David Noonan

David Noonan Oct 2017

sister

our mothers tears fill a hospital ward
as a doctor summons the Chaplins call
last rites administer to this tiny newborn
thrice in five days you're destined to fall
born with a hole in such a delicate heart
yet no doctor nor cleric could recognise
this was to allow the world seep through
a shining eighth wonder of pale blue eyes
held on the sill outside a neonatal room
i saw with my soul a love birthed anew
dad he promised that you'd be home soon
there to the years of childhood we grew

the time had come for mam to say to me
sister was different in other ways as well
not for you was destined a desk at school
nor books would you read nor stories tell
innocence of the pure and purity of truth
special she said born of down syndrome
and yet would i never once see you down
for your smiles to me evoke only wisdom
now as you pass over your fortieth year
my sister i cherish all that we hold dear
for you are a family's jewel in it's crown
raising a world from love handed down

for my sister Siobhan, a shining eighth wonder of pale blue eyes

David Noonan Aug 2017

Sorrows Last Goodbye

Welcome Sorrow
no need to seek forgiveness
for not knowing me by name
i've waited long and lonely
to feel the touch
of such desolate company
tell me then
are you here to show me
all of my tomorrows
reflected in a deep pool
of tears from yesteryears
show me that i can be a lover
but can never be loved
show me that i'll still be here
but never will i belong
that these are not my people
these are talents
to which i'll never possess
so stop whispering
stop whispering
come closer my friend
show me that nothing exists
over those grey foreboding hills
show me that nothing survives
at the end of a fractured rainbow
show me that the rivers and oceans
are but a flow of tiny tears
show me that all the dawns and the dusk
of this world to you belong
show me that the only peace to be found
is in a black dogs stare
come now my confidante
wrap me in your arms
so tightly once more
let me see through your eyes
feel through your veins
speak through your wisdom
emasculate in your reign
but go now my lover
my temptress go
place these words so delicately
on your parched and wretched tongue
from a kiss
to a whisper
to a shattering scream
that this is my goodbye
this is my goodbye
that this is to be
Your final Goodbye

David Noonan Aug 2017

ancient love

our love i feel is an ancient love
from a smaller world of greater ideal
a love so touched by the stars above
never to fall so as to become so real

our love i feel is an ancient love
an unspoken word of a long lost tongue
flies on the wing of an immortalised dove
to transcribe in dreams and nightly song

yet this night is upon, this night is cold
and sleep she refuses my welcome plea
this ancient love a story no longer told
white winged doves carry my angel free
now what is left, what is there of me
bereft of meaning, vanquished by decree
yet i will treasure each harbored memory
consigned to sail our love through history

David Noonan Aug 2017

jukebox country song

the weeping that makes me half a man
the rage that divides me greater still
are these the created or the original sin
that leads me down to the drunkards well
there it was that i had found you again
your hair changed, your dress less pretty
life lived through a jukebox country song
that preached no rights or saw no wrong

our greatest hour the one so fast to pass
leaving moments of perpetual memory
seeks a home for a weary vagabond soul
left grasping a belief for something more
full of regrets sustaining broken promises
time waits for no one and no one for us
Sunday comes down, the night still young
dance with me now jukebox country song

David Noonan Aug 2017

anonymous

the weeks stretched out to months
on a whispers gentle breeze
he hadn't been seen at Tuesday's mart
nor the public house for an evening's 45
most had blamed the drink driving laws
the cosmopolitan killing of simple ways
yet the rusted gate, the untended fields
told another story not so easy to regale*

for hearts can break in so many ways
to devastating effect or slow debilitating decay
now sitting and staring by my window chair
this television set pleads for repeal of the eighth
unknowing that what is gone can never be
i reach within myself to find next to nothing there
for my mind now fails the memories of yesteryear
no longer can i recall what Kathleen wore that day
setting sail to end one life so as to start anew
how i feared in truth that she would never return
like those letters i sent shrouded in uneasy pen
lost to the shame of the times as that were then
today, i'm the old man from an older boreen still
facing this death that relieves me of all my pain
my story, my dreams, my life i shall no longer recall
for my stage is set and the curtain it slowly does fall
where i will become so anonymous to even myself
perhaps only when all memory is lost shall i see
golden dreams to return my sweet Kathleen to me

Irish-ism's as follows:

Mart - farmers cattle market

45 - s a trick-taking card game popularly played in rural pubs

repeal the 8th - The Eighth Amendment of the Constitution of Ireland gave explicit recognition to the right to life of an unborn child, effectively introducing a constitutional ban on abortion in Ireland. A concerted campaign to have it repealed has led to the announcement of a referendum on abortion in Ireland during 2018. Historically women traveled by sea to England to avail of services there.

boreen - A narrow, frequently unpaved, rural road in Ireland. Generally, not leading to anywhere but a few old farmhouses or small dwellings