Category Archives: Short Stories

Can You Hear: By Pheme Glass

Can you hear the drumming?
Fast drumming
Marching music

Can you hear that Celidh band?
Feet tapping
Dancing music

Can you hear that?
Marching and dancing
Down the street
Toa single beat

The sun is shining
And St Patrick is smiling

This poem by Pheme Glass , Omagh,  was first published in  Shared Space A collection of Poetry 2012

I found this wee ‘creed’  in the chapel newssheet and thought it made a lot of sense. Now all I have to do it try and live by it. It ‘s my goal for 2019. I will take a line here and there from it and do my best. I’m starting with the last line. Pick a line and have a go – nothing ventured nothing gained – as they say.

What image do you think might fit the individual lines?

Here’s the image I picked for my line – hope you like it – add your own and say why. Enjoy

A Creed to live by in 2019 –

A Creed to live by in 2019
Don’t undermine your worth by comparing yourself to others;
it is because we are different that each of us is special.
Don’t set your goals by what other people deem important;
only you know what is best for you.
Don’t take for granted the people and things closest to your heart;
cling to them as you would your life,
for without them life is meaningless.
Don’t let your life slip through your fingers
by living in the past, or for the future;
by living your life one day at a time, you live all the days of your life.
Don’t give up when you still have something to give;
nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.
Don’t be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect;
it is this fragile thread that binds us to each other.
Don’t be afraid to encounter risks;
it is by taking chances that we learn to be brave.
Don’t shut love out of your life by saying it’s impossible to find;
the quickest way to receive love is to give love;
the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly;
and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
Don’t dismiss your dreams;
to be without dreams is to be without hope;
to be without hope is to be without purpose.
Don’t run through life so fast that you forget
not only where you’ve been, but also where you’re going.
Life is not a race, but a journey to be savoured each step of the way.

Why Me?

I looked at a little angel that had faded with the light of many Christmas mornings. Her pink dress now turned white; her little halo without its glow.

Life on the window sill had taken its toll. And while all the other little angels were folded carefully into tissue paper and looked forward to another Christmas she was felt alone on the sill faded and jaded.

Faded Angel

My wings like arms hang limply

No shimmer to be seen

Why me?

I ask repeatedly

Why me?

Life’s breath’s ebbing away

Why me?

To some

My life’s work may seem done

But not to me not to me

My grandchildren…precious every one

Why me

I have more fading to do

Why me

GC Hill 2019 ©

The Homeless One

C     Christ Child is born. Waited on for centuries yet no room at the Inn

H     Holy night stars shine into homeless shelters, Could be 2018

R     Rushing traffic, charging shoppers soon the stores they will be shutting

 I     Irate pedestrians – no taxi waiting –no magic carpet at their bidding

S     Sweet sounds of choiring fills the skies –a King is born – no one notices

T    Three Wise Men follow the Star:  Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

M    Mountains crowd in to see this wondrous child Saviour of the World

A    Alas, the World judged the Stable Birth – not a place a king would be born

S     Sadly the Prophesied One humbled to Mary, Joseph son.

GC Hill 2018 ©

Where’s my biscuits I want to shout

Food laid out in rows and rows

People heaping plates with culinary delights

faces round me all a glow

Merry making smiles and nods

Where’s my biscuits I want to shout

I don’t give a monkeys ass

For curry no matter how nice

Or salmon served in glowing splendour

I want my biscuits I want to shout

Im salivating at the thought of

Chocolate covered finger sticks

Oh god the taste on my tongue!

I.m feeling lightheaded

My sugar fix is badly needed

Jammy Dodgers in crunchy circles

Or traddy good old custard creams

My granny’s favourite

Oh what I’d give to have the gaul

To dare to stand and stamp my foot

Bawl at full throttle bang on the table

I want my biscuits

I want them now!

Not in bloody half a day

When this greedy famished shower

Stop chatting with their mouths full

And politely request biscuits and coffee

To finish off a lovely meal

I want my biscuits

I can’t stand it any longer

The chef and me are about to get matey

And when he gives me that cold hard stare as I push past the

Note pinned to the door

That says only staff may enter here. I will

Look him in the eye and bawl louder still

I want my biscuits my man

I want them now!

Or else I will have to shoot you dead

And get the bloody things myself

Double Jobbing

 image credit Sean Crawford photography Sion Mill N Ireland

Limbs chopped drop stretch out

Lie ragged

Once full of life’s sap they

Now recline

One branch upon another

Rotting on earth’s soil

Separated from the vine

Secondary now

 Lifeless fodder

Recycled for the fire

GC Hill©2018

The Stinging nettle

Oh beastly nettle sting

Hiding in the hedgerows

With your angelic smile

Your Heart shaped leaves

Reach out

Cling

And needle like inflict pain

On unsuspecting passers-by

Oh you wicked thing

Dock plant is my friend

Soothing burning itchy rashy skin

Swallows up my tears

You feel no shame

And dare to show your face again

Come summer time

You wicked wicked  thing

G C Hill 2018 ©

Travelling to meet my past

image  credit Ann Mc Aneny blog

My fingers nimbly travel from the green of the
Emerald Isle
To far flung places all over the world
To meet my ancestors face to face
On the written page
Some draw back when they feel the tap of time
Some smile
And some say “Ach, will you go away!
You’re there tapping on that contraption
Night and day night n day
And then you go to bed to dream
Imagining what life was like for me
In the dark dark days
When famine stalked the land
And poverty drove us over the seas
To seek a fairer land
Ach, sure I suppose it’s only natural
To find from whence ye came
And it’s nice to be remember
Even if some things are best left untouched
And I know it’s not the thing today
But dare I say my friend
As you tap, tap at your keyboard
Still your hand
And say, a prayer for me when you’re
Lookin’ at –
My birth date. My death place, my name
And wondering how am I related to you
Granda? Granny? Many times removed?
Or just someone with the same last name as you

| Donegal Poem |

Hope Stick image Deele River nearcomvoy credit internet

I drop a stick down from the bridge

Into the waters far below

It carries my hopes with it

To see how far my stick will go

I am hoping it will travel far

And bounce upon the eddies

Missing all those obstacles

Going straight and fast and steady

I hope the bends to navigate

In the middle of the flow

To get caught by vegetation

Means there’s nowhere left to go

My stick has now bobbed out of sight

In the sunlight’s bright reflection

I hope to see it soon again

Still going in the right direction

Not all my hopes on this stick rest

Because that would be silly

I have another in my hand

To throw into the Swilly     

(Swilly is a river in Donegal  Ireland)

Copyright © Robert Andrew Lyle | Year Posted 2014