Monthly Archives: October 2016

The Man of Double Deed

There was a man of double deed,
Who sowed his garden full of seed;

And when the seed began to grow,
It was like a garden full of snow;

And when the snow began to melt,
It was like a ship without a belt;

And when the ship began to sail,
It was like a bird without a tail;

And when the bird began to fly,
It was like an eagle in the sky;

And when the sky began to roar,
It was like a lion at my door;

And when my door began to crack,
It was like a stick across my back;

And when my back began to smart,
It was like a penknife in my heart;

And when my heart began to bleed,

Twas death,

And death,

And death, indeed.

By Anonymous

Read by Jamie Dornan in The Fall.

Happy Halloween Folks..

Where Cold Ghosts Meet

On Grafton Street she was putting the finishing touches to her chalked coloured masterpiece.
She drew love hearts over all the i’s, pretty they were in their painful disguise.

I had seen her work before, on the ground of Henry Street, her colours then washed away by the man in the truck that sweeps.

I never made time to read them, you know how we are sometimes in a rush?

Last night, I stopped.
I stopped, instead of glancing at the wares inside the windows of the Brown Thomas shop.

I stopped, became moved without moving.
Together we read her chalked words.
Her message reminded us how we should never look down on others.
I asked her could I sit down?
Together we shared a space on the cold October ground.

Her Mother gifted her to the State when she was 12.
Pragmatically she explained, it was for her own safety’s sake.

I asked her was she not fostered?
Shaking her head she told me how her Mam still had rights at the time.
Voluntarily she entrusted her into the arms of the state,
with a promise and a hope to take back home some day.

‘Where did you grow up?’ I asked her.
It turned out we we both grew up in Tallaght.
Looking at her face, I felt I could have known her Mother.
She explained that she grew up in Jobstown, I said ‘so did I’.
She looked back at me with shock in her eyes.

She calls herself April.
She is 18 and a half years old.
She grew up running away from various Care Homes, she didn’t like the hostels, she said ‘it’s not safe to sleep on the street.’

‘I have a tent, another couple stay there too, no one comes near us.’ She assured me it was somewhere safe to rest her pretty red head.

She has somewhere to have a shower every day at nine.
She goes to Art classes in a homeless project, to pass away the time.

More than anything she just wants a real home, so she can go back to school.
This young girl has had it hard, but she is nobody’s fool.
She is waiting for aftercare, the social worker closed her case.
Eighteen years old, no longer a care for the State.

April wants to go to Trinity, she reads a lot.
To study history, even be an archaeologist some day.

I told her she was too beautiful for the streets, she said ‘ah, thanks, thanks a lot.’ She really was ever so sweet.

April grew up across the river from where I lived.
The river being a trickle that divides a multitude of lives.

I am sorry for you, I said.
I don’t feel sorry for you.
I am just sorry you have to live this life.

We hugged, longer than we needed to.

April being no fool, is burdened by circumstances.

She is just a young girl who deserves the right to go back to school.

An Peann

I asked April was it okay to write about her, she said it was okay. If you are reading this, stay safe.
You will go to Trinity some day.
Big Hug.xxx

When I was a Child

I sometimes saw a young girl walk across my parents bedroom.
She was about ten. She wore a dress that looked at least one hundred years old. She never spoke or changed over the years

It would happen when I passed their room. It happened many times.
Once my Mother sent me to fetch her hairbrush, when I turned the small corridor into their room the girl was sitting at my Mothers dresser, combing her own hair.

She looked up and grinned.
Frightened the living daylights out of me.
There was always things happening in the house.

Another time, I seen a man’s legs walk up the stairs.
Dad had been at a council meeting that night, arriving home just seconds after the legs made their way upstairs. Dad thought it was a burglar.
Himself and his friend Gus ran up the stairs, searching for the owner of the legs.
All they found was my hiding place, behind the wardrobe. Where I would throw everything when I pretended to tidy my room.
The owner of the legs was never found.
My parents were mortified, my Mother nearly killed me, made a show of her she said.

No one sleeps in that room now. It’s cold in there.

I wonder does the girl still brush her hair?
I don’t believe in banshees, but I believe in that girl.

As for the man’s legs, I’m not certain.. He was wearing jeans, maybe he was a trendy spirit.

An Peann

Laura the Lioness

Laura you are so beautiful
With the heart of a Lioness
Trust me when I say this, with you, life will never mess.

Watching you every birthday with those beautiful big blue eyes, there is no doubt your Dad will forever have to beat away the boys.

You have always been so talented
You are an artistically minded girl.
As a natural debater, you always speak your mind.
That’s what makes us love you, what makes you one of a kind.

Today you are a teenager, there will be challenges ahead, all wrapped in bright adventures, which you will breeze through without dread.
Remember this my sweetheart, always love yourself, that’s the magic formula in a world that will sometimes make you doubt.

Always hold your head up, stay kind, be strong, be brave and laugh.
There are many a teenage girl who would give anything, to have half your beautiful heart.

Happy 13th Birthday Laura

Love you to the moon and back..

An Peann

Metal Horses

In the darkness they leave, pushing wheels across crunching gravel.

They move quietly around corners, waiting for the morning air to awaken their senses.

They walk up the steep hill, like it’s Everest, smiling in relief as they reach the top.

The sunrise stretches his red arms across the sky as they reach the graveyard on the hill.

Stopping again, they dismount to give way for another weary soul.

She puts her hand upon the clasp of his young hand, thinking, it’s time for gloves again.
I love you, he said. With a smile and a tighter grip over his hand, she loves him back.

Leaving each day in the darkness they awaken with the sunrise.

Returning home each night, they see the remain of the day nod his head at the coming of the night.

We are their metal horses, their trusty steeds, we take them safely and swiftly, from their sleepy dreams. There is a lot our bicycle wheels have heard and seen.

An Peann.