Her room.

The

heavy beat

of the

clock -

the missing

plume of

cigarette smoke

gentle rising –

no fire in her

grate.

An

empty chair

sits soaked

with her

form

its

threadbare arm

from a

million

gentle strokes.

Dust burdened

bookshelves

stand

ridiculously redundant.

Her radio

silent

whilst cheap-

priceless trinkets

parade from

some other age.

She had chuckled

“I eat no more then

a Bird now

Son…….

no more then

a bird”.

No welcoming

kettle rattling

on

cooker tops

no

imperceptible

twitching

of nicotine

net

curtains.

Outside the

still

sky stands

waiting-

waiting

whilst

homing pigeons

circle-

and never

land.

Fairy Steps.

She put a wall around her

garden

to keep the strangers

out.

Wore a shawl around her

shoulders

to keep her warm

inside.

Always wore a smile

yet deep inside she

cried.

She shuffled little

fairy steps-

was careful not to

stride.

She cuddled with herself

at night

and kept her hurt

alive.

A miracle.

You sit a salt and pepper

pot away - the late summer

sun lighting up your face a half smile

teasing across your lips but

this is not a miracle.

There’s something in the

way you hold your glass

offering it in slow light steps

toying, playing, yet

this is not a miracle.

You subconsciously wipe the

wrinkles from your summer

skirt and cross your suntanned

legs, lift your face to the fading

day and I know

this is not a miracle.

Night slowly chases away the

day and we climb in bed together

and I search inside your eyes

once more as we dance our dance

and I know this is a

miracle.

How tall the Trees.

How tall the

Trees

forgiving of all

fate’s

seasons

How tall

the

Trees.

How quiet the

Stream

meandering,

cutting

shaping,

the landscape,

how quiet that

Stream.

How empty the

Sky

today,

unthreatening

yet, always

tomorrow’s canvas

those blue

empty

Skies.

And Time’s

shadow- heavy

laden

on the wall

waiting-

waiting

Time’s aching

shadow.

And how incredible

the cry of the

newborn

baby

how wondrous

innocent-

beautiful

that cry.

And Tomorrow-

Another day

flowing into

us,

across us,

beyond us,

upon us-

just

Another

day.

Summer rain.

Summer rain

breaking the heat

lightly caressing your

skin

the soft lush grass

pushing between

toes

as the

image of you

lifts

me -

lifts me.

Honey hair

a summer

smile a

brassiere strap

falling onto a

shoulder with a

promise

the shimmering of your

pleated skirt

inviting

inviting.

something in the way

you move…..

capturing me -

capturing

me.

White steps

I never actually saw my mother with

a cock in her mouth, but I could have done –

Arms in Belfast sinks full of pots - hour

after hour - clothes boiling on the

gas hob – the smell enough to tarnish poverty

itself.

I never actually saw her like

that - but remember her fingers burning

on that cast smoothing iron the spit zipping off.

Ladling plate after plate of porridge

to hungry mouths – sat around an open

fire – like birds in a nest - vests stretched over

scabby knees broken fruit boxes burning

too swiftly and gone – ashes.

I never ever saw her like that - yet

life dealt her and her kind an evil hand -

drunken men in every house whilst Bairn’s went

hungry - wives painted white steps in their

back-to-backs while the secrets stayed behind

closed doors and minds were ruined - twisted for-

ever.

I never saw my mam with a cock in

her mouth – not with my eyes anyway.

Just the rats scurrying in rain filled

gutters feeding on the rancid vomit

of man.

True Soldiers

Pull the string – flick the switch

True Soldiers never did this

No Virgins - just your head over

There

a look of startled surprise

Killing women – little kids

True Soldiers never did this.

Warriors – crusaders – martyrs

Pick your tag - put you in

A body bag

Then clear up your murderous mess

True soldiers never did this.

Pick a cause – any cause

Like cards out a pack

Listen to the clever one’s rant

Poison your mind while you

Suck them off

Then walk slowly to your wasted death

True Soldiers never did this.

And the tomorrow of another

Fool - certain of everlasting life

Is waiting in your steps

To once again slaughter as many

As he can

True Soldiers never did this.