Music rides over,
Air in this room,
It speaks to say,
It’ll be over soon.
A temporary feeling,
Sad, hollow days,
Will go quite soon,
Begin a new phase.
You’ll find a place,
Glue all the pieces,
Smile once again,
Rich as creases.
Soon home will be,
Beside him where,
I know I belong,
Just lying there.
Warm with love,
Bathed in light,
Glowing with heat,
In the dark of night.
Until that day,
I’ll rest in wait,
Time and destiny,
Space and fate.
Gaping walnut shells
gleaned from harrowed earth.
Rounded flint stones rolled by rain and wind.
A partial shell ear
encrusted spirals
and the tracery of a wintered maple leaf.
A rusted bobbin
a kitten’s lost toy,
a tiny green origami bird,
weathered glass fragments
a single earring
and a pair of blue plastic action man bootees.
Along with a jay’s
shimmering cobalt
feather, these random oddments
my found storybook
compartmented. Some
found at the edge of fields or freshly dug black soil
where marbles glint low,
as fingers scrub off
long years of weed-blocked obscurity,
and brittle oyster
shells reveal a past;
this fertile blackness once the host of ancient seas.
Tacitly
the water retreated,
slipping through
the scars of the Earth
unapologetically,
scorning and scorching
ingratitude
with arid winds.
The horizon curled
and rippled,
teasing our search
for clouds; I flicked
a bead of blood
from my lips,
fissured
and riven, like
the salt flats,
which glimmered,
alluringly, with
deadly, mineral snow.
It’s that time when you may find me grim.
When absent leaves will render branches bare
and sodden pigeons seek forlorn retreat.
Only a lonely troubadour thrush sings.
You see me hunched against the morning chill
as condensation dribbles down, I make
a sideways swipe to foil the downward run
as gentle room heat slowly ghosts all trace.
You stand behind me though I do not hear,
your whispers stray as memory wanders past.
You know I seek to find the long lost thread,
touch me once more that I may feel your warmth,
then, as my towelled hand wipes the glass, I think
I catch a glimpse, so faint – you leave again.
‘My page has been empty for months. Forgive me for filling it.’
Nessa O’Mahony’s ‘My Father’s Daughter’ explores the nature of the imperishable and pronounced bonds between fathers and daughters. We embark upon a poetical journey, combining the autobiographical with the historical through two father-daughter relationships spanning two different periods of Irish history.
Nessa’s poetry is a raw and at times a painfully honest depiction of her family life, especially those memories surrounding her father and grandfather. The finished article is a commentary on love and loss including the reconstructive and subjective power of memory.
From ‘His Master’s Voice’ that looks at life through the eyes of the family pet to the powerful ‘Portrait of the Artist’s Father’ which is a personal invite to observing a dying man, Nessa holds little back in creating her images and exhuming her past.
The poem I identified most with was ‘Those Of Us Left’ which comments on the turbulent aftermath proceeding the death of a loved one. It resonates as it accurately portrays the confusion and stark anger which is very typical of grief but not as often spoken about. The gritty realism in the words leave you uncomfortable but enlightened.
The collection is split into five sections, each focusing on a different area. There is a whole part which utilises nature, weaving rich imagery and juxtaposition to refresh how we perceive sentient beings. There’s a particular reference used to different birds of prey which compares relationships with nature, providing interesting contrasts.
Nessa explores the idea of her own immortality in ‘Walking Stick’ when she details adopting the walking aid that was previously her father’s.The cyclical process of life is a running theme, particularly the role reversal of child to an adult in a parent’s latter stages of life. This is a experience many people have with their elderly parents which Nessa captures beautifully.
‘Her Father’s Daughter’ explores illness in ‘Waiting Room’ and the failing of mind and body while exploring the impact on relationships. It is a body of work that can transcend the ages and has something within that would resonate with many.
Overall the collection is a heartfelt, vivid and moving tribute.
http://nessaomahony.com/?cat=4
On the first day of Christmas I was beside myself with glee:
I’d bagged a date with a guy who was as handsome as can be.
He seemed intelligent and fun and adventurous and kind!
A combination of things near impossible to find.
We wandered round the Christmas markets, supped on hot mulled wine,
Chatted and laughed – a lot (which seemed a real good sign)
And sweetest of all he bought a little festive gift for me –
An ornate wooden decoration to hang on my Christmas tree.
On the second day of Christmas, a text message asking if I might
Join him for a “winter walk before this day turns into night”.
“How poetic!” I thought as my cheeks began to blush
Like two holly berries at the thought of this winter crush.
When we met to go ice-skating, he produced a parcel from his pocket;
Too small to be a scarf yet too big to be a locket.
It was wrapped with bows and ribbons, on the paper snowy doves
And nestled there inside were some fluffy knitted woollen gloves.
