for you rightly or wrong,

And when you hear last orders shouted I’ll take off this thong,

And burn it on the footpath beside our front gate,

And as you pass it take notice you will be forever too late,

Make your mind up as your dinner is still hot on the oven,

Is it the pub or staying home for some fun and warm loving?

It may have been a guilt trip as his jaw opened wide,

But to bed he was taken and her face filled with pride.



hope you enjoyed these i did lol