jpoet7/Joseph Black Photography

Man with man
Woman woman
To what is holy Ireland
Cummin

In bishops time it was a crime
 to have a kiss,
Place hands on hips and maybe slip.

The lane ways searched
The hedgerows combed

The kneelers worn,
The first confession born

Dark small and scarey
Words whispered ,muttered only barely

The terrible sins spoken in fright,

Thank God the pope would put us
 Straight

To keep us gay and full of laughter
,

A better world forever after.

—————————————————————————————————————-

WAKE  UP

I woke this morning to that shrill sound,

I spun swiftly around and frowned,

Hit the snooze button and waited,

Watching the countdown, another Ten minutes, Out I rolled hair ruffled, I shuffled

Toward the shower , the cold water stinging

Waking every nerve in my tired creaking body

All set for another enterprising day

Lunch came round

The hunger pangs

I sink my fangs

Into a roll of cheese and ham

A coffee spike then on the bike

To work away the pressures of the day,

Evening comes , the traffic hums,

Tempers flare ,we’re nearly there,

Home at last , watch TV, have our tea,

Set the clock, tick tock , tick tock,

The alarm blares ,it is’nt fair,

Yet another day , who really cares