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

To Homemakers/ Writers
I’d like to be ‘a Mary’
But I can’t afford the time
I have to be ‘a Martha’
Put washed linen on the line

I’d like to sit and wonder
At the beauty of the world
But the table needs a setting
And the meat is getting cold

To stand and stare is good
Look nature in the eye
But it will not peel potatoes
Or make an apple pie

So I’ll settle down to clear this mess
And keep the bugs at bay
But I’d rather be ‘a Mary’
And write the livelong day.
By Carmel McCarthy

Don’t know who I am
Can’t escape from you
Can’t get you out of my head
Can’t erase the things you did
Can’t erase the things you said

Can’t leave you and walk away
Can’t get you out of my mind
No matter how far I run
No salvation can I find

Can’t get you out of my life
Can’t get you out of my heart
Can’t tear your eyes away from mine
Even though we’re far apart

Your ashtray still sits on my chair
Your clothes sit in the hall
Your scent fills the bedroom air
As though you never left at all

Your name and number haunt me
As they come up on the phone
My mind it is in turmoil
I don’t wanna be alone

But you’re no good for me this time
Your mind is too confused
You leave me feeling loved one night
Then lonely and so used

I don’t know who I am
When I’m in your arms
I don’t know who I am
When I succumb to your sweet charms

Tonight I think I’ll sleep alone
Though my thoughts still turn to you
Still I know I’m hoping
That you’re thinking of me too
By Audrey Healy

We do belong
They were right when they said hold on
To those ripples of electricity inside
They were right when they say just wipe aside
The thousands of tears you’ve cried

They were right to say be courageous,
Be firm, stand tall, be strong
They were right to say this ain’t the end
The were right to say go on

How could I have doubted you
Just because you did not call
How could I have dreamt of you
When you were here all along

Your face embedded in my pillow
Our bodies entwined in the night
Your hair falling loosely upon my shoulders
Your eyes meeting mine in the light

Our fingers clasped together
Me melting in your embrace
And finally, when it’s all over
We stare into one another’s face

They were right now I know it
As the radio plays our song
They were right I know as I take your hand
They were right, we do belong
By Audrey Healy

The following poems by Niall Hughes, are taken from his collected poems ‘At First Light’, published recently a year after his untimely death at 47 years on St. Brigid’s Day, 1st Feb, 2007. The first was written on one of his many travels, and the second was written thirty years ago in 1977.

Artist, poet, community arts organiser, film-maker and environmentalist: the late Niall Hughes is remembered with affection by his family from Moate in Co. Westmeath, and his sister Emer Hughes who has put together his poetry with autobiographical notes.

If anyone wants to buy the book by post please text or call on 086 803 5579. The book costs €15 and because much of Niall’s time, energy and work focused on homeless people in Galway, all proceeds from ‘At First Light’ will be donated to the Simon Community and Focus Ireland.

Football
I sit at my outdoor breakfast table
as the morning darkness unfolds.

An ancient man on crutches
is grateful when I press a coin into his hand.

Not turning toward me, he stops, and prays out loud,
to the air, to Allah, then kisses his hand with the coin.

We both thank God, I guess.
A child limps by, stops, looks at me, pleading.

I take out a coin and flick it to him from my seat.
I am not proud of this kind of giving.

The coin hits his head and bounces to the ground.
I groan, but am rewarded by his sudden dazzling smile

As he stands up and shows me the coin.
He points to his head.

‘Football!’ I say.
He nods brightly, and, still smiling, limps away.

On Leaving Galway
Weeping over the roots of trees
I feel the ‘rightness’ of all things

Gathering apple blossoms to my face
I remember my first young love

Crows are cawing distractedly
Strutting like ragged obscene gentlemen

The wind moves, leaves of trees
throwing light like water on the road

Leaving all this expanse of sea and rock
I’m flying now to you, my first love

Going to gather you in bunches to me
and feel your kisses strewn all around

Sweet mother: gentle father
Unmoving centres– guide my course