THERE WAS A TIME… my unfinished symphony is now finished

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stand1

A couple of days ago I invited contributions to complete this poem.  I guess is was an experiment really to see if several different poets could find the same emotions to make sense in a joint effort.  I am delighted to say that Michaelnjohns did just that, and he finished my poem  better than I could have done myself. Thanks michael

THERE WAS A TIME…

There was a time which was                                                                                                                                                        Much better lived than told                                                                                                                                                         There was a time we were much younger then                                                                                                                        And growing up held  more sway than growing old                                                                                                                  Then one day all that growing was done                                                                                                                                   And the long slide down that                                                                                                                                          Imaginary hill had begun…

I’ve slid, lost my hat, what’s worse, I’ve gotten fat,                                                                                                                     But if, at the end of it all, I could choose,
I’d say it’s been a good slide; I’d go again-
Through every bump and cut and bruise.
And I still reminisce now, of life back then

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

/ gorgeousgael / 2 Comments

39689eebcaf20579d32828e454990a4d

This poem has always hit the spot for me.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN  by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

unfinished symphony. THERE WAS A TIME…

/ gorgeousgael / 2 Comments

THERE WAS A TIME…

There was a time which was

Much better lived than told

There was a time we were much younger

And growing up held  more sway than growing old

And then one day all that growing was done

And the long slide down that

Imaginary hill had begun…

I have,as you can see, not yet finished this poem. Anybody who feels like contributing some lines to finish it please feel free!

PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE TV

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FOR_ST~1

PUT ANOTHER LOG ON THE TV

Talking gets harder each day:

Smokeless zones and telephones

Have killed the conversation

Now our lies, laughs, truth and tears

Have all been swallowed whole

By another monster

In another shiny console

Rocking-horse to rocking-chair

And somewhere in between

The fireplace has become a flickering screen

Glowering at the world

Insisting on silence as it reward

Granddad spat in the fire;

I spit in your face;

Old lies die hard.

THE CAFETIERS

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THE CAFETIERS

Oh yes, the cafetiers;

They sit here day after day

Sipping their lives away

Out in the open air

In historic Hastings town square

Good sides to the sun

Contemplating another sticky bun

Watching the girls parade past

Leaning like mannequins at half-mast

SOME DUBLIN CHARACTERS

/ gorgeousgael / 3 Comments

SOME DUBLIN CHARACTERS

Not necessarily born in Dublin but lived a significant part of their lives in the city.

THE BIRD FLANAGAN

BRENDAN BEHAN

PATRICK KAVANAGH

JIMMY O’DEA

MYLES NA gCOPALEEN

SEAN O’SULLIVAN

ENDYMION

JONATHAN SWIFT

DENIS GUINEY

SEAN O’CASEY

W B YEATS

JACK B YEATS

ALFIE BYRNE

THE TOUCHER BYRNE

MARGARET BURKE SHERIDAN

JACK DOYLE

JOE MCGRATH

etc  etc  

TICK TOCK…TICK TOCK

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PRISONER

The ticking clock is silent

Articulating emptiness

Mainspring not busted

Just not required.

Time gulling it over the horizon

Speckled in the distance

The residue left behind

Not worth a light

Over some visionary hill

Virtual reality is real enough

More and more scream the worms

Turning every which way but one

More length, more depth

More leisure, more pleasure

More love, more life

Bur mostly more coin

Nothing prepares us for this

The hand that held the answers

Trembling now before new idols

Knowledge bootless as experience

New waves have old beginnings

But tired dogs own no snap

It’s the rut we’re stuck in, see?

Slow going forward but no going back

Sitting by time’s window

Waiting for the daily rebuff

To come winging by

Sifting little crumbs of comfort

From the embers

Screaming all the way……

 

THE STARGAZER

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FLASH FICTION

My stars had  predicted it. ‘Go for maximum growth and opportunity, late in the afternoon’, said the Sun’s Stargazer. Well, it was late afternoon and here I was in firm’s stationary cupboard. The maximum growth had already taken place, and the opportunity was about to present itself. Just as soon as Jackie managed to free the stubborn zip on her skirt!

WITNESS

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wave_tourist

WITNESS

If I bear witness of myself

That witness is not true83

There is another who bears witness

And that witness is you.

You are a burning and shining light

My only reason to rejoice

You gave me hope where there was none

You brought sanity to my voice.

If now you should wish to leave me

Where is there another who will believe me?

When I shout out to the heavens up above

That what saved me then, and will do so again

Is nothing other than unconditional love.

THE WAY WE WERE

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THE WAY WE WERE

The picture house is full of it tonight;

‘A TEAR JERKER…THE WAY WE WERE.

See that old woman?

She has three carrier bags of it

To comfort her in her doorway.

Belfast Johnny has two bottles

Of it in his greatcoat pocket

And eight shiny photos of it

Bridging the gaps in his shoes.

The preacher ladles out doses of it

With hot soup. Georgie Best,

Rock-n-Roll, wedding vows,

They are all part of it.

The past follows you around:

Like a faithful old dog

It never leaves your side.