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"higgins" poems
PARNELL'S FUNERAL UNDER the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd. A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown About the sky; where that is clear of cloud Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down; What shudders run through all that animal blood? What is this sacrifice? Can someone there Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star? Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through, A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow; A woman, and an arrow on a string; A pierced boy, image of a star laid low. That woman, the Great Mother imaging, Cut out his heart. Some master of design Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin. An age is the reversal of an age: When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone, We lived like men that watch a painted stage. What matter for the scene, the scene once gone: It had not touched our lives. But popular rage, Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down. None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart. Come, fix upon me that accusing eye. I thirst for accusation. All that was sung. All that was said in Ireland is a lie Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng, Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die. Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong To this bare soul, let all men judge that can Whether it be an animal or a man. The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay. Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day. No civil rancour torn the land apart. Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's Imagination had been satisfied, Or lacking that, government in such hands. O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died. Had even O'Duffy -- but I name no more -- Their school a crowd, his master solitude; Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
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From A Full Moon In March
PARNELL'S FUNERAL UNDER the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd. A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown About the sky; where that is clear of cloud Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down; What shudders run through all that animal blood? What is this sacrifice? Can someone there Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star? Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through, A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow; A woman, and an arrow on a string; A pierced boy, image of a star laid low. That woman, the Great Mother imaging, Cut out his heart. Some master of design Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin. An age is the reversal of an age: When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone, We lived like men that watch a painted stage. What matter for the scene, the scene once gone: It had not touched our lives. But popular rage, Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down. None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart. Come, fix upon me that accusing eye. I thirst for accusation. All that was sung. All that was said in Ireland is a lie Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng, Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die. Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong To this bare soul, let all men judge that can Whether it be an animal or a man. The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay. Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day. No civil rancour torn the land apart. Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's Imagination had been satisfied, Or lacking that, government in such hands. O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died. Had even O'Duffy -- but I name no more -- Their school a crowd, his master solitude; Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
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44
Shutting down, My immune system fails, Vulnerable to the germs that breed about the town, One mistake, Protection wasn’t used, Vulnerable to the taunts that make my soft heart break. Although my heart is broken, Words only cut so deep, I know that I am human, Even as I drift to endless sleep. For advice and help – please contact any of the organisations below: Terrence Higgins Trust Web: www.tht.org.uk Helpline: 0845 1221 200 Offers free and confidential services for people with *** Positively Women Web: www.positivelywomen.org.uk Helpline: 020 7713 0222 (staffed by *** positive women: Mon-Fri 10am-4pm) Aidsmap Web: www.aidsmap.com Information, news and resources for people with *** and AIDS. I dedicate this poem to all those who are suffering from HIV/AIDS, those the world has loved and lost through HIV/AIDS and to all of those affected by HIV/AIDS.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 6:26 AM UTC
AIDS
Amanda was a Panda She was a lovely lass, Although she had two big black eyes, She retained an air of class. She ambled into the Bamboo Bar To have lunch with Panda Pete one day, And he looked into her eyes And to her he did say. "Oh Amanda with your big black eyes Will you please be forever mine, And promise that you will never Let your panda arms entwine, Any other bloke panda In this bamboo land, Please oh please Amanda, You've got to understand For me there is no other You're the only girl for me, You remind me of my mother, And so we're meant to be, Together as a couple we'll be With our four eyes of black, Oh darling please look at me Why have you turned your back?" She answered very clearly She said "because Pete I'd rather, Find another Panda really, To be my childrens father." Now Panda Pete was really sad He felt total and utter rejection, So he sloped off before he got mad, To a future of dejection. He slunk out of the Bamboo Bar,. Back into the forest outside And jumped into his panda car And took off for a long lonesome ride. Tom Higgins 07/05/2014
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
Amanda the Panda.
Above the beaches of Normandy In ordered rows they lie. They came to fight for freedom, And for that many had to die. They also lie in rows in Libya, In Italy and Greece The soldiers of democracy Who died fighting for the release Of millions locked in a tyranny Oppressed by an evil mind They died so that enlightenment Could guide the future of mankind. And in the East many more Monuments stand in memory Of the many millions of bravehearts Who died in the fight to be, Rid of the monstrous evil gang And their racist and murderous ideaology, Which planned genocide for these people In order to steal their whole country. And here we are almost seventy years Since the end of that terrible war Looking at election results which ask What was all that dying for? People in free democracies purchased With those millions of victims blood Have voted for the same ideaology That will trample in the mud All the freedoms for which they fought And for which they gave their lives It is as if history has never been taught And that sheer ignorance above all else,thrives. Tom Higgins 27/05/2014
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
The Demeaning of Democracy.
