Saturday

They sense the special

In each other

My ma and my daughter

The wonder in their eyes

The gentle strength

Of their soul

The words of my ma

Expressions to explain

The exploration of the self

Is added to by the query of

Her grandchild

Standing over the place of rest

Of my grand parents

Shared with the ashes of my da

Her question with a twinkle

do you get to choose

Your grave neighbours ?

Catching my eye

The one we share in misdirected

Common beauty.

Our laughter mingled

With the words

Reaching beyond the ordinary

To a place where

Dreams embrace the wonder

Of thoughts drifting unheeded

By human restraints

To wonder at the beauty of the world

Where dragonflies drift within the mind

Through rainbow slides of self discovery

Gentleness

He could see it in her eyes the way she looked at him from behind the screen. her hand reached out to touch her son who had returned. The reinstated gentleness in him as obvious to her as the colour of the fields or the taste of hot tea after a walk of a stormy day.

The blood flowing in his veins cleaned and cleared, his mind behind his own eyes softer, more aware of the world around him, with memories fleeting but still there to be welcomed for the precious time until they flittered back behind doors not locked but jammed shut in need of prising open when the inclination would come upon him. Sometimes they just swing open on their own accord. A glimpse of beauty wrapped in a gift of feelings and images and heightened sensory delights.

he recognises in himself the words of the nurse. “when your mother says no she means no” with a smile on her lips for the respect for a woman of determined mind while it roams in a desert of uncertainty and fear.

In himself he embraces the gentleness. his words comforting his soul as he listens to conversations and recognises a calmness he lost among the chaos and the process of living.

not that the time between gentle tides was anything but filled with wonder and joy too. the ebb and flow on the sunny beach needs the ocean’s scream to sing the mellow tune of peace.

(c) Frankie McGivney 10/05/2021 (feeling blessed)

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

A seat

The bench, old and worn, was cold to the touch through the wool of my trousers

Hi

I could see a line of grime etched into the lines beneath her face as she looked up from her can and threw the shortest of dirty looks expertly mingled with a sound mixture of disinterested distain

Sometimes no doesn’t have to be put Into words or perhaps a look is the strongest no

Still and all it’s not a bad day all things considered

The look again this time I noticed a bunch of her hair stuck together with blood or sweat or vomit or whatever sticks hair together when a member of the human fraternity doesn’t get to avail of the washing facilities of a day or even a month

You can go fuck of if you think you getting something out of me I’m no hooker

I’m no punter either

Good cos I’m particular about who I be having the fun with

Me too

Yeah right

Yeah right exactly

Don’t be getting fucking smart you fucker

I just saying I not into hookers

You should be

Ah here

Well the state of you with the head on you and that Gammy eye and you look like your mother picked out the clothes. Is that wool?

Feck sake you’re worst than a commentator on one of them shows

What shows

You know the xfactor bollixology

Here listen don’t be using that kind of language in front of a Lady

Fair enough

And a slow breeze trailed across our path while we both looked on at the city passing by. a quietness in the kaleidoscope of hustle

You know no one talks as they walk

I looked up and listened and watched

Your man over there is talking on his phone

I thought I told you not to be a wise fucker

You only mentioned being a smart one

Whatever. He is on a phone that don’t count

Why not

It just doesn’t

Why

Cos it’s like the mad cunts who talk to themselves it’s not real talking it’s just pretend chitter chatter

I see what you mean

About the phone

No about them not talking they just are all rushing

Yeah

Yeah

Have you a light

Have you a fag

Yeah

Right then

And I saw her eyes were brown when she held the flame

She would have been a beautiful daughter to some Da a long time ago

She held the smoke deep inside, feeling it’s warmth before slowly releasing it back into the world

I better make a move

She nodded and looked back down

I touched her shoulder gently when i stood, the briefest of contacts; she didn’t react, maybe she hadn’t noticed

I walked on with out a word been uttered to a soul, a member once more of the rushing throngs

(C) frankie mcgivney

Just a random story of top of my head I hope it reads okay. The words I love to write

Peace forgotten

Whispering the wind

Hails my peace

Thundering showers

Raging in my mind

Images spiralling

I stretch I tear the skin

From my arms to grasp

The memories they hold

But I fail

I surrender

the fight over

They cry their tears

The desire to be caught

Lost in the silence

The empty echo

I hear inside

The peace

A hollow friend

I wished

I never embraced

With hollow thoughts

A friend reflected

In the mirror

With my eyes

Vacant of the past

My memories

Shut behind a door

With a key

Rusted from overuse

The therapy to remember

Corroded, it lies with the rest

Memory notes with words

I can’t comprehend

Images I can’t recall

Screams I can’t roar

Calm I drift inside

To heal to hope

To stray slow

Along a path

With a start

As unclear

As the end

Praying

I’ll find a peace

Full of dreams

Rather than this

Blank space

void of memory

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Remember when you see the emptiness in another’s eyes that behind the empty echos is a man or woman struggling to reach themselves before ever they can touch the world outside

Rambles

Does the laughter make the truth you speak more palatable or more interesting. When I talk and their expressions fade to blank and you wonder is it because they know more than you , is there some secret fountain of knowledge from which they can easily scoop another dram of facts, a cup you are not privy to its location.

Or do they not get what you are saying or trying to say. Does it go over their heads or is it so boring as to float on by their consciousness

And you can make them laugh sometimes they probably giggle too much to the point of potentially embarrassing physical reactions.

But do they hear the thoughts behind the humour . Do the theories pass unnoticed . Does the inquisitions of my mind to touch those bits of humanity beyond my grasp register in their minds

Who realises the true vocation of the clown to reveal the audacity of the kings new clothes made of invisible thread

When they tell me their fibs do they ever realise I know. Do they fool themselves to believe their attempt at fooling me works. Does the ability to smile and ignore the lies make me more or less of a man. So easy to answer because of course it depends. Sometimes acceptance of others attempts at deception is a kindness to them. Other times a kindness to myself because I don’t care enough to point out the fallacy of their fiction.

Then there’s the beauty of the opening of the eyes when someone of the same realises you have recognised their own explorations of the world around us. The meeting of the eyes as minds embrace in a search for revelations beyond the common tongue

(C) frankie Mcgivney (falling asleep and wanting to keep writing but the eyes fail where the mind strives to explore)

Happy

It’s not that their sad

Or want to be

It’s just they’re not happy

They’re not unhappy either

Is it the worst state to be

Neither one or the other

Is there no feelings where they lay

Not smiling or crying

With no jokes to make her cringe

Or no sad tale to make them sorry

they were foolish enough to have

enquired of your state of pleasure

A monotonous line where memory

Is safe and you don’t howl at the moon

Where frustration screams to be heard

And orgasms come and go without

A growl or a a roar

In the morning the reflection reminds

Me to smile to take the crooked eye

As a reminder of who I am and smile

With gratitude for looking as different

As the words inside veer from the mean

To embrace the sing song of the dreams

I hear echoing from sky to river in my

Mind searching for a page to be born

I can’t remember some things but my

Soul remember a touch an embrace

A warmth a love a joy a body

Eyes and scars smooth skin soft hair

The sound of her breath

The smell of her soul

The scream of her pleasure

The ripple of her ecstasy

Her eyes on me from afar

And I look into my eyes and I say

Today frankie is a day when

You will sing a song

And tell a tale

When laughter will be shared

And you will feel alive

And I prefer to feel enough

To forget and to cry and to

Laugh and to roar and howl

And read and write and sing

To notice the orange of a sky

And the fresh breeze of a midnight sky

To hear the heart beat of being me

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Random

Corduroy boots prancing

She stepped beyond the

Pole he wrote on the line

Weeping lines of ash

Trailers painted morning

Pink reflecting in Spaniard

Dancing boots of vacant

Leather

Hidden he commences

To descend above the flames

Burnt into pale fluorescent

Tattoos depicting the stray

Torture of a dreary priests

Last moments

Curled toes stretch to caress

The lost pole golden skin

Of the girl lying naked

Fiddling with his emotions

While her cross eyed stare

Describes the winter time

Design of her corduroy

Boots cast meaninglessly

Before the amber turf

Of his vacant fire

(C) Francis Mcgivney

Steps

Tiny feet to stroll

Slow from her

Breast to grow

Fascinated to

Feel the wonder

Tiny steps to make

The garden grow

To meadows

Full of dreams

(Kids realise small steps make the world grow large and allow the wonder to be absorbed

Adults see the end with their big auld steps and fail to see the wonder between

I like

Of a day when the light shines

Or a night when the moon wanes

I have an inclination in my soul

To disco dance naked under

A velvet sky while reading a poem

I heard somewhere about dragonflies

Roamimg beneath a rainbow cloud

Of half demented singing robins

Who fell in love with wide eyed swans

Along a lake side where humans kiss

While holding hands refusing the cross

To love a man or a woman with golden

Hair or purple or brown skin or black

Who strokes a cat with love or walks

A dog or pictures a day when mans

Dreams no longer include guns

Where stones build halls to sing

And floors to swing surrounded by

A jungle of trees breathing the earths

Air and exhaling the green for a

Panther and a giraffe, a rat and a

Lion, an elephant and every creature

Inbetween who swim in lakes

Of blue shimmering crystal stars

Of lifes sweet hope feeding flora

Coloured from the ultra of the crimson

To the infra of the purple in hippey

Jippey and straight and narrow

Lines of all the souls free from

The guilt of god and the cruetly

Inflicted by demented men

To float among the worlds of

Imagination where adults

Remember the secrets of fairy

Rings and gobstoppers and

Imaginary friends who cuddle

When you cry and friends hold

Hands and hugs are free

And pages are turned to read

Words and pencils return to

Draw rainbow in the sky

Above shoeless races through

Meadows of wild.flowers

To the song of the corn crake

Romancing a.pink flamingo

With poor eyeside and a taste

For all the world has to gift

To those.who open their hearts

To touch the world with love

(C) Frankie Mcgivney