Today’s choice

Previous poems

Mark McDonnell

 

 

 

First Funeral

Fascinated by the priest’s teeth I don’t realise
I’m kicking the pew in front with a restless foot
until someone taps me sharply on the knee.

I’m near the coffin on its trestles and a plaster Jesus
whose wounds shed drops of hard shiny blood.
I think he looks a bit disappointed in me.

Perhaps he wants me to Be Brave like Him
and not to make things worse for everyone.
I’m not sure if I should cry. I can see

my father is crying and I know that’s
because, He’s lost his soul mate;
that’s what Fr. Stephens told my auntie.

 

 

Mark McDonnell sings, writes and teaches English to refugees.  He used to manage a pharmaceutical company and then a counselling charity.  He has had worked published in a wide variety of journals during the last four years.  See www.instagram.com/mcdonnellpoet5135  and https://www.facebook.com/mark.mcdonnell.9231/

Jenny Hockey

That’s when she went to ground,
after she disobeyed, painted her plastic tea set
red, hidden away in the playhouse they built
down where bindweed draped

Nick Cooke

If when you go to the barber today
He asks if you’d like him to ‘tidy up your ears’,
Think of all the wildest sprawling vegetation
That will never be tidied, or trimmed, by clippers or shears,