~ Gumby, Wood Woodpecker and Me ~ somewhere in the mother lode of a thousand poems scripted, lies a pen-pained tribulation, an old ode, to the taming of the shrew, the shock and awe of my new born, slept-on hair mode Ogdiddy, she says, rise up quick! thy self to the mirror dispatch, see what god hath wrought upon thy head this brand new morn blessed am I, at this late stage, in posses of a goodly and shocking amount of hair au naturel each of my body's parts has a mind of its own, my hairs, each one a different opinion and resultantly an amazing new creation born come dawn sometimes straight up like Gumby she quips, sometimes a shocking tail to one side in the style of one Woody Woodpecker, she mockingly cries! and on and on each daily a new cartoon characterization proposition, until one day in feigned wrath I do reply *just you wait Mrs. Higgins, just you wait, you will rue the day my do will be best described and descried by you as akin to that of one known as SpongeBob SquarePants*
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May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC
Gumby, Wood Woodpecker and Me
In Flanders fields the poppies blow, Between the crosses, row on row'. So wrote the poet John McCrae, Recording the reality of his day. Now after ninety four years have gone, The use of the poppy has now moved on. Instead of remembrance of the brave, It sends addicted millions to an early grave, And today our young troops fight and die, Without anyone asking the real question, why? In Helmand's fields the poppies blow, Beside the compounds where they grow, Surrounded by hidden IED's, Planted to **** and maim with ease, The brave young men sent on patrol, Hoping they return alive and whole, As they risk all to do their duty, The poppy crop provides illicit ***** That funds the continuation of this war, In which no one can say what we're fighting for! Tom Higgins 12/11/2012
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Poppy Price Tag
I Under the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd. A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown About the sky; where that is clear of cloud Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down; What shudders run through all that animal blood? What is this sacrifice? Can someone there Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star? Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through, A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow; A woman, and an arrow on a string; A pierced boy, image of a star laid low. That woman, the Great Mother imaging, Cut out his heart. Some master of design Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin. An age is the reversal of an age: When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone, We lived like men that watch a painted stage. What matter for the scene, the scene once gone: It had not touched our lives. But popular rage, Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down. None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart. Come, fix upon me that accusing eye. I thirst for accusation. All that was sung. All that was said in Ireland is a lie Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng, Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die. Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong To this bare soul, let all men judge that can Whether it be an animal or a man. II The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay. Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day. No civil rancour torn the land apart. Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's Imagination had been satisfied, Or lacking that, government in such hands. O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died. Had even O'Duffy--but I name no more-- Their school a crowd, his master solitude; Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
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Parnell's Funeral
I Under the Great Comedian's tomb the crowd. A bundle of tempestuous cloud is blown About the sky; where that is clear of cloud Brightness remains; a brighter star shoots down; What shudders run through all that animal blood? What is this sacrifice? Can someone there Recall the Cretan barb that pierced a star? Rich foliage that the starlight glittered through, A frenzied crowd, and where the branches sprang A beautiful seated boy; a sacred bow; A woman, and an arrow on a string; A pierced boy, image of a star laid low. That woman, the Great Mother imaging, Cut out his heart. Some master of design Stamped boy and tree upon Sicilian coin. An age is the reversal of an age: When strangers murdered Emmet, Fitzgerald, Tone, We lived like men that watch a painted stage. What matter for the scene, the scene once gone: It had not touched our lives. But popular rage, Hysterica passio dragged this quarry down. None shared our guilt; nor did we play a part Upon a painted stage when we devoured his heart. Come, fix upon me that accusing eye. I thirst for accusation. All that was sung. All that was said in Ireland is a lie Bred out of the c-ontagion of the throng, Saving the rhyme rats hear before they die. Leave nothing but the nothingS that belong To this bare soul, let all men judge that can Whether it be an animal or a man. II The rest I pass, one sentence I unsay. Had de Valera eaten parnell's heart No loose-lipped demagogue had won the day. No civil rancour torn the land apart. Had Cosgrave eaten parnell's heart, the land's Imagination had been satisfied, Or lacking that, government in such hands. O'Higgins its sole statesman had not died. Had even O'Duffy--but I name no more-- Their school a crowd, his master solitude; Through Jonathan Swift's clark grove he passed, and there plucked bitter wisdom that enriched his blood.
