Tag Archives: writing

Tears drip from blue

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

Random

Roses grow where the rivers flow

Do you think so

Well yes

By the bank?

The river bank

Where the crocodile sings

Roars

Yeah roar

Not in this country

Or county

Unless one escaped from the zoo

They’d have a long way to crawl

To the Liffey

The scummers would get it

Ah the croc would win

Be hard to win with a crocodile

Or a cross woman

Eyed or nature

Either or

Coffee or tea

Wine

Red or white

A big glass

Really

Nah red

Frankie mcgivney random conversation again just to get back into swing of the words

Random

There you are and he milling the spuds and no bother on him while the blood floated in the air and the roars evolved to screams and the light fading to dark.

The beef didn’t meet the appearance of steak and toughness would be the word best used for a texture hidden by an over zealous salt shaker

And he told them to stop the swinging

Why they asked sure isn’t the damage done

Because the juice from the cow is all I have an inclination to enjoy

Sure we’ll be finished soon

So will I so just hold on until I put the fork down on the plate beside the knife in a patrolled fashion or perhaps with the top slightly touching

And the sound from the radio is a song from a time when he was young and bolde and seeking truth and he will be humming it for the day

There was no need for what they had done but he couldn’t be telling them when he was the one who bred them into the ways of his heart

Her smile drifts from the shadows. Laughing at the strange ways of him knowing she wouldn’t be having it any other way apart from the unusual touch of his mind upon the world

The cat on the wall beside the bush where the sycamore watched the blackberries erupt in autumn yawned with the mundanity of the scene

The napkin slipped to lie on the once proud floor

I’ll be heading then he replied

Give ma a hug for us

Right then

The wind smelled of a factory in need of closing as he stepped outside and wondered where the madness ended and the sanity began

Frankie loving the words spilling from his mind

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

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

plot

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

Little notes to myself

They dumped the Trump. Finally realising he wasn’t the winning card but losing cad

Katie Taylor beat the world

Feed the nightmares by eating a cheese sandwich. Does different types create different imaginings

Talking reaches out and takes sadness in its embrace

There’s no coming back from treating some one with the ultimate contempt of believing they will except a betrayal of love. The betrayal is nothing only a moment in time. The contempt of thinking so little of them represents an internal self definition which last a lifetime with no return

Love yourself the way your dog loves you

Love others like a cat loves you

Sometimes another human can make you turn away with the desire to lash down a Valium by drinking a dissolvable tramadol

Blind boy’s pod cast look it up

Take a break and learn from the laughter created by Tommy tiernan

Read something

Remember you belong

Don’t be going off asking an Irish person a question if you aren’t prepared to spent a bit of time listening to the story of the answer

The story won’t be all true but you know it’s not true and I know it’s not true but we both know it’s not true so that’s okay.

Problem is some people don’t realise the stories aren’t fully true. The real quest is to meet the challenge of knowing truth from story telling and discovering which to enjoy and which to ponder upon

Cats love while still protecting themselves by remaining the cat who allows the human into their lair

Dogs love by wagging their tails and jumping around like a lunatic just out of the house for the bewildered after 20 years in a strait jacket

No matter how bad COVID is or anything else the options are to learn from the experience or to not

(C) frankie Mcgivney writing stuff

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

Long goodbye

Stretching out he reaches but fails to touch the fingers he loves to sense inside his mind feeding the spirit of who he wants to be.

Quiet in himself he resides within thoughts made of claddagh ring eternity enshrined in the unbroken circle of silver band surrounding his heart

Fear of losing if the path is strolled on the left compounds the eternal turmoil of fear beset strolling the path on the right drawing his heart further from the fingers touch

Where’s the water edge? For I long to walk beneath the waves to feel the hollow bath surround the whole of my self. The ripples of the echos blocking the pain of a world outside where joy lies in a blackberry thorn and the red of the morning burns inspiring moments of spontaneous meditative states of mind

Inside the pages the worlds of escape over the sacred release to forget for a spell the long goodbye harrowing through his marrow. A rhyme to celebrate the only drug worthy of consumption the medicine of paragraphs growing into tales of darkness splintered by light

Words of songs linger developing plots unworthy of trust or belief yet as real as reality perceived by a species devoid of the wherewithal to know the dimensions beyond our fickle self determination to be who we can be while ignoring who we are

Frankie writing random words to seek the crack he lost today among the fogs of his mind wondering why the long goodbye keeps playing as lyrics in his soul