"maguire" poems
Maguire said: "Help me to help you!"
desperate measures
loud voices vie for unholy green
human bleeding punching bags
shaken brain, dulling wits, eye blur.
What's it all for? Gawd almighty dollar...
Better? A ten o'clock scholar.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 3:21 PM UTC
I've won a day at the races
For me and my friend Doreen Maguire
Posh frocks and new hats
That's what we require.
So off we go shopping
Hair and nails done on the way
Well we girls want to lookj our best
For the big race day.
Now Doreen's buxom and curvy
Me I'm thin as a latt
Or you could say slim and slender
And Doreen's just fat.
We went in loads of shops
Nothing seemed to fit the bill
Everything was kind of frumpish
And we're definitly not over the hill.
Then we came accross this shop
In a side street in the town
It's called Reds Closet Boutique
And we both came out with a gown.
We got fascinators to match
Shoes, accessories and bags too
Doreen got something in pink
I got something in blue.
It was the day of the races
We were up with the lark
Had our lunch at Tom and Jerry's
Then off to Haydock Park.
The horses are under starters orders
And I'd backed the grey
Well it came home last
But it was winning all the way.
Now we came to the last race
And we're digging deep in our pocket
Doreen said put it on this
It's called Super Rocket.
Well it romped hom at 50/1
This horse called Super Rocket
And me and Doreen Maguire
Went home with brass in our pocket.
© Hazel
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
Martha Maguire's mother
entered her daughter's bedroom
her daughter was asleep
in the bed
Martha what's the statute
of Our Blessed Lord
doing in your bed?
Martha woke up
bleary-eyed
hair matted
what?
she muttered
the statue
what's it doing
in your bed?
Martha looked around
at the Sacred Heart
of Jesus statue
beside her
on her pillow
**** me
how'd that get there?
she muttered
language Martha
in front of Our Lord
sorry Jesus
Martha said
nodding to the statue
and moving away
from Him carefully
so He didn't
fall side wards
into the bed
what's it doing there?
it's the Crucified
I know who it is
I asked you
what it is doing
in your bed?
I got lonely
and had no one
to talk with
Martha said
you can talk with Jesus
without having Him
in your bed beside you
it's not decent
what would the priest
have to say about that
I don't know
her mother said
Martha moved
to the side of the bed
can you go now Ma
I want to wash and dress
for school
you've nothing
I've not seen before Martha
a few things
have developed since
you saw me
in the bathroom last Ma
Martha said
waiting
for her mother to go
if your Da heard
how you speak
he'd slap your backside
so he would
the last time Da
saw me backside
it had talcum powder on it
and a ****** *****
Martha said
her mother
raised her eyebrows
and sighed
and walked out
of the room
and closed the door
sorry about that Lord
she said
to the Crucified's statue
Ma has no sense of privacy
she moved off
the bed carefully
and pulled the sheet
and blanket
over the statue
and patted the head
the head of the statue
peeped over
the blanket at her
won't be long
just going for a wash
and clean and brush
me hair Lord
she said
she gathered up
her towel and flannel
and giving the statue
one last look
she went out
of her bedroom
and walked across
to the bathroom
and closed the door
she removed her nightie
and dropped it
to the floor
and stood there
gazing in the mirror
in her *******
and bra
musing softly
there's no sense
of privacy
with Ma.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
As the door closes on another England Chapter
A sterling effort far from disaster
A first major final in fifty-five years
Jubilant voices replaced by tears
But we've come along way in such a short time
Maguire and Stones a solid back-line
Pickford mature and calm between the sticks
A terrific save in penalty kicks
Shouts of "Shawberto!" From the stands
A chorus of 'Sweet Caroline' "hands touching hands"
Cries of "bring on Grealish!" Phil Foden's bleach blonde hair
Fist pumps from Southgate
The passion was there
Beating the Germans at last
Now that felt sublime
Sterling a constant menace now in his prime
But we came up short and that's what matters
Broken hearts English dreams in tatters
Yet I firmly believe this is just the beginning
So keep your heads up and keep on singing
"It's coming home it's coming home"
Cos it will one day
Even though it rains and the sky is grey
Red and white ribbons on that cup we'll see
And what a perfect sight it will be
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:50 AM UTC
Martha Maguire sits
in the back pew of the church
cigarette between fingers,
smoke drifting slowly
to the high beams and tiled roof,
her blue eyes focusing on the Crucified
His arms stretched wide
His head lowered
His eyes shut
the skimpy cloth
about His midriff
nails in hands and feet
and wound in the side
a slit of red paint revealed,
she takes a drag on the cigarette,
inhales deeply holds the cigarette
just away from her lips and
with no effort releases
the smoke in a steady stream
over the pew in front,
the Crucified's skin
has a yellowy sheen to it,
the crown of thorns have
acquired cobwebs and dust,
only her in the church
silence except for distant traffic,
Magdalene had talked
of the priest and one
of the nuns and some
kind of thing going on,
Martha muses
watching the smoke rise,
the young priest not the old codger,
which nun was it?