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45
THERE is something terrible about a hurdy-gurdy, a gipsy man and woman, and a monkey in red flannel all stopping in front of a big house with a sign "For Rent" on the door and the blinds hanging loose and nobody home. I never saw this. I hope to God I never will. Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo. Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum. Nobody home? Everybody home. Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo. Mamie Riley married Jimmy Higgins last night: Eddie Jones died of whooping cough: George Hacks got a job on the police force: the Rosenheims bought a brass bed: Lena Hart giggled at a jackie: a pushcart man called tomaytoes, tomaytoes. Whoop-de-doodle-de-doo. Hoodle-de-harr-de-hum. Nobody home? Everybody home.
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Eleventh Avenue Racket
Basil is a fruit bat Who flies through the trees, And flying is what fruit bats do With the most consumate ease, He flies until he comes to The place he's looking for Where the figs grow in abundance And he feasts till he can feast no more. Now I wonder what then happens When nature's functions call And when he's hanging upside down, Where does his wee and poo all fall? Tom Higgins 12/05/2014
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Basil the Fruit Bat
Francis Bacon was a pig He grew to be very big And when he reached his maximum The man from the butcher's then did come, And hit him very hard on the head And Francis Bacon was then dead. The man then proceeded to Chop him up, first into two, Then he merrily carried on Till what had been Francis was all gone. He was now like a meaty jigsaw puzzle From his tail to his snouty snuzzle, Ham, pork and bacon he'd become Joints,and chops, and also some, Big pork sausages hung in loops, And his bones were boiled to make soups, Then the bones were sent off to, A factory where they made glue, So if a moral to this tale you seek - "You can eat all of a pig except its squeak." Tom Higgins 15/05/2015
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
Francis Bacon.
Snow White, she once took seven little men to bed. She only ever did it once, at least that's what she said. Now of these seven six of them were not known as happy, and another of them, normally, well he was rather snappy. So she thought what might work, would be good old rumpy, pumpy, guaranteed to cheer up even that little old sod Grumpy. The next morning the change in them was really quite dramatic. Even old Grumpy had changed his name, he said ' just call me Mr Ecstatic.' Tom Higgins
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Not So Snow White!
i. Arc.tic Eur.ope mark.ings wo.ven to lea.ves – 8 Salix Boloria nails whisper the rocky, submarginal dark – triangles of Alberta and most wide – arctic willow (except, occasionally, other spots of Discal cell) Numero Uno, we've parallel branch ( n. ) with basal spot invaded by the darker adjacent colors or silvery white; ii. Fo.od pl.ants l.ight Ka.nsa.s defined Oakland or the apex clasp inner face of Valva Texola Higgins. Food? Brooded multiple orange various species, obsolete cells Yellowed cast; transverse lines..............(...) 9 Chlosyne wings; dark Maculation Virginia portion iii. re.d ex.tend.ing multiple orange (except Vesta Millicta) Athalia Ambigua Callophrys south brooded flowers connected wing tooth like line but central gray new Juniperus
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Feb 26, 2012
Feb 26, 2012 at 3:02 AM UTC
Washington county outdoor school
I just heard it on the news That the votes of those With narrow minded views Have gained for those people For who they vote A large hand around The "European's" throat, And that this selection Has led to the return Of ideas that caused Europe to burn. The hatred and xenophobia That I thought forever Gone from here Has once more reared It's mindless head, How many this time Will wind up dead? Because of the choices People make Having listened to voices That will take Millions into misery and war Do they understand What they voted for? Tom Higgins 25/05/2014
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
If Left to the Right.
