new poems

My cling on


Growing up on the north side of limerick was great,

And for most things we had to do we were usually a bit late,

But we soon discovered that the busses ran right by our street,

The bus company had routes we saw all of their fleet,

But we never could afford a lift every day,

There was just no money and we simply couldn’t pay,

So when we needed a lift to get home for our chores,

We used to cling on to the handle of the doors,

And hold on for dear life as the bus made its way round,

And let go only when we were on familiar ground,

Now the brother and myself never saw eye to eye,

And when we got together sparks would always fly,

He was older then me but I was learning real fast,

His bullying tactics were fading and wouldn’t last,

It happened one day as I ran to the bus to cling on the back,

He leaned on my handle and gave me an unmerciful crack,

I tumbled from my spot and went rolling on the street,

Crying and hurt I had scraped both of my elbows and feet,

It hurt for days and I found it so hard to walk,

When my father asked what happened I wouldn’t talk,

Some weeks later I had recovered from my spill,

But of the older brother boy I’d had my fill,

I waited for days as he ran for his clinger on the bus,

Pretending that my fall wasn’t a bother or fuss,

Then I saw my chance to get even with my dear brother,

I gave him the elbow as hard as he gave me the other,

Flying he went into the middle of the road,

Under an oncoming truck that had emptied its load,

The driver hit the brakes to avoid this child rolling like a ball

No matter what he did under the front wheel he did fall,

Now with his leg firmly broken in the hospital he laid,

He told all and sundry of me he was afraid,

That I did it on purpose pushed him under the truck,

And that I was a danger to all I ought to be locked up,

But he learned a valuable lesson on that very day,

For the rest of his life if he crossed me he’d pay,

After all just because he was 5 whole years older,

Didn’t mean at 9 years of age I couldn’t be bolder,

It did mean however that if a bully he should meet,

He would call his young brother and the bully got beat.

2 February 2012


Sandwiches


I could never recall why I was always sent to my room,

Usually it was with good reason as I was often out of tune,

I was always up to mischief of one kind or another,

A constant source of torment to my poor old mother,

In any case, locked into my bedroom and grounded for a week,

While there I would constantly give her plenty of cheek,

The father decided that I would sleep when he went to bed,

And the only time I would eat was when he was fed,

And so I arose each morning when he got up for work,

Had breakfast and was given chores that I dare shirk,

And put back in my cage for the rest of the day,

Locked in there with nothing to eat drink or play,

As the father would say you will learn your lesson,

And stop all this mischief and mayhem and messing,

He warned all the family I was to be avoided, a must,

And dare one of them go against him, break his trust,

So with nothing to eat locked in my room with a view,

Sure I threw things at the neighbours I had naff all to do,

One of the sisters had made toasted sandwiches that smelled fine

And grabbed a fishing pole and tied them to the end of the line,

But both windows opened in the same right handed direction,

And she had trouble trying with me to make a connection,

And the father would be due home as it was getting a bit late,

If he saw her trying to feed me then both of us would be bate,

Sure enough there he was watching from the side of the road,

And she dropped the bounty and both our hearts slowed,

He stormed into the house and his temper had flared,

As she took flight I barred the door pretty scared,

He caught her and made her sit on one of the kitchen chairs,

And called me to join them from the room upstairs,

What will I do with ye for this act of transgression,

As we both spoke in gibberish relaying our confession,

His big army belt lay on the table that day,

Get out he said with yer fishing for sandwiches go play,

And stay out of trouble and mind out on the road,

Remember always test your line before you try to land your load.

06/02/12