You that have power
Listen to the world
Sing me your song
Of why I should fear
Your weapons of war
Tell me your tale
Of peaceful death
You killed all our sons
You poisoned our souls
With your weapon of war
Sell me your
fairy tale of old
Cut me a dream
A slice of your soul
Serve it with a scream
For us your foolish pawns
Francie McGivney
Before the pen
They strayed
Bombarding my mind
Feeding an anger inside
Looking for sentences
To make them complete
The words found my ear
Whispering their truth
They line up refusing to
Be quenched in the rage
That flamed my pain
(C)francie Mcgivney 04:02/
#poetry #poems
The government doesn’t realise it’s shagged.
The wettest country beside a huge ocean is going to install water meter to charge for the very thing that floods us every year.
We love to complain about the weather.
The guards ( that’s our police ) are bearing lumps out of peaceful protestors. They had to get a loan of the riot gear because Irish people are usually asleep during the whole riot thing
Cows still produce enough Methane gas Ireland to feed all the bullshit in the dail (that’s our parliament. )
Irish girls are still pure gorgeous
Black pudding is one of our national foods.
An Irish man is the president of America once more
Leprechauns are real just like the fairies aka the little people.
Black humour is our passion. Nothing like the craic (that’s fun) at a funeral .
The poitin in the shops is fake But don’t drink the real stuff unless you want to go blind
There you would be of a day and you listening to someone talking pure shite about something and the words inside you are bursting to get out but you’re controlling your mouth, thinking for once just let it pass don’t say anything , it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Then all of a sudden you are in the middle of going on like a raving lunatic again about something political and your shagged if you can remember starting to talk and you are hoping that you will shut up fairly soon because you are getting the crazy looks of people again.
but the good thing is the pressure is released inside of your skull and the headache is gone and finally you quieten down and then an air of silence descends upon you and you wonder for a minute was I just talking a minute ago and you know by the shocked looks that you probably were. But sure what can you do that’s just the way the leaves fall from your branches
I wanted a woman someone different . Someone whose beauty was marked with lines on her face. I saw you and knew those blues eyes and that smile were more beautiful than anything I had ever wished or dreamed of
Never give all the heart for
Love fades with a lost kiss until
Nothing remains but the
The cave of empty lies
Where once your heart lay.
Never give all the mind
For their words drown in
Shrinking lines of passion
Taking your body’s gift and
Leaving you lost with regret
(C) frank McGivney
Just from top of head so hope makes sense because I in bed about to nod off and too tired to edit
Riddle me this and riddle me that. Tell me how to write the clever story to wreck you mind. A plot I read about , a fear I wouldn’t have the mind cells to tease and fool.
A riddle I started that I can’t yet answer. I’ll know the clues once the answer is solved. A tale of a man and a woman a note and a desire. One for love the other for murder. The secret of writing been revealed by another degree as my search for the clues leads me through the ink on my notebook paper.
“Well Feck you and the rest of them”
“Now Paddy cool down boy, Remember what happened the last time”
“What are you on about, you gobshite”
“There you go again just like the last time”
“I cant remember a last time”
“You see that’s what I’m talking about”
“Jaysus your a fucking pain in the arse”
“Ah there it is, the head is gone again”
“I am perfectly calm”
“No your not”
“Listen to me you scuttering little shite I am perfectly calm, there’s not a bother on me”
“Remember the river and the tinkers from last summer”
“That was a pure accident”
“Some of them are still recovering after it”
“They were up for it so they were and it was nothing to do with me”
“The hurley had your name carved on it”
“That could have been any Paddy McCabe”
“That John Jo Ward has still a terrible case of the shakes after what you and that Sheila Reilly one did to him”
“Ah now leave Sheila out of it, She’s as pure as a sheep on a mountain”
“There’s a lot of rams roaming the mountains”
“There is to be sure”
To be continued
A poem has been eating at me for months. Pressing against my brain to be written. The first line repeating in my mind until I started to think it was a line of a song I had heard somewhere . Last night after a writing session I had the line in my head but not the energy in my body to try what I hadn’t been brave enough to attempt with the line and write it down. But then 5 in the morning arrives with a call of nature and an impulse to grab the pen. The other impulse forgotten . The 16 lines flowed easy enough, their imprisonment making their desire to escape onto the page all the greater. I read it just there and while it obviously need works it sounded pretty damn good to me. That hour at 5 between sleeps producing what hours of procrastination had failed to achieve.
Week two and the learning continues. I am glad I have actually done a year of writing before this so that the stuff I am learning now makes sense and I can put it in a context. Interesting meeting old friends and new and talking to people who write. Its the most refreshing thing in the world to talk to someone who sees the world the way I do.
How do I see the world? I hope I see it as an adventure where everything is a story. Everything from the group dynamics of the class today, who sat where, why they sat where they sat? The interaction between people. The stories people tell you or that you hear and the way they are potential stories or parts of stories or characters in a story. The whole world as a technicolour of potential and wonder. The Walter Mitty syndrome that I aspire to harnessing.
Anyway so all through the class while learning about story structures and character analysis I was getting more and more excited about writing using the proper formulas and how I can mould and adjust it to the way I want my stories to be told.
Nice auld cup of coffee in the canteen as well but even better was coming home changing into the pjs, cutting two big slabs of home made brown bread and getting a heap of ham and a big glass of water, then motoring up the laptop and getting down to the one thing that has filled the void inside of me, writing.
Thanks to everyone who has liked my blog so far I am buzzing out of writing it and reading all the amazing stuff on other peoples blogs
