Thursday 21 April 2016

First Poem

I found my first poem in a heap of sheaves allocated to dust. 
I was brought up, like many of you, with no official play areas, so we improvised.
The street was our play-park and incursions into neighbours' back yards our thrill. 
It was also Northern Ireland in the early sixties 
so all that was about to spill onto the same streets 
was beginning to emerge.


Tumbling over the bars
Knickers in the air
Nobody watching

Tennis on the footpath
No nets -no lines
Few rules-just balls
Always landing 
in Mrs Quinn's garden

The delight of foraging 
through Toner's backyard
Rumours extending
like a ripple from the rear
of adults alerted

And rumours of The Boys
Braving the Tricolour
Shouts of freedom
Heading for Coalisland
Followed by silence.

Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016

No comments:

Post a Comment