madness - poetry by Bill Hannan ...plus more and a new direction

the things I’ve done for you

this is all the thanks I get 

she snarls she cries out she weeps 

you hated mum and now me

we tell ourselves she doesn’t mean it

except maybe somewhere inside she does

perhaps a cup of tea

but she sobs 

rocks about in her chair

and closes down

she is older than us

a kind of aunty

who looked after us as kids

gave us presents

took us for holidays

now she’s mad

I don’t know why

I can’t explain how it struck

we must just wait 

let the hate pass

it’s not real it’s her madness

sometimes she switches to joy

to longing for a perfect world

embracing family and friends

seeing beyond now

to when we love one another

do good to our friends

bless our enemies

but it is a love 

that adds to our sorrow

heartsick or elated

it’s still not her

when she comes back

we’ll keep this sorrow to ourselves

carry on as though

she never went away

and more

perfumes of summer

summer is the season of barbecues

the perfumes of burning meat

the prickling of eyes in the smoke

the chatting round the brazier

the uncovering of the salads

are back to frame our evenings

.....

Editor's Note: Bill Hannan is an old friend. He taught me English and French at Moreland High School (now no longer) in the late 50s and early 60s. He has been writing poetry for just a little while and I have been publishing the poems on the Film Alert blog. But things move on and Bill now has his own website so a transition has begun. This latest poem 'perfumes of summer' has been posted on his website so I have only posted the first verse so that readers might segue across and explore the new site. To read it all you will need to  hit this link