To yellow trailing the pain of fear
Tanks roll where babies should crawl
Missiles roar the screams of war
Silk blankets flutter in the dark
Covering the devils incarnate
While air raid sirens cover
The old sheltering the young
Death can’t kill the soul
Of the brave
With pockets filled
For the sunflowers to grow
Freedom can’t be taken
From the spirit of the people
Frankie mcgivney
Excuse the language but fuck you putin you evil Humpty Dumpty bastard
I wish I could say
I lost the plot
But I’d have to have found it first
So many words I have waiting
To sprint to finish the race
Lining up to slow for effect
Raring to roar for design
A structure waiting for logic
To define the curves of paths
Please spirit in the sky
Touch my mind with the tale
To light the shine of my writing soul
(C) Frank McGivney wondering what tale is there waiting to fill the void of the drunken keyboards lust for words
Passing screams of bikes
Leather clad fans of speed
Swish by my walking mind
Listening to words wise
On the blues to make the
Melancholy shoes trample
The green fields to hear
The summer time tune
Of blue tit wings fluttering
The line well worn where
Beauty waits for the touch
Gentlly strong grasping
The joy of dew dripped
Strands of natures gift
(C) frank mcgivney
She held my hand today
To make me smile
She laughs you know
When I tell a tale
The dog barked
Along our way
She tells me things
To make me think
Wisdom in her eyes
Of twelve
Behind the look
The one we share
For rainbow smiles
And dragonfly kisses
The quest for wonder
She held my hand today
My daughter
(C) Frank mcgivney
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
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
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.
she smiled feeling the skin of her finger caress the palm of her waiting hand. Beyond the walls a man from Belfast sang a tune about a dance. The silver from the New York moon shone through the slit in the curtains tracing a line between their prone bodies splitting the bed in two equal parts, a jigsaw waiting to be pieced together in mutual desire. Somewhere a child with over eager lungs screamed for a mammy who was too drunk to care, a cat shimmied through an alley in the display of metal rubbish bins beneath the window, where their eyes sought the unquestioned answers of a lifetime of timid downcast smiles and whispered hellos.
The world of reality is left behind as the eyes drink the clearing fog of the place inside where dreams become words and fiction becomes your truth
this writing malarkey is fascinating. Doing it nearly a year and a half now and every day I learn new stuff.
The interesting for me the last few weeks is what happens when you add an extra dimension to a character and then rewrite what you had written previously.
It’s like a new world opens up, a more interesting one for the character to explore or in this case cause havoc.
I’m excited what this let sing curve will throw my way next.
Words I love to write 