not St Agnes that's for sure
she'd only *** out of
her thingamajig,
as would most of the sisters
no doubt,
Sister Lucy was it?
maybe can't recall the gossip,
she inhales deeply again
scratches an itch
on her thigh,
Mary Moran and her ways
with the boys
and she only fourteen too
as am I,
she smiles recalling
what Mary said of Brian Brady
and what he tried to do
put your hand in some other
girl's private place not mine
she said she said,
the Crucified hangs in silence
not a word
not a judgement,
some days she's sure His head
lifts and He gazes at her
with an awkward smile,
His eyes half open
the **** thorns pushing
His hair over His eyes,
the door at the far end opens
and the young priest enters
in his black garb
like a young rook
on the prowl,
he genuflects
and makes the sign of the cross,
then peers down towards Martha
who hides her cigarette
out of sight,
the smoke drifting less so
but under the lower pews,
he looks away
goes to the altar
fiddles with things
goes to the tabernacle
and opens the door
and fiddles inside,
she looks at her cigarette,
lowers her head
and takes a swift inhalation,
then sits back up
gazes at the priest
**** arsing about,
the cigarette between fingers
out of sight,
and she thinking
if it was the priest and Sister Luke
and the carrying ons
and what and where if so,
anyway she muses
letting the smoke drift
from her lips
what do they know?
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
Maguire & Patterson
never came to terms
with it, died without
a testimony, they did.
Open casket, stiff as
pokers and bald as a
pair of boiled eggs,
they are!
The dampness got to
them it's endemic, but at
least they get their last wish
to be cremated, they will!
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
In the small school chapel
Martha stood in front
of the black wood crucifix
high on the wall
if she stood on tiptoe
she could just about
touch the plaster paris
Crucified's
nailed feet
the chapel was empty
no sound
smell of incense
and old bricks
and aged bodies
of old nuns who once
fumed here
Martha stood on tiptoe
and kissed the Crucified's
nailed feet with her lips
soft lips on paster feet
Jesus I want
to be your bride
want to hold
you close
want to
have you near
let your ears hear
she whispered
she went back
on her feet
watched the Crucified
His arms outstretched
His nailed hands
like claws
His eyes looking skywards
not particularly hairy
like her father was
not under the arms
or chest
she mused
what are you doing here
Martha Maguire?
A nun said
creeping up
behind her
having slid in
like a shadow
from the cloister
Martha turned around
talking to the Crucified
Martha said
eyeing the tubby nun
why are you not
in class?
The nun said
Martha turned back
to gaze at the Crucified
wanted to talk to Him
she said
not during class-time
the nun said
now get
on to your class
and don't be here
during school time
understand me?
Martha gazed
at the Crucified's eyes
heavenward gazing
His hands nailed cruelly
if I could
Martha said
I'd unnail Him
take Him
in my arms
and hug Him
to being better
the nun frowned
gazed at the back
and backside
of the Maguire girl
will you get yourself
off to class Maguire
I won't tell you again
or you'll being having
a ruler across
your palms once more
Martha sighed
she thought she saw
the Crucified eye her
but couldn't be sure.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC
Terry Maguire was fond of a fire.
He was a kilnman in days of yore.
But not he's changed to drawing cream
To Tugmans of Teemore.
When Terry gets up in the morn'
he eats his crumbs.
He tackles the mare,
There's no time to spare
Till he reaches Doonans and Gunns
And when he reaches Tugmans
He's in an awful plight.
He says "Be jeepers the horse is mad,
I'll not get home tonight."
There were ***** carts and horses carts
And carts from all around
But none to compare with Terry Maguire
The pride of sweet Milltown
(author Gerry/Shem Gunn)
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 1:10 PM UTC
R.
20 Years, capital H, honesty. Corporate career, fast
is the future. She was 19, my Maguire moment in life,
& then lost Ashley... I am not a poet, advertising before
you get lost in your world. Widowed at 20, maiden voyage. Back in life, I design my own live- models.
Here is where we are, pictures, by a railtrack, sun of a
golden brightness. A shock to my system, gone in one
centon, what is the minute man? I am not a career poet,
I live in another century. She and I are there, here, I
blame her death on the tunnel, built perhaps in prefab.
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
after he had a whiskey
at the Stony Creek saloon
the cowboy rode out
to face his high noon
with a Winchester rifle
stowed in his saddle pack
he rode along
the timbered mountain track
by a bluff clearing
he sighted a camp fire
which signaled to him
that it was Jake Maguire
he called out his name
saying your days in sun are over
I'm going gun you down
before the day is over
with his Winchester primed
and ready to blast
the cowboy shot Maguire
lightning fast
there was no high noon
contest on that summer day
as into the sun set
the cowboy rode away
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Me, you?
A pile of stew?
A dinner for two?
A side of verbal spew?
Oh, ****
I picked up sticks
and allowed my mind
to create you different.
