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Uploaded July 2015 (3 poems) Click for Readings
Lines from 'The Circle'
This was the first of three poems I wrote in 1971.
(The second was 'The Valley' )
(The second was 'The Valley' )
Now life settles to a round,
With new sense of purpose found, Till ambition's luring call Draws, like water to a fall From a pool in rocky deep, Dreamer lately waked from sleep. So the water through a gorge Past steep rocks its way will forge, With the beckoning distant moan Cataract of thunder grown. And the water boiling on, Carves its way and then is gone Towards the torrent crashing down, Kaleidoscope of sight and sound*. Then the river onwards flows Ever slackening as it goes, Till in stagnant pool as lain Turns to wonder what is gain. |
Then comes peace, like solitude
Full of meaning, when one would Smooth each memory free from care. Little self! 'Tis so when prayer Brings an unknown deep content, Or when arm to comfort bent Brings a healing and a balm. And the tumult willed to calm Is as river spread to sea, And a strange eternity. Now comes death; be quiet, brave; Now the darkness of the grave; Now the dust upon the ground. See the circle, full and round; First and last together meet And the circle is complete. |
* Perhaps presaging the mental illness I soon afterwards was to experience.
On the death of Angela Gallagher
This was the last of three poems I wrote in 1971, close to the onset of my mental illness.
It was addressed to the child's father, after I had watched her funeral on TV.
It was addressed to the child's father, after I had watched her funeral on TV.
Uninvited Wit
My father told this story when interviewed by the Belfast Telegraph (circa 1975)
An undertaker's pride in his fleet
Is like a woman's pride in her hair But what's a perm or a hearse Until an admirer is there? For convenience I'll call him Ted For what after all is a name And the splendid hearse he'd acquired Would still have cost the same. Like parents welcoming neighbours To wet the new baby's head Invites were printed and posted To view the purchase he'd made. Most of the folk who received them Were Protestants broadly defined For in death as well as in life They mainly consort with their kind. When the drink was flowing freely And the hearse was gleaming in pride |
Ted swelled his chest in satisfaction
Till an unwelcome guest he espied. The desultory character he confronted Whom most people chose to disown Had a name he pronounced with displeasure Though adopted to rhyme with his own. "Fred, I've no care to insult you Though many I know who do But this is a hearse for Orangemen And not for the likes of you". Fred's lifestyle had oft been derided But his wit was to earn him renown For quick as a flash came the answer "May it carry every Orangeman in town!" With pride that was sadly deflated Thinking what the brethren might say Ted knew the first it would carry If he could but have his way. |