“Sarah Bernadette” by Bernard Allon
Sarah Bernadette I love you!
I love you Sarah Bernadette
in the early morning mist
as our world sleeps,
and you and I – alone – praise.
I see your young face in the scattered celandines,
breathe your breath on every wilding flower:
the tripling mountain burn
sings of your innocence, and wild geese
in yonder stone cranny cry at your loss.
Your angel’s song drifts softly
across silhouetted pine trees,
while through each woodland chink
young deer peer.
I sense your presence in this Lady Chapel
sacramented by decades of immeasurable love:
through stained crafted windows
low moon beams
and dawn’s eastern rays
light up your infant figure.
Child remember me.
In the resurrecting dew – welcome me!
Sarah Bernadette I love you.
“The Working Immigrant on the Erie Canal” By Seán Bowman
He stepped off the boat, with a sigh of relief.
Sailed far from the sorrow, said goodbye to the grief.
He’ll send word back home just as soon as he can.
Another victim of dreams, in opportunity’s land.
They were hiring for labour, to help dig a canal.
He’d leave the bustle of NY, and start in a one horse town.
The wage was not great, but promised and steady.
Just step off the dock and sign on when you’re ready.
The days were so long and the foreman was rough.
Regardless how much was done, it was never enough.
The promise of pay grew emptier with time.
Though never short whiskey, he never saw a dime.
The mud that he dug was looking less like a livin’
And more like a hole where his story would be hidden.
The corporates grew fatter as stocks and profits went high,
But your man on the shovel, only working to die.
He arrived a free man, but breathed his last as a beast.
No box, no marker, no letter home at the least.
Don’t ask me his name, cause it’s been long forgotten.
A cold grave and no wage is all that he’s gotten.
But he’s one in a crowd of unfortunate poor souls.
Who traded it all for a piece of fool’s gold.
“Work must go on!” said the corporates, cold as rock.
And more hopefuls signed on, as they stepped off the dock.
“The Dinner Party” by Conor Buckley
The wine was flowing, conversation too,
The friends had gathered for Jean-Claude’s big-do
Angela and Donald,
Like two doting
About his trip to big-Don in D.C.
Emmanuel, the Frenchman had brought the fine wine
To share with his colleagues during dinner they’d dine.
There was Simon from Cork, his chin did rub,
As Jean-Claude explained the rules of this club
When all of a sudden the girl at the end,
Declared; “I’M LEAVING, THIS PARTY SHOULD END…”
All of the guests, Aghast of this plan,
Just shrugged their shoulders, reactions deadpan
,She clears her throat; “I DON’T THINK YOU HEARD RIGHT
I SAID CHEERIO… I’M OFF… GOODNIGHT?”
“THIS IS IT… THIS SOIREE MUST FINISH
I’VE HAD ENOUGH, MY INTEREST, DINISHED
“The guests looked on, for a moment were hushed
But their joy and their spirit, not at all crushed.
“Angela smirked; “
“Leo declared “IT’S RAINING OUTSIDE
BUT THANKS FOR COMING, BEEN ONE HELL OF A RIDE!”
Fifteen minutes later…. ding-dong…….
Is that the door?
“My Best Friend” by Naoise Buckley
My best friend is my dog,
Out for walks every day, he makes me smile when he cuddles up.
Running on the beach care free
We mind each other, he protects me from little dogs and I protect him from big dogs!
But wait that’s not all, I still have more…
I must tell you about how he plays with his ball.
We throw it for him and he brings it back
He runs and runs till its time to hit the sack
At nighttime he curls up in his cosy little bed,
Ready to play again with my best friend Ted.
“Jiggy” by Sam Harrison
Your tiny face always gives me a smile when I see it.
When I stroke your soft silky fur I feel nothing bad will happen.
Your sister Bexsa is also quite soft but never she shall be softer than you.
No one is happier than me when I see you.