Category Archives: poetry

Talking

Would you say hello

If I smiled and said hi

Do they sit and listen

When tales are spun

Do the words drift away

To float in an amber sky

Lay your shirt upon my sleeve

Say the words I long to hear

Twist a poem and story

With a lack of truth or just a touch

It don’t matter just say it out

Say it loud

And listen

Please listen

To those who try

To go beyond the screens

The veils which hide

The beauty of the words

The logic it twists

The picture burns

Impregnates and tunes

The song inside

Drift away from your desk

And hear

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Young love remembers that of me

Long ago i used to hear your smiling

in the place where my lonely heart will be

now i stray alone among the lost dreams

Where the thoughts they fade away to whispers

and young love remembers that of me

___

Alone she wraps the scarf around me

in the tale the wind it shadows free

my eyes they see the strangers fingers

and her smile is lost for you and me

And young love remember that of me

___

Stolling down the brook now

i listen to the flowers in their bloom

they flutter their prayers to my memory

where the river meanders to a stream

And young love remember that of me

 

(c) Frank McGivney (a work in progress)

 

I forget to remember

I beg them to stay

To lay beside my bed

They were my friends

But off they stray

Away from where

I lost my way.

My words

They’ve gone

So far

From my pen

I feel the trickle

Of my dreams

Trail further

From my mind

I forget sometimes

To remember

But worse

I remember

All the things

I can’t ‘recall

My new pal

dementia

It’s calling echoes

In the valley

I hear it’s bell

I fear the hell

It promises

To reveal

When I stand

Lost in my land

The place I’ve know

As home

(C) Frank mcgivney

Pain

I lied when i said i cried

i told you it hurt inside

it tore my chest apart

it burnt my eyes my soul

but all you did was make me die

give it to me raw

i’ll take it home

to the fire inside

i’ll burn it all

the whole

to leave the ash

Take it

snort that

instead

and float so high

you leave me to lie

to wallow in my pain

the one i pretend to feel

where the tear

drips

and a stain grows

and I can be

Free

to

be

Just

me

(C) Frank McGivney

Talking to the Junkies

The white of the clouds is lying on the ground and you have a hoodie on and wrapped around that a caridgan with a hood and you forgot your cotton socks and the extra thick ones  from pennys are wearing thin and your mind is wandering and the times they are a changing.

but not for you or others just for some. Somewhere out there over the rainbow where the sun shines and the frost melts, a man with no goats or attachement to the land or the sea is singing a song he heard somewhere that goes “the mad ones never forget”. The girl on the bus beside him asks how to get of but he cant remember and the crowd sings waltzing matilda

so

he screams

and

she screams

and

the bus man roars and all at once there was crowd, a host of junkies on the quay.

they have held hands through it all. from the start to the end from him shitting in the bed to her doing the same. they have given their bodies to the brown and we walk by in disgust and once i said hello to them and he sneered and she winked and i wanted to tell them i didnt care if they stuck brown crap in the veins, no more than i didnt care if i am talking to a judge or a priest. but they didnt want to know no more than those others wouldnt want to know either. The identify their souls with who they tell themselves they are but all i see is the eyes and the skin and the mind and the thoughts

i’m selfish. I want to hear their stories, to laugh at the madness of their tales. the ones they tell once they give over with the sadness and the self pity. She would have been a ride in her day before it took it over. He was as ugly as fuck and dangerous looking in his wee skinny intimidating way.

the world passes on

 

And i apologise for not posting since 2016. more to me than to anyone else. I write at home on a laptop and few if any see it. The words are my friend and the sentences when  poetic my lovers and sometimes of an spring day they are hard to share because maybe no one else will embrace them the way i do but then i dream and i realise the truth of a butterfuly being only truely majestic when it flies free.

Blood brothers

Blood brothers

Nowhere between lost and found
Where souls meet change
Where redemption pounds 
Shadows drift to light
And smiles dismiss
the twisted tales
A heart beat drums
The pounding rhythm
Of brothers born
Not of blood
But a common path

Frank mcgivney 07.06.16

Life to me is all about family. The family of you birth. The family of your home. The family of your work. The family of your mates.

Blood brothers

Blood brothers

Nowhere between lost and found
Where souls meet change
Where redemption pounds 
Shadows drift to light
And smiles dismiss
the twisted tales
A heart beat drums
The pounding rhythm
Of brothers born
Not of blood
But a common path

Frank mcgivney 07.06.16

Life to me is all about family. The family of you birth. The family of your home. The family of your work. The family of your mates.