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Niamh

Poetry

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I am here…

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

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When love is not love…

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.

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Night train…

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

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To let go

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

 

 

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Stay with with me

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

 

 

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Untitled…

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

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Mother…

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

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The Politician

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

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Heart Whispers

Your words,

feather light

barely heard

cut deep

and changed my life

 

 

©Niamh Corcoran

 

 

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