Category Archives: poetry

Begin

With yellow roses

Scented on the touch

Of skin fragrent

In morning dew

With translucent glimpses

Of passing ghosts

Behind fluttering curtains

With words lined in order

Of radiant sentences

Constructs of telling paragraphs

In silver lined tales of imagination

With a smile

Radiant through time

Illuminating dusty trails

Where dreams sleep

Between adventure strolls

Frankie writing words 1st Jan 2022

Old ground

Beneath the soil a beauty lies

Born of neglect sown by a love

For nature’s touch upon the soul

Of fauna’s mingling hug of flora

Where nettles wind their stinging leafs

In neighbourhoods with dandelion wisps

Drifting in golden skies and windy

Cites shadowing friendly towns

On the road to blessed villages

Where the pollen feeds the honeybees

Desire to create the earths pure taste

And the webs of spiders draw painted

Designs for flies to rest unsuspecting

For life to pass and the circle to replenish

In the glow of the suns breakfast gift

To evaporate the sweet dew upon the

Green blades where caterpillars chew

The wild garden holds the silence

I crave to enjoy reflecting the internal

Peace awarded to me by my return to

The inherent quietness of a silent youth

(C) frank mcgivney

Dancing

I stroll down slow

On account of knees

I need of a mechanic

Of a medical inclination

The darkness of the night

Is cracked gently by the red

Of the sun waving farewell

To a moon heading for the

Land of kangaroo fields

The tunes in my mind

Pitter patter with a smile

I cast to the side

My frog eyed slippers

And with a breath deep

In my soul

I

Dance

In

The

Kitchen

On

My

Own

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Michael d

Imagine if you can

The pride

When you realise

The truth of no doubt

Of having a president

Of real value

A man born with courage

Of mind and soul

To quote Aristotle

In the same breath as

Holding the rapture

Of joy of laughter

Of a nation small

In geographical size

But huge in soul

Michael d Higgins

The man who

Became president

Of Ireland

Whose light shines

In comparison

To the darkness

On the other side

Of the Atlantic

(C) frank mcgivney

Silence

I look inside myself

And see my heart is lost

I look inside her words

And know the light to shine

I listen to the sounds

Of history skip repeat

I feel the words of mine before

with laughter save her breath

I hear my silence now

Save the love her heart desires

I look inside my self

To feel the calm swim clear

Frankie with the thoughts inside which make a man different from the crowd who succumb to their own needs. I was raised to do what’s right but more importantly what i am is my actions or reactions to protect the essence of what I believe is right to protect the others . The action to save is of no use if the reactions then result in the end of one or the other or both. Silence is not loved in a world where the need to find closure through words is paramount when the true light is waiting to illuminate in the glorious beauty of the colourful spectrum of the silent world inside where happiness is found in the peace of imagination

Small things

Butterfly on my hand

Where will you go

Will you stay a while

So I can recall the red

Mix with the blue

Summer sky of rain

Where will you pour

Will you stay a while

Upon my brow

Remind me of my skin

Alive in your touch

Words of an authors tale

Where will you flow

Will you stay a while

To caress the space within

Empty of all except the words

You share to tell the world

The path you spin

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Fragments

Distant I wonder

Can I grasp

I reach so far

To touch

And fail

Where do you go to

My lovely

Inside the fog

When I’m alone

In my mind

A glimmer drips

To grasp

To pretend

To hope

They are blind

To the loss

Of context

Of fear

Of the unknown

ignorance of

Myself of

What I know

I no longer know

(C)

Frankie Mcgivney grasping at memories in a fog not knowing if any exist or if the only dreams are future thoughts with the past forever lost. But still a smile for the courage of humanity to be alive to hear the bird song while waking to forgetting names sometimes my own