poetry

House for Sale

/ dylanvnolan / 1 Comment

People came every day to view the house

Old threadbare carpets lay underfoot

Furniture belonging to another time

A sofa bed for visitors, always welcome

Soft and warm and well used

 

Sun shone through the open back door

A swing, motionless, hanging from a tree

Toys scattered, covered by the undergrowth

Memories of children’s laughter

Silent for a long time now

 

He wanted their childhood home

To be cherished again

Not “open up this space” or

“Extend up and out” or

“Glass doors to take in the view”

 

It was perfect as it was

Its quirky shape and lived in rooms

The fireplace drawing everyone in

Where songs were sung, stories told,

And everyone laughed a lot

 

A lick of paint, a bright colour here and there

Would put a smile on the old house again

It wouldn’t cost much or take long

The house was solid and grounded

Like the people who once lived there.

 

 

Josephine Nolan

Their World

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Stepping out on her porch in the garden

Drawn by the laughter and cheer

She listened and walked a bit further

Stepping close to the fence, not too near

A stick broke beneath her, she panicked

It cracked like a whip in the air

She held onto the fence, hardly breathing

Didn’t want them to know she was there.

 

A family were seated together

Enjoying the afternoon sun

Their glasses were raised to each other

A birthday or some sort of fun

They laughed and enjoyed one another

So easy and joyful and gay

In a world of their own little bubble

Each one with so much to say

 

Back in her own little parlour

So empty and quiet these years

She thought of her sons and her daughter

Farewells and so many tears

Their phone calls and letters would cheer her

Bring news of the lives that they had

How happy she was they were thriving

They’d never be told she was sad

Daughters

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I don’t remember the tears or sleepless nights

I don’t remember the tiredness

I see fleeting moments of smiling faces

Pretty dresses, ‘what have you done’ thoughts

The years passed so quickly

 

I remember their first trips abroad

I planted a rose called “Patience”

On all their journey’s, I prayed

Saw photos of sun on their faces

Love in their hearts

 

Christmas was our time, our joy

A bonus each year they came home

New Year was theirs, with their friends

They were with me wherever they were

I travel with them in my mind

 

Our numbers are bigger and smaller

A generation apart but together

Time for their own children now

Their loves, their hopes and their dreams

Still my best work, my two daughters.

My Son

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He always sees the best in people

If I get annoyed or feel hard done by

He says “no one has died”

We watch the news together sometimes

I rant about some injustice or politician

He usually has a way of calming me down

Sometimes I think he’s too laid back

 

Now I see him with his baby daughter

She reacts to his tenderness

An immediate smile and gurgle

He has more incentive to better himself

His kindness stretches beyond his family

 

I wish I could win an argument with him

Somehow I’m always on the left foot

We have to agree to differ

I love his outlook and his sensitivity

I love his strength

And I love him

BRAY IS ……..

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Bray is a beautiful pale blue sky, its sunrise shimmering across the water

White cotton wool clouds moving slowly on a summers’ morning

It fills its lungs with freshness, salt air and lingering seaweed

It offers tranquillity, respite from the hustle and bustle of everyday life

 

If it were a car, it would be an old vintage, full of charm and old-world elegance

People would stop to look, admiring its solid beauty, life at a slower pace

But like an old deck chair, worn and faded by the sun, it has seen better days

 

It’s like an old oak tree, rooted deep in history, branches spreading out, pushing out

It’s the big bands and traditions of yesterday, reaching for the trends of today

It has its secrets, past and present, good and bad

Cloaked in coats of bygone glory and present day survival

Josephine Nolan

On My Way in May

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Rushed as usual

The clock stopped at 5.20 am

Lost track of time

We walked together to our writing class

Exchanged news over the week since the last session

The sun was warm

The blue sky promising more to come

Still in winter clothes so it was an effort to walk the hill

Lush green lawns on either side of the road

Rising steadily

Chips

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Chips, hot, soft, crisp edges

Reminder of Brighton Beach when we were teenagers

Sunny, windy, cold and stony

Sunbathing on the beach in our clothes

Refreshed back on the coach after fish and chips

Now reminds me of Bray Beach in Wicklow

Two daughters, five grandchildren

Getting late, everyone hungry

Queue up for bags of chips

Mouth-watering aroma wafting from the Take-a-Way

Salt and vinegar, almost drooling

Chips so hot the children have to blow on them

Shrieks when young William drops his on the sand

Minor disaster

Squalls of seagulls swooping down on the fallen chips

To the roars of delight from the children

As the birds duck and dive for the feast left behind

Josephine Nolan

Our Town

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Once like a diamond on the coast

That people flocked to see,

Smart shops and buildings she could boast,

She showed them off with glee

 

But things were left to slip and slide,

They didn’t feel the breeze,

How could they not have seen the tide

Would bring her to her knees?

 

We love this town, we need it back,

We yearn for things to change,

We need the beauty, not the tack,

To make her shine again

 

We have to fight before she’s lost,

We have to make them see

She’ll loose her spirit – at what cost

To her, to you and me?

 

She’s like a princess in a dream,

Her skirt beneath the shore,

She cannot wait for miracles

Or she will be no more

 

Josephine Nolan