paddyd65 Poetry (10)

It's Saturday morning the excitement grows,
From the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes,
Jump out of bed and run down the stair,
Avoiding my mother with the brush for my hair,
Bolt down the cornflakes place the bowl in the sink,
She asks me a question but I've no time to think,

I ask her to hurry she hands me a tin,
That's the admission, the price to get in,
Be it beans or soup or a quarter of tea,
That was the price, that was the fee,
A knock at the door, I know who'll that be,
Oh those were the days my posse and me.

We strolled down the main street with sixshooters in hand,
In our heads, the meanest gang in the land,
We handed over our bounty to a nice man called Joe,
In ye go lads we've got a great show,

The house lights were up, ah but then they went dim,
The stamping of feet, it made such a din,
On came the lone ranger with tonto his mate,
I thought he was magic, I thought he was great,
The cartoons that followed I loved most of all,
Till that's all folks, indeed that was all,

Its now forty years on, my the years they have flown,
Instead of a sixgun I now wield a phone,
Now as the lights dim and I sit in my seat,
I have to stop myself from stamping my feet.

Friday night and here I am,
At home alone I've set the alarm,
Set against who? I ask myself why,
No one will call! I know and I sigh,
Nobody's called since I don't know when,
They used to once but that was then,
Then we were a couple and part of the scene,
Now I'm alone have I become obscene.

Your younger dreams were never like this,
Bereft of ideas you stare the abyss,
Your fears come true and hopes depart,
You want to turn back, rewind from the start;

You wonder and ponder at what went wrong,
Can't someone change this poor life's song,
With doom and gloom and wearisome heart,
You wonder what was first, the horse or the cart;

These blackened thoughts they cloud your mind,
You're in a world that seems unkind,
Then one day comes a chink of light,
You meet someone who will help to fight.

The woman slowly through the graveyard walks,
She stops a while and at a grave she talks,
Oh Jimmy! oh Jimmy! oh why did you go,
You were my joy oh didn't you know,

On her face she wears a frown,
The sky so soft on her looks down,
The drizzle rain it blinds her eye,
her wobbling lip lets out a sigh.

The woman kneels down and places a flower,
She seeks her God in her neediest hour,
She always thought Him meek and mild'
But can't comprehend why He took her Child.

She fights and fights the rage within,
The thoughts she thinks she knows are sin,
She had always tried to follow the Lord,
For all her sacrifice twas poor reward.

He took her son though only five,
and yet lets the evil remain alive,
At these thoughts she begin to cry,
She kisses the stone and says goodbye.

Oh Paddy's Day the craic, the ceol,
The day in the year when you can forget the dole,
Forget life's struggle, forget life's toil,
Oh haven't you heard we've just struck oil.

Exports are growing or so they say,
But the exports are people who leave each day,
We are where we are politicians proclaim,
This lost generation is Ireland's shame.

Forced to flee by the businessman's greed,
Forced to seek the future they need,
The Government forgets it's us they serve,
With their patting of backs they've some fechin nerve.

Trapped I am, trapped I've been,
Trapped again like you never seen,
Dead end job, nine to five,
I do what I can to try to survive.

I'm working class I'd always thought,
Better yourself I was now being taught,
Better yourself and you won't look back,
Gain new knowledge that you know you lack.

They never told me of the price I'd pay,
Losing friends as I moved away,
Away from all I was sure I knew,
Insecure I rapidly grew.

I don't know where I now belong,
For what felt right sure now feels wrong,
For working class I've had too much school,
For academia I'm just a fool.

For a better life I got a fleeting taste,
But as time moved on I've been laid to waste,
My life's imploded like shattered glass,
Who were the fooling I'm working class.

It's cruel, as cruel, as cruel can be,
To get a glimpse of what I could be,
I can't help myself for I must use my head,
I fear that i become again the brain dead.

Oh bonnie face but eyes so dim,
I wonder what lie within,
What thoughts have you and dreams you see,
But there by the grace of God goes me.

What hopes and dreams do you harbour there,
Does family see you as a cross to bare,
Society labels you as mentally impaired,
Truth isyou have them scared.

The warm southwesterly I send to you,
Its warm moist air it gives hill hue,
It crosses Ireland with all its grace,
It flows over hills with clouds of lace.

You welcome it with it's warm sweet air,
It has the power to lift despair,
With its warmth it brings a smile,
As it passes over field and stile.

I think of you as it passes me by,
Sometimes a tear sometimes a sigh,
I know as it tugs and pulls at my hair,
I know what touches me here may touch you there.

You send me the northeasterly in return,
It makes my nose and ears all burn,
It's cold blast I welcome not,
I'm over here or have you forgot.

Forgot this man that once you knew,
This mere man that remembers you,
I lie to think I'm the humble kind,
But does my memory ever cross your mind.

She came here to a land so cold,
Searching for those streets of gold,
From friends and family she went away,
It is such a heavy price to pay,
A strange land and a language new,
The thoughts of home make her feel blue,
The feeling of loss in her heart it burns,
She prays for the day when she returns.

Your mind is frazzled and you're wound up so tight,
Wrapped up in a frame so slender and slight,
You worry so much about the impression you make,
Like a manikin doll cold and so fake.

You dress to say hey look at me!
I'm power personified You wish you were me,
So self-obsessed with all that you've got
Want to be you? I bloody hope not.