I posted some of my poetry on Facebook yesterday and got a terrific response. I thought you might like to share some on the way to work and maybe it will give you a spring in your step. I met a young man on the train on Monday. He was just out of jail, covered in self harm scars and obvious learning difficulties. I gave him my number and made him promise to call me yesterday and I’d meet him for coffee. Went out with a dear friend for the day and accidentally put my phone on silent. Missed his call and there was no return number. He’ll be homeless today and there is nothing I can do. Maybe there is nothing that can be done for this young man anyway. He’s been in the system since twelve. Why hasn’t he been fixed? I learned this guys life history in a twelve minute train ride. If I can find out so much in such a short period of time and make the effort, at least, to do something; why is this boy inside a man homeless within two days of release and when will he be back in prison. Felt like crap all day, after finding I’d missed this call. It’s all mad and I’ve got a million things going on in my own wee world. Making rational and responsible decisons has become a bit of a nightmare as responsibility/identity is removed upon entering the duty of care of the system. Prison is a place to remove people to. It does not fix. It harms. No matter how you dress it up. How can you call punishment, revenge and hate care? My poems cheer me up. I hope they work for you. Please leave comments.
The Power of the Pen
By Michael Irwin 2011
Pummel me, pummel me You’ll leave yourself broken, You can try if you like,My pain just a token.
I know you don’t mean it, Your words so terse, Swatting your insult, Me calling a hearse.
Year after year I’ve flitted about, Never stopped wondering, The cause of my doubt.
To know you, to know you – Ah – that comes at price, The shrinks give you answers, But they’re never concise.
Yet time after time The final goodbye, Over and over, Give in and lie.
My life, my life How it is changed, Living with silence, No longer deranged.
False hopes, false highs, Have been so many, I pick out the best ones, The truth hardly any.
So quiet so quiet The tunes in my head, Moments of hope, Not wishing to be dead
At last at last Conversation an ease, Nearly two hours, Crackin the breeze.
Distance the distance In mind and body, Stick an stone, No more folly.
Feelings these feelings, Clearer more true, Fate – Love decided, Through and through
I hope I hope Will make you wonder, Is this about me, Or some other blunder.
Wonder a wonder, Sense of relief, Tell me a story Joker or Thief.
Enjoy oh enjoy The power of the pen, A beautiful thing, To make better again.
A Mountain’s Smile
By Michael Irwin
Hello darkness my old friend, not today at old worlds end. Misty morning mountains of different hue stick to my skin like sweetly dew. Is there a difference tween me and you, never doubted it, who’d have knew.
Chapel bell rings like anonymous knell, my mood is lifted by a nod from Tel. The Mournes a back drop to Sadashrin Kriya, breeze stirs my soul my my core me being, out of tune in singing but in harmony with birds and grass n cows. Sure there’s ancient rock containing the flock, but I’m free, no more walls around me to sit and mock. Passing people of the Mournes nod n wave and smile. The smile of country folk so lost in the city, oh my isn’t it a pity. This inner smile we should share to they who dare, in the meantime ill sit in silence, smile at the valley, here and here just over there with a loving stare, now how can you tell me you don’t really care.