You scare me.
Wine in hand
I make weird plans
I use rope and some vinegar too.
Brain cloud, said Joe to his volcano
erupts inside Meg Ryan
"Where are you?"
Tobey Maguire cries rivers
His ***** is this big.
Go deeper for truth
Go deeper for answers
Let's swell and burst.
Spanish for **** me".
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
Magdalene sits opposite
her father at the dining table,
her mother is in the kitchen
dishing up the food.
Your ma says
that Maguire girl was here?
Her father says.
Magdalene looks
at him for a while.
What was she
doing here?
He says.
Listening to records,
and talking,
she replies.
But why was she here?
The reports from school
from the nuns
are not good, he says.
What mine?
Magdalene says.
No hers,
they've almost
given up on her,
he says.
Shame on them,
she says.
He stares at her,
no lip from you
or you'll feel my hand,
he says gruffly,
stay away from her,
she'll bring you no good.
Magdalene looks away
from him, looks
at the Scared Heart of Jesus
picture on the wall.
Her da goes on,
she listens to the music
in her head,
that Billy Fury song,
thinking of her and Mary
in the bed, kissing
and touching.
Her ma comes in
with two plates of stew
and puts them down
in front of them both,
then goes out again.
Her da still yaks,
Billy Fury still sings.
Her ma comes in
with her own plate of stew,
and sits down at the table.
I've told her to stay away
from the Maguire girl,
the father says
to the mother.
Make sure you do,
her ma says.
Magdalene gazes
at her mother.
Billy stops singing;
her ma's voice has
driven him away.
I will,
Magdalene says,
beginning to fork
in the dumpling.
Make sure you do,
I don't want her
round here again,
her da says.
Billy Fury sings once more,
Mary's hand touches her,
brings her to a seventh heaven,
and then she kisses neck,
and shoulder.
We'll run away,
Mary said,
when we get older.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC
Martha closed the door
of the confessional,
and knelt down
in the dim darkness,
and peered through
the wire mesh,
behind which
the priest sat.
She could see
the shadowiness of him there.
Yes my child?
he said in a deep voice,
what do you ask of God?
Martha hoped
there wasn't spiders
anywhere hanging;
if there was she'd scream,
especially if
it was hanging by her head.
She searched as best
she could in the dimness.
Yes, my child?
The priest said.
Bless me, Father,
I have sinned,
she muttered,
her eyes peering
through the mesh,
I last came to confessions...
last Monday it was
because Ma said
to tell you everything,
but I forgot about
the forgetting to say
the Hail Marys,
and of course
I did think horrible things
about Sister Agnes
that old bat,
well she does go on so,
and she has this smell,
but no one tells her,
but it kinds of hangs
about the air,
and well I can't stand
strong smells,
so I said to her about it,
and she became
quite offended,
and that other sin
I forgot,
I did take a cigarette
from Da's pack,
but just the one,
and lit it you see,
and I neigh on choked
and swore,
and I known swearing's a sin,
and I know the Lord hears
and doesn't like
the swear words,
so I am here
to add those sins
to the rest
I am about to say
if I can remember them all,
...and Martha told the list
in a monotone voice,
and the priest sat
gazing at the mesh
wondering if
the Maguire girl
was going to be there
much longer and tried
to hold in a rumbling
stomach noise,
and mused,
but at least
she doesn't
talk about boys.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
Martha stared at the crucifix
in the convent chapel after school;
she was alone,
other kids had gone home
and the nuns were in church
for Vespers.
You look tired Lord
hanging there.
Your arms must ache
in that one position.
The five wounds.
How bloodied they look.
I want to Your bride
and be a nun
and be able to visit You anytime
of the day or night.
I want to tend
to Your wounds,
kiss Your aching limbs,
place a finger in Your side.
Want to whisper
in Your ear
my every woe,
my sins and sense
Your arms about me
when I am low.
The chapel door opened
a nun stood there.
Martha Maguire
what are you
doing here?
Be off with you girl.
Martha gazed at the nun
with her big eyes.
Just talking
to the Crucified,
she said.
Off you go,
the nun said.
Martha went
cursing the sister
inside her head.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
I was in 4th grade at
Hubble Elementary.
Eddie Van Patten was
in 6th grade.
He was a big kid, even
for a 12-year-old.
He had a bowl cut,
and freckles.
Eddie was a
troublemaker,
but he never
bothered me.
One bitter cold
January afternoon,
he slipped on a
patch of ice,
hit the back of
his head and died.
Mr. Maguire, the
gym coach said,
It was the occipital bone.
We were all told
to feel the back of
our heads.
The coaches' eyes
didn't have that
sparkle anymore.
He said,
“You have to
learn how to
fall, always protect
the back of your head.
If you don’t land right,
It can **** you.”
For the next
week, we practiced
tumbling and
learning to fall the
right way.
I was sad for
Eddie, but I wanted
to play dodgeball.
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 6:46 PM UTC