Water, as most of you will know, Has the chemical formula H2O. Now this essential liquid is, as well, In its natural form devoid of smell, And also in its pure state It's clear and clean and really great, For keeping living things alive, As without it nothing can survive. Yes it really is such magic stuff, Because without it things are really tough, And it often makes me stop and think Each time I pour myself a drink. What would I do if it all dried up? Turn on the tap, but an empty cup. Nothing from the pipes emanating, Panic, as I'm not used to waiting. This is not how it is for me I live where rain falls frequently, And I can drink, shower and bathe too As often as I'm wanting to. But in other parts it rains only rarely, And people there, well they can barely Find enough water for their needs, To drink, to wash, to nurture seeds. For them life is infinitely harder They've learned to live with an empty larder, And simple hygiene is so hard to achieve When the detritus of living, they have to leave, Lying, rotting, stinking on the surface all around Polluting any water source in the ground. Because of the extreme poverty of these 'others', On my TV screen I have seen the faces of the mothers, Whose children died because there has never been Access to water which is drinkable and clean. Yes, something that we take for granted, Because we were born, where we were planted! Tom Higgins
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Watery Lottery
Now that the Ben Higgins Lauren Bushnell wedding is on once again, many are wondering why Higgins called it off in the first place. In the previous episode of the reality show, Higgins decided to call off the wedding. Many were shocked with his decision, including his fiancee. Bushnell admitted that she was totally blindsided by Higgins when he revealed during their therapy session that he wanted to postpone their wedding. At the time, Higgins said they felt an enormous pressure on their relationship since The Bachelor finale. When asked about how their respective families reacted on Higgins’ decision to call off the wedding, the 28-year-old software sales rep admitted that most of them already knew and their families were not surprised by the emotional episode. In Ben & Lauren: Happily Ever After? finale Tuesday night, Higgins revealed to his fellow Bachelor stars that the wedding was off and he and Bushnell have been in couples therapy. Everyone was shocked and saddened. The group, however, still managed to pull their emotions together and made a dinner plan for the couple. They also decided to surprise Higgins and Bushnell with a montage of their journey together showed on a screen atop the Marque. Higgins then called Bushnell to meet him at the top of the Skyfall Lounge, overlooking Las Vegas. Higgins then told Bushnell that he still wanted to be her husband. “I know that these last couple of weeks have been hard and confusing and tiring and sometimes something we both can’t understand. But through it all, I want you to know that I never thought for a second I could live a day without you in my sight. Lauren, I’m gonna be your husband. Lauren, you’re gonna be Mrs. Higgins.” Bushnell asked if Higgins’ words mean the wedding is back on. He replied yes. Ben Higgins Lauren Bushnell first met and fell in love in The Bachelor 2016. Higgins popped the question at the season finale. Shortly after, the two moved in together in Denver. However, split rumors continue swirling around their relationship.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
Wedding Because of Pressure?
Now that the Ben Higgins Lauren Bushnell wedding is on once again, many are wondering why Higgins called it off in the first place. In the previous episode of the reality show, Higgins decided to call off the wedding. Many were shocked with his decision, including his fiancee. Bushnell admitted that she was totally blindsided by Higgins when he revealed during their therapy session that he wanted to postpone their wedding. At the time, Higgins said they felt an enormous pressure on their relationship since The Bachelor finale. When asked about how their respective families reacted on Higgins’ decision to call off the wedding, the 28-year-old software sales rep admitted that most of them already knew and their families were not surprised by the emotional episode. In Ben & Lauren: Happily Ever After? finale Tuesday night, Higgins revealed to his fellow Bachelor stars that the wedding was off and he and Bushnell have been in couples therapy. Everyone was shocked and saddened. The group, however, still managed to pull their emotions together and made a dinner plan for the couple. They also decided to surprise Higgins and Bushnell with a montage of their journey together showed on a screen atop the Marque. Higgins then called Bushnell to meet him at the top of the Skyfall Lounge, overlooking Las Vegas. Higgins then told Bushnell that he still wanted to be her husband. “I know that these last couple of weeks have been hard and confusing and tiring and sometimes something we both can’t understand. But through it all, I want you to know that I never thought for a second I could live a day without you in my sight. Lauren, I’m gonna be your husband. Lauren, you’re gonna be Mrs. Higgins.” Bushnell asked if Higgins’ words mean the wedding is back on. He replied yes. Ben Higgins Lauren Bushnell first met and fell in love in The Bachelor 2016. Higgins popped the question at the season finale. Shortly after, the two moved in together in Denver. However, split rumors continue swirling around their relationship.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/sexy-formal-dresses
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8
The cowards came in the night All were heavily armed, To ****** and burn and kidnap, But not one of them was harmed. They always make sure their victim Has no means of self defence That is how they operate And to them its just common sense. Why would they pick on someone Who is able to easily fight back Because they are armed and trained To beat them if they dared attack? No, not for them the hard fight With men who are trained to **** They prefer to attack little girls And take them against their will. So these hard men of the group Which calls itself Boko Haram Tell me in what do you really believe, Because your actions are not of Islam. Tom Higgins 14/05/2014
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Thieves in the Night.
