Tranquility
———————
Won’t you lay me down on Achill sound
Where beauty,hills and sea surround
Let nature be my resting place
Green grasses, reeds surround my face
Let strangers pass by unaware
Of the life I’ve lived or who lies there
Maybe they’ll bow in whispered prayer
Or just ramble on without a care.

 

The Rose

—————

Soft pink and scented
She stood elegantly
Slender well presented

On a woody barbed pedestal.
Swaying gently in the breeze.
Look on in amazement

 

At natures great achievement.
And glory in the grace
The way she proudly takes her place
Amongst the nettles and the weeds
Adding beauty to the air from which
She feeds.

 

Photograph :  by Joe Black

 

 
What a glorious country we all live in 

Where we take everything with a grin

Where we always complain and give in

Where our taxes and rates they get higher

Where our pensions our politicians did plunder

Where They scratch their heads and then wonder

Why the country is falling asunder.

Where our leaders are totally driven

In volvos and merks – too few women

in dry mansions we see them all live in

To fix the health service they have striven 

The sick In hospital on trollies a given

Doctors and nurses are not just magicians

Attempting to cut back on admissions

At work in unsafe cramped conditions.

The homeless rise as rentals have risen

In expensive hotels they now live in

For the Luas the roads they are digging

Is it a plan or are they just hopefully thinking.
I’m joking of course, just acting the goat

Next month they’ll be out there wanting your vote

And for all of our moaning, complaining and groaning

With flood plains and bog lands that their still rezoning 

With wage rises and tax breaks they’re always postponing 

 We look for a party that’s straight up not phoney

Have we the confidence to change it 

I think not, If Only.

          Jpoet7

Shopping
Look out on the world today
See The adds, what do they say
Buy this, eat that, invest your money,
It would be great it could be funny
Now peel it off and start undressing
Find the truth it’s pure depressing
All the extras, sugars, kilos,
All the numbers Es and zeros
All the models,slim and suntanned
Make it look like even you can
Make up, Heath food even clothes
Exploiting all, it seems anything goes.
Now Pick your way so carefully through
And just choose the item that will suit you.
Jpoet7

  Even the dark knows its place
Sometimes life turns in the opposite direction

You think that you have it down to perfection

And then slap your world tips upside down

Your face turns from a smile into a frown 
You find it difficult you wonder why

A tear falls slowly from your eye

Time to wish your dreams goodbye

Shed a tear and heave a sigh
But there is always another side

It doesn’t pay to be annoyed

It will not change what’s gone before

No worry or fret will it restore
There is a future open up your mind

You’ll be surprised by what you’ll find

The bright sunshine you can replace

For even The dark knows its place

       Jpoet7

I must tell the story of how I spent my summers. The first and still vivid in my mind were the times I spent with my aunt and grandma in Ranelagh. I can still remember the long narrow garden, the scent of strawberries and the fold up deck chairs with the candy stripe patterned material . I can remember also napping on the sofa in the afternoons, waking up with a sixpence ( a lot of money back then ) tucked under the pillow , my aunt and I would then walk down to the shop near the church in the sunshine, ( it was always sunny ) pass by the priest bow head salute , back then there were horse drawn carts my aunt used tell me to hold my breath for fear of choking as we passed the horse droppings, ice cream and hop back home not a care in the world, where my grandma would always be, a small thin lady dressed in black , they always did spot the ball and the x word, I think in the Sunday press ,back then it was an adventure ,now I can hear my 7 year old ” bored ” I can’t remember ever being bored. We used to spend most of our summers on the farm where my mother was born ,we worked in the fields thinning turnips with a hoe , picking potatoes, drawing in the hay riding on the back of the tractor, milking cows by hand into bright shiny tin buckets, white warm and fresh, the tail of the cow swishing the flies and the three legged wooden stool. We used to watch my auntie make butter in the churn feed the chickens, hear the cock crow in the mornings, collect the eggs in the barn and have breakfast . We did not have running water in the house back then and used to go to the well and carry the buckets back fresh, clear, cold, spring water and the tank at the side of the house which would fill with rain water.

             The Special One
A boy walks under a grey clad sky

A secret teardrop in his eye

His mind is full of angst and torment

The fear within, a confidence rent

The bullies they for years did vent

Their poison vicious virulence

The cowards they hid in darkened corners

Spreading lies and hurting comments

Did they really know the damage done

To that little special one

His stuttering start had made him different

Or maybe it was his dark skin pigment

If only they could have looked beyond

A tender beauty that could be found

Instead they took of flesh a pound

And left him screaming, not a sound.

         Jpoet7

The power of the pen is proven once again, for those interested I read my poem to my 8 year old. Immediate response, computer off, at the table eating normality restored. No furniture damaged ✍🏻💪

 

The new age
I called him out at two o clock

And then again at four

He said that he’s not hungry

So I called him out once more

He’s so tied up with his cyber world

He forgets that he’s alive

Am I an awful father

No I will call again at five

I wonder if this resonates

With others of like mind

I could just turn off all his games

Do you think it would be unkind.

I did as I suggested and there was such a row

His voice it raised up slightly

His words increased and how

I know his world is good for him

but surely he can measure

That too much time in cyber world

Puts families under pressure

Jpoet7

            When she sings

I pick up my vinyl record

 I place it on the dial

I walk onto the dance floor

I jive around with style
My feet they keep on tapping

My lips begin to move

My heart is beating faster

Now that I am in the groove
What makes this so amazing

Is that I’m sixty and I’m ageing

Like a youth I am behaving

When I hear her sing

Jpoet7