Poetry

DAD – Joseph Anthony Gerard Morrissey

Not being there

When I was young

Waiting for visits

That would never come

Going to School

Keeping to myself

Reaching Eighteen

Still not there

Making a life, a career

You must be somewhere

Then, I find you

Not by choice, but by a need

Trying to reconnect

But gone again

Years pass

I have a daughter now

A daughter, I love

 I want to tell you

I phone,

You fly,

You visit

Then out of my life again

Years pass

And I travel to you

Good times we had

Then life returns

Then you visit

I let you stay

Things are good

But it all goes astray

Not talking

Silence between us

No visits,

No contact

My daughter and I

Heard you’re somewhere

I let it pass us by

A call

A bolt from the blue

A hand reaching out

What should I do?

A visit

A fleeting glimpse

Trying to justify why

I should try

Seeing you there

Weak and alone

Wanting to hold you

Not wanting to get close

A Doctor’s words

A nurse’s hug

A mother’s look

A son’s….

Another visit

Is it too late?

Words are exchanged

Is it too late?

Two fathers together

It wasn’t too late

Then you’re gone

How do I feel

Destroyed?

No.

Angry?

No.

Upset?

No.

In love?

Yes.

In Love.

We made our peace.

You are my Dad.

Image


GUARDIAN

For how long have you stood there,

Opposing the forces of nature and men?

Your sleek yet sturdy body,

From somewhere way back then.

Your skin as hard as iron,

And as unyielding as steel.

You have protected thousands,

With your determined will.

Now, after long years of silence,

You begin to weep.

Thinking of yourself forgotten,

My friend, my guardian, my keep.

Image


MORNING SUN

The great bird shuddered,
Her engines spluttering to life.
The men looked at each other,
Thoughts turning to family and wives.

The great bird lifted,
Reaching cruising height.
As the men wondered,
If they would return this night.

The great bird flew,
On towards her enemy.
Below darkening cloud,
Above rolling sea.

The great bird banked,
As explosions shook the night.
The sound of Hell,
With Heaven’s Light.

The great bird soared,
And, with target below,
Her cargo was loosed.
And she turned for home.

The great bird survived,
Carrying seven mothers sons.
Who now stood thankful,
In the early morning sun.

Image


SNOW

Winters evening

Cascading Heavenly vaults

White carpets abound

Image


THE UNFINISHED CITY

On a mighty river, too wide to ford,
A walled town of abundance,
Soon, however, left abandoned.
Hope is brought by commerce and expansion,
With fresh blood, flowing through her veins,
She breathes again.

A Christmas King, builds a Norman tower,
A tower for a city, a capital city.
She grows and expands, moving ever westward,
Westminster, palace of palaces.
A city within a county,
A county within many.

Disaster, as Death of Black kills a third,
Then an inferno, lays waste to the city.
From the ashes, a link is forged with the south;
A bridge, connecting the shores, more secure than ice.
Until the south did burn,
A massacre on the bridge.

Shakespeare, assassins and death; all came to her,
As the darkest plague swept the city.
The population decimated, with no sign of a cure,
Until a fire, the greatest fire,
Burning four days and four nights,
A saviour of the strangest kind.

Rebuilding begins with a masterpiece,
A monument to worship, for all time.
The largest city the world has known,
Too full, for any more?
Destitution and crime, such crime as to wonder,
Could it be stopped by Runners?

With chaos and congestion above,
Work begins beneath.
The Tunnel Rats saving the city,
With steam-powered machines.
And as the world plays in the city,
Her enemies prepare for war.

With peace, at last, the city flourishes.
Like an automaton, she works tirelessly,
Her wealth and industry, helping the Empire.
The cobbled streets, juxtaposed with concrete,
New buildings, overwhelming the old;
The Cathedral is being choked.

But, the peace is soon shattered,
As the sky darkens once again.
The great bell is silenced,
As an easterly wind brings terror.
Doodlebugs and Rockets;
Fire and Brimstone.

Yet, through it all,
Wren’s monument stands,
Defiant amongst the ruins,
A symbol, uniting the city.
As misery turns to joy,
The great bell chimes again.

Soon, she begins to heal,
From the ashes, a stronger city emerging.
But, times are hard,
The city needs help.
New blood, mixes with the city’s own lifeblood,
Eventually becoming one.

With wounds still raw,
The world revisits the city.
A new stadium for a new era,
A festival, a celebration of Britain.
Soon, overshadowed by a soup,
A smog that covers her.

Glorious harmony reigns,
Until Troubles disturb the peace.
Riots and strikes bring fear to the city,
Till a grocer’s daughter leads the way.
The city reaps the benefits,
As the boom-time begins.

From jubilation to fear, in a matter of hours,
Trains and buses, destroyed in an instant.
Is anywhere safe?
But the city responds, defiant in the face of evil.
A show of unity against tyranny,
The third visit of the world; the greatest of games.

And she continues to grow,
Ever expanding, ever-changing.
Ever adapting, but always welcoming.
My city.
The greatest city.
The Unfinished City.

The Unfinished City

The Unfinished City

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