All aboard this ship of fools, all aboard she's sailing, all aboard this ship of fools, for we are going a' whaling. From the harbour our course we keep, for the distant Antarctic water, to find the leviathans of the deep, and begin our ****** slaughter. All aboard this ship of fools, all aboard she's sailing, all aboard this ship of fools, for we are going a' whaling. We say there is a scientific need, to study these magnificent beings we harpoon them, and watch them bleed, as before our ship they're fleeing. All aboard this ship of fools, all aboard she's sailing, all aboard this ship of fools, for we are going a' whaling. And still our leaders, they entreat that we do this for the good of science, but really it is for their meat, that we **** these gentle giants All aboard this ship of fools, all aboard she's sailing, all aboard this ship of fools, for we are going a' whaling. Tom Higgins.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
Ship of Fools.
If you give a man a fish, He will feed his family for a day, But if you teach him how to fish He will feed his family until the day The fish have all been spirited away By the massive fleets he can see On the horizon of his country's sea, And now his family's nutritional need That up to now he could feed Has been overridden by corporate greed. Then the nations whose fishing fleets Take away the fish he eats All become very irate When he's forced to be a pirate. Tom Higgins 23/05/2014
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:57 AM UTC
There's Something Fishy Going On.
Big bang happened, time began, Now here we are, the sons of man, Discussing whether a supreme being, Of such might and wisdom all seeing, Could possibly be around before, Any time existed, and what's more, Could pick a tiny isolated planet, And with a vast array of zoology, man it! Now that is more than incredible, If it was pie it would be inedible. The thought that out of billions of galaxies, He chose one tiny planet for the people he's, Made in his own likeness to do his bidding, No really he must have just been kidding, And out there among those trillions of stars There are billions more Earth's, where there are, Trillions more like you and me, Discussing how they came to be! Tom Higgins 18/10/2012
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
It Happened Naturally!
There is so much information all around, And pearls of wisdom can be found Everywhere on this internet, But with all my seeking I have not yet Found the source, she is such an elusive girl That fount of all knowledge the Mother of Pearl ! Tom Higgins
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:12 AM UTC
Where Is Knowledge Born?
NO. 31 O'HIGGINS ROAD, CURRAGH CAMP, CO. KILDARE. I climb a stair that isn't there stand on a landing in mid-air each step I take creates the next part of the vanished house lost to time as see through as a cartoon ghost. This was (still is) for me No. 31 O'Higgins Road my world the universe of me. What was once my bedroom...is now a cloud a window become a moon night and its storm sit in our living room a bird tiptoes down the stair flying through nine year old me reaching for the light switch to turn on what isn't there.
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Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 5:39 PM UTC
NO. 31 O'HIGGINS ROAD, CURRAGH CAMP, CO. KILDARE.
I have always had an interest in Interests I find interesting. Interesting interests of the kind That stimulate the interest of my mind. And when an interest, of interest interests me, I stay interested in it permanently So an interesting time I have had, Because having so many interests drives me mad. I’ve never had an interest in just one thing, That’s never been sufficiently interesting. For I find interesting interests everywhere That my interested eyes care to stare, Or my interested ears care to listen I find the interesting gems that sing and glisten. Tom Higgins 08/03/2014
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May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 7:59 AM UTC
An Interesting Interest for the Interested
The day is grey, the clouds hang low, and, in the air, a winter chill. Upon the beach called Omaha an old soldier stands; a promise to fulfill. Full Seventy years ago this man, weighted down with gear and kit, raced across this wet grey sand, and, by some miracle, remained unhit. Friends who’d survived that longest day, and all the long days after it, had purchased the bottle held in his hands. As the last man standing he had charge of it: His eyes, watery from the wind, Looked at the bottle in his hands: A Dom Perignon Brut Champagne, the 47’ vintage year. He thought about his comrades gone. Surely they were heroes all Who spilled out from the Higgins boats to breach the Hun’s Atlantic wall. He felt the presence of the ghosts, all those who fell upon this shore. Boys, really, almost all eighteen, who’d died answering Freedom’s call . He tore the foil with old gnarled hands; His Arthritis made a chore of this. Thin wire held the cork in place and was so difficult to untwist. Once free his placed his thumbs upon the curved underbelly of the cork The cork shot free across the sand and bubbly foam chased after it. He was not a religious man, it seemed impious for him to pray Though he recalled so many had, that day they bled their lives away. How best to honor these fallen men? Who had pledged their lives, each to each. It was then he turned the bottle down and poured the contents on the beach. Some would declare it sacrilege to let that vintage go to waste. The old soldier smiled and felt at peace. He’d seen the vintage of 26’ poured out in buckets In this very place..
