Dress of Snow
“Dress of snow”
In a snow covered coffin
Her remains were laid to rest
Her god created a snow blanket
For one of his best
She lived a life so pure
Always thinking of others
Now a carpet of snow lay
For the mother of mothers
Not walking on a carpet of red
Her carpet was just right for her
A carpet of pure driven snow
Just as pure as her
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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A Poem in Mime
The poetry is in the mime
It has the perfect metre
Such an immaculate rhyme
There is none greater
All in the movement
Although it’s not on a page
Maybe an improvement
Poetry that doesn’t age
Poetry without a word
What a clever notion
It’s not that absurd
It’s all in the motion
A sign of the times
Not like the old days
Poetry without rhymes
Expressed in different ways
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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The Reverend Paisley
The Reverend Paisley
The reverend Paisley is on the way out
Up to heaven and not to hell
Long chats with dead popes no doubt
The pope's will chat; but he will yell
The pope's will work on him: a religious turn
Then he will change his name from Paisley
Home's in Northern Ireland will burn
When he becomes the reverend Papistley
Perhaps before he goes, he will see the light
Become Northern Ireland's brand new daddy
To London's parliament, he will take our fight
Yelling; give Ireland back to paddy
Michael Micmac Mccrory
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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The Torch carrier
The Torch carrier
I am the person in a million
I am the lucky one
I will carry the torch
I will complete the run
I will run around our town
For all to see the flame
I will carry it high and proud
But not for an Olympian game
I will carry the torch
I will do the run
I will protect the flame
Because you are the one
The flame of the torch
Burns only for you
The woman I adore
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Reincarnation
‘REINCARNATION’
A twinkle in his eyes
Catches her eyes
Their eyes love-locked
They speak their first words to each other
The first real date
The courting game
The gelling together, becoming real mates
They announce their engagement
Settle on a wedding date
The pre-nuptial plans
At last, the wedding day
A nice honeymoon suite
From sperm to baby
The baby is a boy
From boy to man
From a man to dust
The wind blows the dust into another man’s eyes
From dust to a twinkle
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Mother in-law
I saw your mother
Today in Trafalgar Square
She was wearing a nice bonnet
The pigeons shit on it
They didn’t care
I didn’t tell her
Cos I didn’t care
With a silly grin
I just stood there
Then the pigeons shit again
This time on my hair
I saw your mother
Just standing there
With an enormous silly grin
Serves me right
For marrying her daughter
That’s it
I’ve taken all the shit
I am ever going to take
So it’s goodbye to your mother
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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In the name of art
‘In the name of Art’
Her legs are close together
Only two feet apart
On the bed she lay naked
The painter called it art
The photographer took a picture
Had to capture the image
Her father saw it in the papers
It made the whole family grimace
The world has seen her body
As when she was born
Everything on show
Her family forlorn
Every time the family see the picture
They rip it up and remember
She was their little baby
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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A sonnet for lovers
‘A sonnet for lovers’
(‘Dedicated to the one I love’)
It’s the simple things
The simple things you do
Not just the simple things
It’s the complicated things too
The simple act of holding my hand
The simple morning cup of tea
Listening to my favourite band
The complicated act of listening to me
You make it simple to love you
As simple as can be
You make the complicated act simple too
The completed act of loving me
One thing that’s not that complicated
As a matter of fact it’s simple
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Together we shall overcome
‘Together we shall overcome’
‘Poetry for the Deaf’
Eh! What
What Eh!
What did you say?
‘Poetry for the Blind’
It’s called Performance poetry
It’s loud; so real
It’s written down
But only in Braille
‘Poetry for the Dumb’
For their eyes only
Read only
Poetry for the Deaf, Blind and Dumb
We will work it out between us
Please don’t make it:
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Forever in Boots
Swimming costume, bib and tucker
Stonewashed jeans or three-piece suits
Never going to be, a tidy looker
I am the man, forever in boots
Funerals, parties or weddings
Working days or evening pursuits
Planting flowers in their beddings
I am the man, forever in boots
I want to be forever in boots
I wear boots on land or sea
I can be a miserable old coot
If you hide my boots from me
In the ring wearing boxing boots
On a horse in my riding boots
At the riverside in Wellington boots
Happy to be the man, forever in boots
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poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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