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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  8/28/2014 10:18:41 AM
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'In the dark'


I am oft times prone to despise
When other men look into your eyes
I am oft times at the end of my wits
When other men look at your tits
I oft times think it’s a farce
When other men say, you have a nice arse
However, what really get’s on my goat
Is when you sit and gloat
When other men oft times remark
Did you meet him in the dark?

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'Our love is forever'


Now, there’s a you and I
You no longer need to cry
Sit and enjoy being together
Storming the cruel bitter weather
Our love is forever

Written about by the clever
Sung in all their songs
About how our love survived
All of life’s twisted wrongs
Our love is forever

Our love without lies
Will survive their jealous minds
No matter what the world tries
We’re in love is all they will find
Our love is forever

Our love in our house
In the middle of our street
Even the little mouse
Think’s its ever so sweet
Our love is forever

To Noireen,
The love of my life

Michael Micmac Mccrory



'The empty canvas'


The empty canvas
Here I stand
Ready for the deluded illusion
To be painted, sketched or drawn,
Into the self portrait
I could eventually become

The canvas is empty
Waiting for me to become
A surrealist, because the image
Like the canvas is bereft of substance
Not finished, never to be done
Cos I’m still searching the real me

I will have to start
To begin the search
For the lines and shapes
That portray me
So that people can say
Aye! That was him

He filled the image
Live the life, fulfilled his potential
He was big enough and had importance
Sufficient meaning to his existence
Lived his life to the full
To fill the canvas was his desire

The canvas is still empty
Surrounded by scaffold and a dustsheet
Waiting for the day
Someone will pull the cord
Then paint my outer form
Then I will have to start
The search for the inner me

Michael Micmac Mccrory



' Having Money is Good For The Soul '

He brought the shears
To trim the weeds growing on the grave
I brought the tears
They flooded out with nothing left to save

New flowers placed on top
Inscriptions cleaned up, now easily read
All the weeds finally cropped
Now we pay our respects to the dead

An aging aunt; we barely knew
Always in the background as we grew
Mother dragged us by bus every Sunday to
Mother being the only one feeling blue

But now we go on Sunday’s too
To leave fresh flowers for our love ones there
Because mother’s in the grave with aunty sue
We go, not because we care

Aunty Sue left mother a huge fortune
Mother died left the money to both of us
The sound of jingling coins playing our tune
We go home in a roller to hell with the bus

Next Sunday I’ll bring the shears
To trim the weeds growing on the grave
He’ll will bring the tears
Because he is one of the tear shedding brave

We barely knew mother’s sister Sue
But we think she was just a honey
Missing her is something we just won’t do
But we will enjoy spending her money
Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory