Tag Archives: peace

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

Words

It was 77 and the world was new

He owned a horse of clay

A crooked eye and a dream

To be a man who rules himself

It was 88 he had it all

The flower in the morning

The light of the night

The dream was born

The diesel spilled

On the carpet floor

They took her light

They killed his soul

It was 19

He remembered

It is 20

He remembers

The screams

Which made him forget

The echo of her agony

Which makes him forget

The bitter taste of the fear

Which made him forget

the calm envelopes

Stretching to embrace

Its touch a new discovery

Among the complexity inside

Revealing the sunrise

Waiting to warm when

Hatred succumbs to forgiveness

Of what he must never again

Forget.

The silent spring of peace

Caressing gently

The anger the pain the fear

To reveal again the light

Through the crack

Which lies in everything

(C) frankie Mcgivney

Words are my strength they heal inside they bring laughter and smiles they are the ones to restore the soul they took away

Home town

My home town

It has changed
Or is it me
No neither
The shops are richer
In feel
From the time of
Excess.
Along the borders
The lean times have
Decayed
The gloss to a shine.
The faces have changed
But I recognise the people
I see them in other
Places
In other times
It’s the voices
Flat, familiar.
Indistinguishable
Words
Wrap me in a warmth
A feeling for the place
Where I grew from
Seed to stalk.
The thorns that tore
Skin and drew blood
Gaze down from
Hills where a cross
Marks a town.
My town where home
Has stayed the blanket
Of warmth of eternal
Peace and childhood
Dreams

(C)frank Mcgivney
Jan 2015 in Clonmel
Co tipp where the blue
Meets the gold along
The banks of the suir
Under the shadow of
Slievenamon.