Poem: Grace & Hope

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Today is Lesbian Visibility Day so this is my poem Grace & Hope in honour of the day. Hope you all like it. 🙂

 

When they were 3

they used to play with Barbies

and occasionally a Cindy,

sitting for hours talking

and making up weddings

for their dolls.

 

By high school Grace

had turned all emo

while Hope joined

the debating team

and became the school nerd.

 

At 21 Grace wondered

why she was attracted to her

best friend.

After all Grace liked girls,

always had

but to the world Hope was

a guy called Ryan

but she never felt like a guy

to Grace

so it was all very odd.

 

In any case love was love

and all that jazz

and by 22 they were officially

an item

but Hope was moody

a lot of time

and Grace wished she would

let her in.

 

At 24, Hope admitted to Grace

that she was trans,

no big deal to anyone

except Daisy Johnson

who insisted they weren’t

‘a real lesbian couple’

like herself and Joan

but no one listened to her anyway.

 

At 30, they got engaged,

a mutual agreement over breakfast

in their new flat,

might be many years before

they would marry,

recreate their dolls’ weddings,

many years before they saved

for the rings

but the deal was made

and life was good.

 

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Poem: My Worth

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I want to fall in love someday,

just a little dream of mine,

some dreams come true,

some don’t I guess.

 

When in search of love

sometimes it’s easy to forget

to forget that you are

in fact pretty fabulous,

you bend into their mould

and that’s no fun.

 

Oh hell let me say it

I’m looking for a normal

in other words not a bigot,

I’m not a bigot,

why would I expect any less?

Why would I accept any less?

Forgot my worth, didn’t I?

 

Optional: funny, ambitious without being psychopathic,

but you know just a normal, kind person,

not some weirdo in other words,

just a personal preference,

might as well use the often misused buzzword:

preference.

 

I’m not picky,

just know what I like,

I want a normal,

not an abnormal

who is shocked and confused by everything,

I’m sure there’s multitudes of women, non-binary people and men out there

who fit that type,

I’ve come across a few,

let’s see what the future brings.

 

Poem: Remembering You Dad

My late father would have being 73 today. He sadly passed away in 2008. This poem is my tribute to my Dad, my best friend and my mentor today.

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Remembering You Dad

 

You would have being 73 today,

10 years departed,

you were too young to leave,

they say the good die young,

in your case,

that’s true.

 

Dad,

I still remember your

encouragement and love,

your gray hair with strands

of black through it,

your original, natural colour,

the smell of your hair products

and your Old Spice,

your South Dublin accent,

your black leather shoes

because one should always

invest in a good pair of shoes.

 

You were always one in a million,

wheeling the pram when many men

of your generation wouldn’t dare to,

before your time,

gentle and kind,

strong and ready

to take anyone on

when needed.

 

Me, Mum and Shar

miss you

and are thinking of you today

and every day.

Poem: Pink, Yellow & Blue

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(LGBT History Month has just started and this is my poem for the month.)

 

Pink, Yellow & Blue

 

At some stage or other,

I chose not to hide,

still filled with fear

of the outcome,

could I handle the prejudice?

All that superior complex stuff

that would come my way?

Then my sister reminded me

that I had faced worse

and had survived.

 

All the pink, yellow and blue

I send out into the world

and say join me

whoever you are,

I ain’t scary

and you don’t need to be either.

 

I just felt like I felt,

found a word to explain it,

you know like you

felt what you felt

and found a word to explain it.

So why do you think I’m alien?

If so, you are as much an alien as me,

just being real about it all mate.

 

All the pink, yellow and blue

I send out into the world

and say join me

whoever you are,

I ain’t scary

and you don’t need to be either.

 

I ain’t hard to understand,

a quick Google search is all

that’s required if you care

about people,

would you like people to make you out to be

so complex, so weird, so strange?

Let’s have respect for each other

then let’s be friends,

that sounds nice,

doesn’t it?

Because I don’t want to fight you,

I don’t even want to debate with you

but come at me

and I’ll come at you,

be nice to me

and I’ll be nice to you,

treat me like a human being

and I’ll treat you the same.

 

All the pink, yellow and blue

I send out into the world

and say join me

whoever you are,

I ain’t scary

and you don’t need to be either.

 

 

 

Poem: The Future

Image result for 2019

 

What does the future hold?

The million Euro question

or whatever your currency is.

They say your future is out there,

you’ve just got to find it,

to be brave enough to find it,

sometimes I begin to wonder

but maybe I’m just not brave enough.

 

 

I’m impatient,

I’m passionate,

you judge me

and feel that judgement

right back,

I’m fiery,

slightly at least,

I’m a workaholic,

I fall in love too easily,

I smoke like a trooper …

 

 

But I love life,

I love people being happy,

I love peoples’ lives not being screwed with,

I believe in a simple version of humanity

where we love and care

and I got no time for those who don’t.

I got my insecurities,

I got my belief in my talents,

I try my best,

do I do enough?

 

Can people take my baggage?

Or my introvertness?

The way I find it easier to write it down

than to say it?

Yes, I’m slightly hard work

and I’m nervous sometimes

but aren’t you too?

Why do we forget that about each other?

Is it because we’re wrapped up in ourselves?

Or is it because we live our own life everyday

and it’s hard to adjust?

 

 

It’s a New Year.

We’ve got yet another chance

to try to understand what we are meant to be doing,

to understand this game called life,

we may forget in the New Year,

revert to old patterns

but hopefully not.

It’s not always easy,

I haven’t the life experience

even at 28 that some people have

so maybe things don’t always turn out perfect.

I wear my heart on my sleeve

because like me not everyone

has their future fully realised

and I want them to know they aren’t alone

and that’s nothing to be ashamed of

but this is a new year,

get out there,

life is short,

does it matter?

Start a revolution, fall in love, both,

what does it matter if they think you’re a nut?,

eat a Fruit and Nut and smile,

just have no regrets,

just don’t say ‘I shouldve …’

or ‘Someday I’ll …’,

we all got our own issues,

our own dreams,

our own hopes,

maybe 2019 is the time to turn at least

some of those dreams and hopes into a reality.

 

 

Happy New Year to you and all your loved ones. I hope 2019 is the year for you and those you love that you all dream it will be. 🙂

 

Poem: Christmas, Oh, Christmas!

Image result for christmas shopping

 

 

 

Christmas, oh, Christmas!

The bells ring out,

the dinner is served,

old turkey and ham for the trads,

anything that suits for the mods

and Linda McCartney food for the vegs,

it’s the most wonderful time of the year

with those feet a runnin’

as those shops are a closin’

and everyone telling you

‘I was here first’.

 

 

But Christmas, oh, Christmas, really there’s something special

about the period: family, friends and all humanity

coming together to share

a common compassion,

maybe the last Rolo

and a dance to Jingle Bell Rock

but definitely not the last tin

from the 8-pack of Heineken.

 

 

Hope you all enjoyed my poem for Christmas. I wish you and your loved ones a wonderful Christmas time for 2018! 🙂

Poem: Ghosts In The Attic

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The ghosts were residents
in the attic of
Grandma Murray’s house
for years.
Each Halloween she
would go and party
with the ghosts,
knew all their names,
met the new residents
over drinks and toffee apples
each year.

Halloween 2018 arrived
and Grandma Murray
joined the ghosts in the attic
permanently.
She wasn’t nervous when the time came,
her best friend ghost Geraldine held her
fragile, frail bones and helped her
descend from her body
up to the attic.
This year they continue
to dance, drink and be happily spooky
together.
The ghosts in the attic,
friends in death.