Dark days
The wind blows in from the north
a pale blue sun fading away
the park lies idle in a dusky light
the old trees like ghosts in the cold
tinges of orange pickle the cloud
an ice field waiting for snow
homeward voices along the road
the dog slips quietly indoors
the traveller longs to get home
winos huddle beneath the arches
lonely rivers black as ice
the noise of crows in a cellular light
the traffic rumbles through the night
the festive season looms in the distance
inflated hearts plunge neath the moon.

By Imelda Kearney

Cityscapes
Right-angled triangles against the sky
Unfinished trigonometry on an azure page.
Puffed clouds float by, unconcerned.
Do your worst and see if I care
A cheeky lift shaft sprouts above the rest
Challenging us.
The rest will grow this high

The day is filled with hurry
Clank and chant of machines
Men, in hard hats, dwarfed by the structures
they create.
Later, the glassed front catches the last of the
evening red.
Fly past birds are mirrored in its bronze,
As they make for surviving trees.

These nights, a lonesome moon keeps guard,
Shadows everywhere
Incomplete bits jagged like broken teeth.

By Carmel McCarthy

Leaking Tap
Monotonous sounds
clutter my room
as drop after drop
from a leaking tap
chants all night.
Thinking of morning
having to face
a long day, I force
my body to cope:
my head fuzzy
my body drained.

By Mary Guckian

Crocodile Tears
Don’t cry crocodile tears for me,
Now that I’m no longer near,
For all the years I spent here on earth,
I was always there but you weren’t always here.

I cared for you from your cradle days
Through your school and teenage years,
I worried when you stayed out late,
Was always proud to have you near.

But all the care I gave to you,
The love and joy all sincere,
You took all this for granted,
And when in need you turned a deaf ear.

In your adult years I was so proud of you,
I made sure you never wanted,
I put you on a pedestal high,
But again you took all this for granted.

Now my day is done and I’ve passed on,
You can depend on me no more,
And you can’t take things for granted,
As you did so many years before.

The tears you now shed are not tears of grief,
They are as false as false can be,
They trickle down your guilty cheeks,
More for you and not for me,

Now it’s far to late to make amends
For all the things you didn’t do,
If you had only realised,
That I thought the world of you.

You may have never meant to cause me pain,
Now you know that ignorance is bliss,
If you hadn’t taken me for granted,
You would never have felt like this.

So spare your tears they are in vain,
You may be sad now but that’s no surprise,
They are as genuine as crocodile tears
But then, a crocodile never cries.

By Sonny Kinsella

Freedom to me
It’s finding the strength from within my soul
To break free from these chains
It’s peeling away the outer layers
And seeing what remains

It’s getting behind the wheel of a car
Going places on my own
Journeying deep inside
Without playing prisoner to the phone

It’s staying up all night
Without keeping an eye on the time
It’s taking back the childhood gifts
All that’s rightfully mine

Its rock climbing and abseiling
It’s free falling through the sky
It’s getting through the dark days
Without questioning why

It’s recapturing those lost years
When I was young and free
It’s revisiting the one I was
Before this monster came to me

It’s falling in love with someone
Without the fear of what they’ll say
If and when they hear my secret
If it will mean they’ll walk away

It’s not living with a shadow
A burning in your brain
It’s not living with self pity
And why I’m not the same

It’s not hearing nagging voices
About sleep and work and drink
It’s having the chance for independence
It’s having space to think

These are the things that I envisage
The colours that I see
The goals I wish were close at hand
The ones I cannot see

But I am who I am
And though sometimes I’m not free
That’s just fine because
Without it I would not be me.

By Audrey Healy

Silence
Silence can be happiness
Silence can be sad
Silence can be penetrating
Silence can be bad
Silence can cause tension
Silence can drive us mad
Silence can be wonderful
Silence can be unbearable
Silence can be just nice
If two people love silence
It is a great gift
To lighten the noise around us
And bring some peace.

By Mary Guckian

As always, we welcome contributions to
The Poetry Place, which can be sent to the
‘NewsFour’ offices at 15 Fitzwilliam Street,
Ringsend, Dublin 4.