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Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:15 PM UTC
The Libation Bearer
The day is grey, the clouds hang low, and, in the air, a winter chill. Upon the beach called Omaha an old soldier stands; a promise to fulfill. Full Seventy years ago this man, weighted down with gear and kit, raced across this wet grey sand, and, by some miracle, remained unhit. Friends who’d survived that longest day, and all the long days after it, had purchased the bottle held in his hands. As the last man standing he had charge of it: His eyes, watery from the wind, Looked at the bottle in his hands: A Dom Perignon Brut Champagne, the 47’ vintage year. He thought about his comrades gone. Surely they were heroes all Who spilled out from the Higgins boats to breach the Hun’s Atlantic wall. He felt the presence of the ghosts, all those who fell upon this shore. Boys, really, almost all eighteen, who’d died answering Freedom’s call . He tore the foil with old gnarled hands; His Arthritis made a chore of this. Thin wire held the cork in place and was so difficult to untwist. Once free his placed his thumbs upon the curved underbelly of the cork The cork shot free across the sand and bubbly foam chased after it. He was not a religious man, it seemed impious for him to pray Though he recalled so many had, that day they bled their lives away. How best to honor these fallen men? Who had pledged their lives, each to each. It was then he turned the bottle down and poured the contents on the beach. Some would declare it sacrilege to let that vintage go to waste. The old soldier smiled and felt at peace. He’d seen the vintage of 26’ poured out in buckets In this very place..
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28
I'm twenty three and just back from their war With no idea what I've been fighting for. I've not been myself since I got back Trying to live within a panic attack. I know one thing for sure, that my family Always have, and always will love me, And I know that they can see that I Have become a totally different guy To the happy young man I used to be Before I saw the things I came to see, But no matter what they do or say I still look with dread on each new day Since my best mate died in Afghanistan Blown to bits by the Taliban. "Bad luck" they said that he had to die. I've never let anyone seee me cry, That isn't how a soldier behaves No matter how many go to early graves. So now here I stand, mentally torn Wishing that I had never been born Into this cruel, unthinking world Where every time the flags are unfurled, The politicians spout more lies which we swallow Then we flock together as we follow These Judas goats who lead the sheep To slaughter and everlasting sleep. Inside I feel I have reached the stage Where the fires of hurt have begun to rage Against what is left in me to fight the pain Do I want to face this all again? Another day with my best mate gone Do I really want to linger on Asking every time I awake Why was it him not me they had to take? I just feel I can no longer cope Does the answer lie in this length of rope? Tom Higgins 16/08/2013
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May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
PTSD - What Their War Has Done To Me.
I remember dad sitting and reading each evening after dinner once he and me had washed up in the galley kitchen. After, I remember him stripping down to the waist and body washing at the sink, then completing his evening shave. I remember his big old badger shaving brush and a shaving mug refilled with Old Spice. I remember the odour, filling the kitchen and sticking to him. But mostly I remember him in his white vest in the brown armchair under the warm standard lamp, feet up by the fire, reading his books. Wilbur Smith. Alastair MacLean. Jack Higgins. The Sound of Thunder. Ice Station Zebra. Wrath Of The Lion. Always a hardback. Always a loaner from the regular family trips to the woods and the library. Always sitting in his heady mix of Old Spice, Brylcreem and St Bruno, reading and relishing the opportunity to pass the book on to me telling me of his envy of my first read of the adventure he’d just finished.
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Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 4:12 PM UTC
My dad had adventures