Tuesday 13 December 2016

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

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