I hear the music
not with my ears
but through
the soles of my feet
I feel the earth beat
as it changes with time
each season a movement
my life a symphony
I am the second violin
to your first,
together we move
in tune
in sync
We wait for the orchestra
to join in
to become one body
of song
we can heal
the world
if we can all play
the same notes
© Niamh Corcoran 9/11/2012
if luck were sandy beach
would you take just a grain,
or a bucketful?
build a castle to share
or a moat to keep
others and the sea at bay
if luck were a lawn
would you take just a blade
or a handful?
let it grow tall and free
or mow it
so others could have less
if luck were stars in the sky
would you take a small one,
or perhaps the sun?
put it in a window to
to light the way
or hide it
so others live in the dark.
I can no longer hold you
or speak to you,
comfort you in your sorrow
but I am here.
I can no longer reach out a hand
to wipe away your tears,
assuage your fears,
but I am here.
In the warm sun on your back
in the gentle breeze
that carries your worries away
I am here.
In the soothing purr of a cat
the whisper of butterfly wings
the scent of a rose
I am here.
In the moon and the stars
that light up the night sky
I am never far from you.
I am here.
Though you cannot see me,
or touch me,
say my name silently or aloud
I am here.
©Niamh Hill
I am watching you
and everything you do
keeping careful note
of the way you move,
the clothes you wear
the way you do your hair
which colours you favour
the foods you choose
pretending I love you
that I’m in awe of you
you lap up each compliment
growing more trusting
and vulnerable with
every passing day
unaware that I am building
an ammunition store
I’ll use your trust and secrets
to diminish you, crush you
for I fear you, your strength,
generosity and ability to love
and that which scares me
must be destroyed.
crashing through my brain,
never stops,
round the clock,
always on the move.
Casual passengers
fight for space,
worries and fears
compete for seats,
Each breath seems
to shout out
all aboard, all aboard,
come keep me awake.
The night and dark,
welcomes each new thought.
Images flit and flee,
never staying within grasp.
Encouraging a chase,
to understand, to see
what they mean.
Only the dawning sun,
and beeping alarm,
see them on their way,
these night-time passengers
in the dark will stay.
crashing through my brain,
never stops,
round the clock,
always on the move.
Casual passengers
fight for space,
worries and fears
compete for seats,
Each breath seems
to shout out
all aboard, all aboard,
come keep me awake.
The night and dark,
welcomes each new thought.
Images flit and flee,
never staying within grasp.
Encouraging a chase,
to understand, to see
what they mean.
Only the dawning sun,
and beeping alarm,
see them on their way,
these night-time passengers
in the dark will stay.
©Niamh Corcoran 25/11/2011
the darkness beckons,
threatens to consume me,
the gossamer thread that
holds me here stretched
to its limits.
the future a flickering
pinprick,
there is comfort in the dark
an ease, a knowing, an ending,
today I may slip into
into its waiting arms
sever the links
to a life too hard
©Niamh Corcoran
Stay and hold me
so I can feel
your breath
cool on my cheek
your heartbeat
close to mine
the steadiness
of your feet
on the earth
if you let me go
or take your eyes
off me for a second
I am afraid
the wind of life
will seize me
in a frenzied whirl
and I may never
find my way home.
©Niamh Corcoran
When I look in your eyes
and our bodies meld
to become one
I know I shall never
really be alone
in those fleeting moments
my mind quieted
skin tingling
as if I’d stood in cold rain
breath ragged
hair awry
the sight of you
the feel and smell of you
will soon be a distant memory
but even without you
I know
I am whole, complete
always at one with the world
at my feet.
©Niamh Corcoran
Today, I curl up
in a ball and cry,
for my children
slowly destroying me
with pollution, plastic
and pesticides
they cut forests
and burn grasslands
chase the animals,
they have not
hunted and killed,
from their homes
yet I continue to
feed them, provide
water and shelter
air to breathe
in the hope that
they will learn
to value
my magnificence
On silver wings of desperation
she flees,
the knife in her hand drips
a Hansel and Gretel trail
that any ordinary man could find
the unicorn dips his head
as she passes
he has no wish to bear
witness to the crime
what he does not see…
the fairies in the glade
following her
flit from tree to tree
their incessant chatter
like birdsong
cover her footsteps
so none hear her pass
complicit in death
as in life they claim
to value freedom.
©Niamh Corcoran
