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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  7/29/2014 7:43:21 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MICHAEL MICMAC MCCRORY (25/01/1954)
 
 
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  125.     

'That was me; but who am i? '

‘That was me; but who am I? '

I was that man
Had gun did travel
Shot others for a fee

I was that man
Yet was that man me?
He's not who I am now

This old dog
Learnt some new tricks
I don't do what I used to do

That man was a part of me
He no longer exists
Yet without that man

Who would I be?
Would I still be me?
Am I me?

That was me
Should the question be
Who am I?

Michael Micmac Mccrory
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  126.     

'The Aging Man'

‘The Aging Man’

The aging man sat on the concrete seat
Outside the hidden mountain cottage
The seat where generations had sat before
A family party going on inside the cottage
He sits and ponders his future
As generations have done before
Some chose the priesthood
Others opted for foreign climes
Some had gone to war
None of the family who had left
Had ever returned home
The eldest, as he was, of each generation
Stayed at home on the farm
He thought, this he might change
He wasn’t sure if he wanted
Another family member
Stuck on this mountain
In this out of the way cottage
That they called the family home
But he never felt at home
Someone standing on the doorstep
Shouts come in son
It is your eighteenth birthday party
You should be in here
He went back to the party
The family were in full spirits
Happy to see him grown
How will he tell them
He is going to break with tradition
A heavy burden for one so young
What a weight on his shoulders
For him, the aging man

Michael Micmac Mccrory
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  127.     

'The Beautiful Tree'

For hundreds of years
It has stood nobly
It is so beautiful
It will reduce you to joyful tears

It's branches a playground
For generations of kids
It's dark green leaves
Dark as the secrets it hid

It has a gory history
And met many bad men
It was the hanging tree
Way back when

For hundreds of years
It has stood nobly
With it's history of varied tears
Now it is so beautiful
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  128.     

The Eejit

‘THE EEJIT’

DO YOU SEE THAT EEJIT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET
DANCING AND SWAYING AND STOMPING HIS FEET
HE CAN’T HEAR MUSIC, BUT ALAS INSTEAD
HE’S CAVORTING LIKE THAT BECAUSE OF VOICES IN HIS HEAD
TO CALL HIM AN EEJIT IS A BIT UNKIND
HE’S LIKE THAT BECAUSE HE HAS A WANDERING MIND
ASK HIM ANY QUESTION, YOU’LL GET THE ONE REPLY
I DON’T KNOW THAT, BECAUSE MY BRAIN DID DIE
HE CAME FROM A BIG FAMILY, HAD MANY KIN
THEIR ALL DEAD, ALL BUT ONE DONE IN
BUT HE CAN’T GET IT LEVEL IN HIS HEAD
WHY HIS BROTHER TOOK A GUN AND SHOT THEM DEAD
MENTION ABOUT HIS MAMMY AND PAPPY
HE’LL SHOUT AND SMILE, THAT’S WHEN I WAS HAPPY
THEY’LL BE FOREVER WITH HIM, HE ALWAYS HAS SAID
HE KNOWS IT TRUE; IT’S THEIR VOICES IN HIS HEAD
HE’S BEEN THAT WAY SINCE HE WAS THREE
HE WAS THE ONLY ONE TO SURVIVE THE MASSACREE
YES, IT IS TRUE! HE WAS ONLY THREE
THAT’S THE AGE HE WILL ALWAYS BE
DO YOU SEE THAT EEJIT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREET
DANCING AND SWAYING AND STOMPING HIS FEET
LEAVE HIM ALONE, AND THANK YOUR GOD
YOU HAVEN’T THE LIFE OF THAT POOR SOD

MICMAC
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory