Christy O’Donnell – Two poems

christy o donnellChristy O’Donnell’s first poem was published in Poetry America in the early eighties, following a competition in which he won second prize. His work has also been published in The Mater Hospital (Dublin) Quarterly Magazine, the Blue Hour Magazine Anthology, Anthology for a River and Revival, as well as several other publications.
Christy’s poems reflect his life, his family, his city and the people he has encountered through that journey. He writes with a deep insight into human nature and human frailties. His poems are often humorous, but this humour acts as a counterpoint to the sometimes bleak and tragic themes in his poems.

Bike Duty Truach!

In a well-kept, old cottage by the side of a hill,
She sits there alone and remembers at will,
Her fullness of memory as her life passes by,
Gone she thinks like a blink of her eye,
A marriage so loving and a husband that cared,
Oh! She just longs for the times they both shared.

The happy ones when the kids all appeared,
Even the sad ones some of which she feared,
They’ve made a road now at the end of her lane,
And she watches still but it’s just not the same,
Cars zoom by all day and all night,
Sometimes they crash and she awakes with a fright.

The children ask her to come live with them,
And always she refuses saying it would be a sin,
“Sure isn’t your father just lying in wait down the road?
And when I call to visit him he lightens my load,
I can stroll to the corner and shop in the store,
I’m a simple living woman and I could want for no more.”

And the young ‘fellas’ come to fish in the stream past the dyke?
And each of them asks if I could mind their old bike,
It’s no bother to me as I rarely if ever go out,
And if they get lucky in the stream, then for supper I get trout,
And who’d mind their stuff if I go live in the city,
Your father would be left alone and that would be a pity.

I sit by my door and its half open, half closed,
And I recall all of you as you stood here and posed,
As each of you left to get on with your life,
Your sisters with husbands and you with your wife,
And each of you ask if I will come live with ye,
But where would I sit and who then would I see?

I can tend to my life and see you one and all,
As I look out my door the memories I recall,
This cottage was built by your father on this ground,
Until I’m finished with this life, here I will be found,
In that well-kept, old cottage by the side of that hill,
She kept an eye on our bikes and I remember her still.


Doubting Thomas

Where do you go to my dearest, when you are leaving my bed?
Is your mind thinking the dearest of thoughts deep inside your head?
Was it me that you thought of then, as we made such passionate love?
I thought it was good enough when, you screamed to heaven above!

When I touched you, moved your hair so I could look upon face,
Did you smile at me or glare as you left me in this place?
Now I lay here in this bed, where we just created heat,
Doubt has crept into my head, alone, I feel defeat.

Yet I recall I touched your thigh, you moaned and held me close,
Was that a hurry up sigh, did I not try my utmost?
Was I wrong to ask, ‘was it good’, as we made love all night long?
I guess I never figured, if I was doing it right or wrong!

Was it a tear I saw in your eye, as you left I thought for home?
Is it me that made you cry, is this why I lie here alone?
Am I a doubting Thomas, with a mind that’s so distressed?
That light that shone upon us, made me fail or pass your test?

The bed has since gone cold, in the time that you’ve been gone,
I feel not young but old; to nowhere I belong,
So much time it seems has passed, as in the afterglow I lay,
Will it blossom, can it last, is there something I can say?

Have you left and not to look back, are you gone and lost forever?
Is there something that I lack, will you return to me never?
Is that noise I hear, coming up the stairs?
Could it be all my fears dissipate in tears?

You stand now in the doorway, looking somewhat aglow,
My doubting, what this means, my heart should really know,
To the kitchen for a drink, was where you went just then,
Each time you leave my heart just sinks, for fear you’ll not return again,

Oh, I am a doubting Thomas; I doubt everything I do,
When pressure is upon us, I always look to you,
The bed is nice and warm now, but will she leave again,
Oh I am a doubting Thomas and it really causes pain.


Aside | This entry was posted in News, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.