<< Back to the main Stories/poems page
Now take good care and wrap up well,
Don’t go wand’rin’ on your own,
Did you bring your coat and woolly socks?
Here’s a hat to keep you warm,
Do you have your sweets and lollipops?
Please save some for tonight,
Make sure to share and do beware,
And the weekend will go alright.
Let Gerry sit beside yer one,
There’s a twinkle in his eyes,
The bus is full of grinning kids,
As they say their last goodbyes,
Anxious mums are gathered round,
Sure they’ll see them Sunday night,
Hear tales of great adventures,
And scary yarns that caused a fright.
Laughter fills the evening sky,
As they head off to the Glen,
They wave at kids in backseat cars,
Chat non-stop to lifelong friends,
There’s no better way to holiday,
Than with your favourite mates,
Up all night with old flashlights,
Hatching plans for romantic dates.
Wiping mist from sleepy eyes,
They rise up to greet the sun,
With holdalls strapped to happy hearts,
They head off for Easter fun,
The river crossed, a mighty bang,
A scene no child should see,
The Garden County looks so bare,
Not a flower nor a buzzin’ bee.
A brave boy holds his brother tight,
Tears streaming down his face,
He whispers gently in his ear,
It’s time for the last embrace,
Why is life so cruel, he asks.
Why does he have to die?
Will the angels come to take him
Will they teach him how to fly?
A village is numb and silent,
On that dreadful weekend day,
They can’t believe the tragic news,
From down south near Wicklow Way,
It’ll never be the same again,
It’s so hard to understand,
How an unexploded rusty shell,
Could be left on sacred land.
Cameras click, the press descend,
Children think its all great fun,
They’re spotted on the evening news,
Eating crisps and hot cross buns,
Silly men in silly suits,
Play silly blaming games,
While family homes lie torn apart,
They should hang their heads in shame.
The radio sounds a tearful tune,
It floats out on the tide,
There’s a fog along the horizon,
A strange glow that won’t subside,
Bright eyes, burning like fire,
Bright eyes, how can they close and fail,
How can three lights that burned so brightly,
Suddenly burn so pale,
Bright eyes.
By John Kelly
(No, no... they’re good poems, they’re not great poems! – A Journey of Discovery).
|