Now, on the third day of Christmas, a request flashed upon my screen:
He wanted to be friends on Facebook – which seemed a little keen.
Both nights had been quite nice and he’d seemed to be quite fun
But to commit to such a gesture felt like he was jumping the gun!
But I dismissed the thought as nonsense and accepted with a click
Then quick as a flash I thought my eyes were playing a little trick…
“A gift for you” he wrote, upon my wall like a confession
Three heart emojis in a row, all beating in succession.
On the fourth day of Christmas, it started out quite quiet…
Before my phone exploded into a notification riot!
He’d followed me on Twitter, liked my pics on Instagram,
Added Snapchat and my Pinterest like some unwanted boyfriend spam!
He’d asked to meet again but I’d got plans to see a friend
But it seemed that to his giving there was no sign of end!
“I was scrolling through your wall” he said “saw you check in on the app,
Sent these four bouquets of flowers straight to you, you handsome chap.”
On the fifth day of Christmas, whilst hopping on the tram
I thought I’d walked into a festive candid camera scam!
There he stood, a grin so wide with placards in his hand;
He was recreating Love Actually – he’d even hidden a five-piece band!
What seemed cutesy in the film, in reality was quite scary –
He had a look running through his eyes – all glossy, fixed and glary.
Then he turned each card in time so I could see what each one said
“You are my one true love, I’m sure! I can’t get you out my head!”
Then the brass band loudly struck up, each player popping out in turn
And the whole situation was starting to really fill me with concern.
Commuters on their way to work, let out cheers and starting clapping,
Whilst one lady yelped as it woke her from her early napping!
That made a man jump and send his morning Metro flying
Then a little baby girl screamed and started crying!
I mean I was speechless, I didn’t know what to say!
Tried to find a way to escape, maybe pretend I wasn’t actually gay?
“You are my one true love” he called “I’ll prove to you it’s true-
With more gifts every day – each especially for you!”
“But” I said in panic “I don’t really see the need…!”
As he dashed right off the tram at lightening reindeer speed.
What started out as cute was now a little overbearing.
It seemed being charmed with gifts was his way to show that he was caring.
So on the sixth day of Christmas, my inbox overflowed!
Six emails sat unread from him, each one of them brightly glowed
With SEASON’S GREETINGS at the top
And all containing vouchers for a coffee shop!
From Starbucks buy a latte and from Costa buy a brew
Then go to Nero, Pumpkin and a trendy place in the NQ.
Next stop: Krispy Kreme for a doughnut combination –
“All this caffeine” I thought, “will give me a Christmas palpitation!”
On the seventh day of Christmas, still determined at his quest,
Seven DVDs were sent each with labels claiming they were the best.
Minions 1 and Minions 2 and Insidious Chapter 3.
Jurassic World and Trainwreck, the complete box set of Glee!
And last to finish off the pile, much to my dismay
Was the super deluxe extended interactive edition of Fifty Shades of Grey!
Now the most ridiculous part of this entire festive con,
I didn’t even have a DVD player to watch any of them on!
On the eight day of Christmas, it started getting very weird –
He’d turned up at my work, dressed complete with Santa beard.
A red fluffy suit and a sack upon his back
With eight electrical goods all nestled in his pack!
A plethora of consoles to play all the latest games upon –
Plus a coffee machine for when all the vouchers were spent and done.
A Blue Ray player and an X Box, Playstations 3 and 4,
An 82-inch plasma and two Wii Fiits left no space upon the floor.
On the ninth day of Christmas, there was no sign that it would stop
As nine new phones came plopping right through my letter box –
A Sony and a HTC, A Samsung Galaxy in its latest make,
Even a Nokia 3310 where I could spend hours playing Snake!
Not forgetting all the iPhones; 4, 5 and 6 plus too.
A Blackberry in ‘Robot Grey’, A Motorola in ‘Smoky Blue’.
A note from him was last to land, one thing he had to stress:
“Charge each one and keep them close so I can always track you down by GPS!”
On the tenth day of Christmas, I was scared of what lay in store
When a delivery from Currys came knocking at my door.
A laptop with a touchscreen, another just with keys,
A third with a detachable screen designed for transportation ease.
And iPads in their multitudes – all light for on the go
But incase I wasn’t satisfied, a ginormous iPad Pro.
A Kindle and a Paperwhite, not forgetting Kindle Fire
And each in turn complete with an extendable charger wire!
On the eleventh day of Christmas, when the postman came to call
I’d nailed up the letterbox, barricaded the entrance hall!
When out in the street came the honking of a horn,
A din breaking through the mist on this early winter morn.
11 cars all lined up, each garnished with a bow!
An Audi, Ford and Fiat had all arrived in tow.
