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Martin Mcareavey Poem
A Son's Tribute (spoken at my Dad's Funeral)
A quiet man,
A family man,
A proud to be a father man.
A handy man,
A lively man,
Not known to be a dandy man.
A humble man,
Clear thinking man,
A need to know what's what man.
A warm man,
An organized man,
A man who had a plan, man.
A sailing man,
A camping man,
I'll do it as I said I would man.
A fair man,
An I'll be there man,
I'll help you if I can man.
A deep man,
A neat man,
A standards keep us straight man.
A thinking man,
Light drinking man,
I have responsibilities man.
A technical man,
Get things done man,
A lovely to see him smile man.
A husband man,
Love my family man,
I'll be there when it matters man.
A brother man,
An Uncle man,
A wonderful Grandad all these years man.
A Blackburn man,
A Lancashire man,
Without a northern accent man.
A Rovers fan,
Real football man,
Legendary goalie in his time man.
A gentle man,
A driving man,
Keep going till we get there man.
A homely man,
Come on in, kind of man,
And now, in our hearts and minds man.
A lovely man,
A loving man,
I'd like to go on, but I don't think I can...
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
For Maeve… Bloom!
Bloom!
More perfect than an Angel, so you captivate the room.
Light!
Your smile a thousand fireworks to see me through each night..
Sun!
You know the power to burn is there but the danger is such fun!
Moon!
So cool and soft as moonbeams, your lips I hope to capture - soon!
Stars!
The instant I first saw you I just knew how good we are...
Dawn!
As you wake each day all sleepy, keep me there & keep us warm!
Leaf!
Every day a new adventure, with some new love lines - good grief!
Bloom!
More perfect than forever - let forever start please, soon!!!
Mxx
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
For Maeve... ‘Moth’ !
I am but a moth,
Beguiled by the light:
Your radiance a beacon
for attention: Now, I might
be speaking out of turn;
These words may sound undue.
But I thank you for the Brilliance
that shines from inside You!
So, I am but a moth
(No butterfly panache)
who just wants to fly so close
for his wings and yours to clash.
Though I’d never fly away
for your light is what I seek,
and the thought of seeing you
gives true purpose for my week.
If I was but a moth –
I’d flit from place to place,
charmed often by the light
shining from a pretty face..
But I’d rather be a Bee
with a sense of purpose true,
whose favourite flower each day
is the heart I come home to..
Martin x
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
The Tuna and the Prawn
Swam together -
- Now in sandwich form!
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
Cats
Patiently, cats eyed, alert and poised for action;
More than ready to eat, not greet, or fuss affectionately,
'She’busies herself with the important work
of savaging your rucksack straps;
‘He’, inspecting cupboards and wincing at draughts,
looks on, anticipating some small attention –
Yet once given, a disdainful shrug soon sees that off..
Playfully dangerous, exuding feline charm and allure
Each personality formed by the pursuits of Maslow.
Feed me, water me, toilet me, feed me, pay attention. Love?
All day they sleep like furry mobile book-ends.
By evening, demonic playtime will often ensue;
Manic theatrical leaps and pseudo-violent endeavour
to be replaced in an instant at the sound of an impending snack.
Purrfectly adorable, yet lethally ‘talonted’
Small facsimiles of eviscerative power
our stripy smiling assassins lie innocuous and still;
Their telepathic alertness, switching from deepest sleep
to instantaneous and righteous indignation at a sound:
Snap To!! Reminding us that, whilst we care,
our feline guests are but one mouthful from feral animosity..
They purr, not to say “Hello” or “Thank you for your kindness!”
but because they can. These sybaritic existentialists -
refugees of other worldliness, extensions of the moon,
replete with chirrups, meows, and other audio trickery.
Besides, if we knew we truly gave them pleasure
Then all power would evaporate and our love affair
With warm things bright and beautiful, would end!
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
UNSUPPORTED CODE I(The ancient lines of raised potato plantations are visible from the roads in the hills above Oughterard in County Galway, Eire - this poem laments the long ago disappearance of those whose paradise and playground this once was) UNSUPPORTED CODE
Far away, a furrowed field
reminds us, you and me,
of ancient toil and lives lived out
and days we’ll never see.
Where sweat and toil were offerings,
where lifetimes came and went
without the need for anything
but soil, and rain, God sent.
Where each and every line of green
(still visible to this day)
reminds us of the long lost world
where ancestors once lay.
We see their paths, these rocks -their homes -
feel spirits long since drawn
away from Mother Earth’s embrace,
where lives were etched upon
this fertile land of mystery,
this perfect place of peace
this wonderful complexity
of ‘Shanafastaoiste’
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Mcareavey Poem
MY LAST HOUR WITH MY FATHER...
With small hints and gestures
Familiar and known,
The seeds of your exit were carefully sown.
Requesting I shave you, that personal contact
A handshake, some laughter, gentle acceptance.
Relaxed and ready, you're all you are - Alive!
Full of reminiscence of a life, a path
that led to other paths and road, and views.
You did your best, now dressed
and looking forward, over the edge.
You won't admit to feeling scared;
This road, it ends for all
Which makes a last goodbye unkempt
As you reach out for the sky..
Goodnight and God Bless. My Daddy x
Copyright © Martin Mcareavey | Year Posted 2017
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