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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  7/24/2014 7:59:12 AM
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'All the beats of my heart'

‘All beats of my heart’

All beats of my heart beat only for you
I’m drawn in the purest love
The purest love for the immaculate you
The immaculate woman so perfect
So perfect a woman made for the purest love
All beats of my heart beats only for you

The daylight was made to highlight the beauty in you
The beauty in you is made to love
To love the whole night through
Your eyes that sparkle so that the drummer can see
Can see to play all the beats of my heart
All the beats of my heart that beats only for you

Michael Micmac Mccrory




There is a barber from Antrim
Who is friendly with the reaper grim
He will cut your throat
Like a sacrificial goat
Then bury your remains in Leitrim
Michael Micmac Mccrory



Daft old Bill


I look up at the sky and think
What is it that poets see in you?
For all I can see
Is one massive blob of blue

There it is, the poet’s ‘lonely cloud’
To describe it, he takes great pains
But! All it does for me
Is, to open up and pour with rain

Then he says, ’he’s in such a jocund company’
And speaks of golden daffodils
‘In sprightly dance‘ which he then dances with
For god’s sake bill keep taking the pills

Next, he talks of, ‘the bliss of solitude’
‘Dancing with flowers’ No wonder he’s alone
‘His heart with pleasure fills’
As he ‘twinkles on the milky-way’ Via the twilight zone

So if you see someone ‘fluttering and dancing in the breeze’
‘swaying with ten thousand daffodils’
It’s only daft old bill

“You know the old saying! If a Wordsworth is worth doing, it’s a word worth doing properly.”

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Father Nicholas'

‘Father Nicholas’

He was born to go to hell
That is where he is bound
Right now he’s in a cell
For messing with children of this town

He wore a priest’s cassock
He was there to nurture young minds
But he got them to kneel on the hassock
Then he took them from behind

Now as he sits in his prison cell
Things on his mind to dwell
Is it the truth he’ll tell
Not a chance in hell

The children have to get it level
They have to see it in their eyes
They have to know that old nick, was Satan
He was the devil in disguise

Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory