memories
If pictures could a story tell
Within them you would see unfold
All of my heaven and my hell
All that of me be good or bold
Like glimpses through a closing door
Reflections of my life I grasp
And would that I could recall more
As father time slips swiftly past
The picture album in my mind
Its sepia coloured corners raised
Reveals sometimes a man then blind
Lost in a misty turbid haze
They show a boy with smiling face
His young eyes hiding much untold
And tho' of his suffering not a trace
This boy knows much of what is bold
And as I turn my album page
Memory's strum my taut heart strings
For I see emotions love and rage
And all the good and bad life brings
This one brings memories of joy
And this one tells of all my fears
I was fourteen then and still a boy
Adrift upon a sea of tears
This one shows a small girls face
Such beauty to behold so rare
Her smile now sets my heart arace
Her loss alas my cross to bear
This one shows a prison cell
The years condensed in space and time
A young man then in living hell
A love of danger his real crime
This one shows a nomads face
Bathing in a mountain stream
His hair then long with bearded face
Tranquillity then be his dream
This picture shows a man then lost
Its wrinkles hiding drinkers shame
The man stares at me his eyes lost
I stare back and feel his pain
This one I see torn in half
Its memory still so sharp and clear
Her smiling eyes infectious laugh
My sweet Mary still so dear
And as turn the yellowed page
I see the tears I hear the cry's
Of all the ladies I once knew
And of their hurt of all my lies
I rest the book upon the bed
And wipe a teardrop from my eye
For written in my Mothers hand
I read 'you shall ever be my little boy'
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 662 times
Written on 2005-10-25 at 06:05
Tags Sorrow
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Pictures in my mind
If pictures could a story tell
Within them you would see unfold
All of my heaven and my hell
All that of me be good or bold
Like glimpses through a closing door
Reflections of my life I grasp
And would that I could recall more
As father time slips swiftly past
The picture album in my mind
Its sepia coloured corners raised
Reveals sometimes a man then blind
Lost in a misty turbid haze
They show a boy with smiling face
His young eyes hiding much untold
And tho' of his suffering not a trace
This boy knows much of what is bold
And as I turn my album page
Memory's strum my taut heart strings
For I see emotions love and rage
And all the good and bad life brings
This one brings memories of joy
And this one tells of all my fears
I was fourteen then and still a boy
Adrift upon a sea of tears
This one shows a small girls face
Such beauty to behold so rare
Her smile now sets my heart arace
Her loss alas my cross to bear
This one shows a prison cell
The years condensed in space and time
A young man then in living hell
A love of danger his real crime
This one shows a nomads face
Bathing in a mountain stream
His hair then long with bearded face
Tranquillity then be his dream
This picture shows a man then lost
Its wrinkles hiding drinkers shame
The man stares at me his eyes lost
I stare back and feel his pain
This one I see torn in half
Its memory still so sharp and clear
Her smiling eyes infectious laugh
My sweet Mary still so dear
And as turn the yellowed page
I see the tears I hear the cry's
Of all the ladies I once knew
And of their hurt of all my lies
I rest the book upon the bed
And wipe a teardrop from my eye
For written in my Mothers hand
I read 'you shall ever be my little boy'
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
Read 662 times
Written on 2005-10-25 at 06:05
Tags Sorrow
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