Then a Jeep, a Porsche, a Bentley, a new Picasso Citroen,
Mini, Nissan, Skoda and a BMW brightly shone!
He was sat atop the last, like Santa on his sleigh –
“Each of these” he called “show how much my love does weigh!”
“But, this is getting mad!” I said “I haven’t even passed my test!”
“Then” he chuckled “HO HO HO! I’ll buy you more lessons ‘til you’re the best!”
On the twelth day of Christmas, feeling somewhat flabbergasted,
Surrounded by his tonne of gifts; nearly two weeks this had lasted!
I was feeling scared to leave my flat, who knew what lay ahead…
When out he popped, shouted “Surprise!”, from underneath my bed!
I yelped, I screamed, I leapt with fright whilst running for the door
“I hope” he said “you like your gifts – as I come bearing just 12 more!”
Tickets for a worldwide trip – to take in all the sights
The Barrier Reef, The Taj Mahal, the Rockefeller Christmas lights!
China, Italy, Sweden would be next along the way
Then Chile, Poland and Kenya for the entire month of May!
Australia and Mexico and last stop the North Pole
“By plane and boat and limousine” he sung “that’s how we will roll!
All these gifts and so much more are what I give to you
To prove that you’re my one dear love, it’s undeniably true!”
“The gesture is very nice,” I said, “but I don’t understand the need
To show someone you care with a mountain of such greed!
I don’t need these things to understand a gesture of goodwill
And my brain hurts to even imagine your next credit card bill!”
Christmas is for giving, yes, but does that really mean
We need more than one computer and a tonne of fresh caffeine?
It’s easy to spend a wad of cash as a flash way to impress
But there are lots of other ways to do this that will cost you a lot less.
Receiving lots is lovely but there is another way –
The little things are the best to receive on Christmas Day.
He sighed and nodded – “It has cost an awful lot of dough…
And I had 14 animals all lined up for the day after tomorrow
But it must seem a bit too much – all the gifts I started to bring”
(Luckily he’d kept all the receipts so he could return almost everything.)
“How about we start again and go for a nice long walk?
We’ll take in all the sights we see – and even better we’ll actually talk…”
And with that recognition, a snowflake gently drifted down
As we began to think of other ways to spread festive cheer all round.
In each house and street and town, the frost created a shimmer
And being truly connected to each other is the way to make Christmas glimmer.
On that day, was it pelting down with rain like it always did in Bedwelty?
Or was the September sun filtering into the room? Perhaps the radio was on with Jim Reeves
singing one of mum’s favourite songs. Could you hear voices coming from the kitchen
as Nanna kept busy,
flapping the welsh cakes on the griddle ?
I imagine your gaze falling upon my small form, my mother scooping me up, holding me tight.
Did you notice the creases of anguish in her face as she let you have one more sip of whisky?
Did you give me one last kiss when she carried me away? Did you know it was the last day?
Resting now, on top of the hill, overlooking the valley.
I’ve tried to find you, but the grass has grown too high.
There is a river
running between us,
wide and deep.
It is dark when I look into it,
like your face.
I long to jump in,
swim across
to where you are
stand dripping before you,
but the current is strong
the rocks jagged,
I want to look into your eyes,
trace the light in them
but my feet are stuck in mud
Here on the riverbank
my legs won’t move.
My words are stones
sinking to the bottom of the river
Picture: http://learning.southdowns.gov.uk
Poetry Drawer: The Last Day by Raine Geoghegan (for my father James Charles Hill)
The scenes were set all the way down the street
With ghouls and zombies dragging their feet
Children knocking on each neighbour’s door
Not content with one sweet, they asked for one more
The sweet baked smell of fresh pumpkin pie
Make up like blood falling from their eyes
Skeletons, ghosts, a dark princess
All make for a ghoulish night of success
Night terrors, shaking, crying and screams
The ghosts follow children into their dreams
It’s all been a fantasy here in my head
There isn’t a ghost at the end of my bed
What’s that tapping at my bedroom door?
I hear footsteps on the floor
A witches cackle, she’s casting a spell
Please wake me up to end this hell
Pics courtesy of:
www.familyholiday.net
designbolts.com
The scenes were set all the way down the street
With ghouls and zombies dragging their feet
Children knocking on each neighbour’s door
Not content with one sweet, they asked for one more
The sweet baked smell of fresh pumpkin pie
Make up like blood falling from their eyes
Skeletons, ghosts, a dark princess
All make for a ghoulish night of success
Night terrors, shaking, crying and screams
The ghosts follow children into their dreams
It’s all been a fantasy here in my head
There isn’t a ghost at the end of my bed
What’s that tapping at my bedroom door?
I hear footsteps on the floor
A witches cackle, she’s casting a spell
Please wake me up to end this hell
Pics courtesy of:
www.familyholiday.net
designbolts.com