MaeveMaeve Heneghan is a native of County Dublin. After a number of years teaching English in China, Maeve returned to Ireland and is now living in the Midlands with her husband and daughter. She has been writing poetry and short stories for a number of years now and has had some of her work published with First Cut, Verse land, Static Poetry and Every Day Poets.

 

Seventeen

Seventeen,
on the edge,
outside,
looking in.

Seventeen,
always willing,
never picked,
for any team.

Seventeen,
her only kiss,
a pop star,
on a wall.

Seventeen,
almost mature,
slowly
losing control.

The world,
a lonely place,
at seventeen.
********

 
Birdsong

Still so close to heaven,
not yet touching earth,
God’s gentle fingers
stroked your downy cheek,
and you were born.

Sun came upon a life
where before, was only rain.
A seed carried on a new born cry,
rooted the message of life’s purpose.

A misty cloak covers a past once lived,
in its ever changing folds a future
billows out upon the breeze,
no need to hide beneath it, anymore.

Trees that once held barren branches
now full of joyous birdsong,
singing,
you have come!

 
Magic

In a forest
of clambering oak,
a lone Hawthorn stands.

As dawn cloaks the morning,
on soft dainty feet
she threads the moss strewn path,
bathes herself in fairy dew,
eternal beauty, what she craves.

It is within her grasp,
if she believes.