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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory  10/20/2014 3:08:47 AM
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  Best Poems From
  MICHAEL MICMAC MCCRORY (25/01/1954)
 
 
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  29.     

'Something old, something new'

‘SOMEONE OLD-SOMETHING NEW’

I sat in the cool night air on my balcony
When the sound of voices came a fluttering up to me
I wish one had said, I did that when I was younger
Do it now, you can afford to, you won’t die of hunger

However, alas, I am too old to do it now
What? Too old, at fifty, you are only just alive
If I had the chance to do it, I would, but
I am too old, at three score years and five

I’ll tell you what, let’s do it together
Let’s dance a swift fandango
Forget our ages we’ll go ahead
Then we will dance the tango

They found they could do something new
The tango led to other dances
Just shows you what you can do
If only you take the chances

MICMAC
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  30.     

'The empty canvas'

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

MICMAC
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  31.     

'The game of life'

‘The Game of Life’
Where would we be?
Without the eccentric
Life would be square
And never concentric
Now and again
I need the odd
Wouldn’t it be wonderful?
If we were all god

My head’s permanently in a mangle
My life is a triangle
Looking askew
Life is always a left angle
I wish I were normal
I want to blend in
Yet I could never be formal
Men in white send in

You never see
My point of view
However, I can see
Straight through you
You think you would like to stand
On the outside of the frame
You never will because you think
That I am suited and it’s for the lame

You’re so happy
It is my game
It is my life
I am the man with no name
And so my life goes on
Out in rain, hail and smog
Spat at and pissed upon
Always the underdog
Forever last in; ‘THE GAME OF LIFE’

MICMAC


 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 

   
   
 

  32.     

'The Reverend Paisley'

The Reverend Paisley

The reverend Paisley is on the way out
Up to heaven and not to hell
Long chats with dead popes no doubt
The pope's will chat; but he will yell

The pope's will work on him: a religious turn
Then he will change his name from Paisley
Home's in Northern Ireland will burn
When he becomes the reverend Papistley

Perhaps before he goes, he will see the light
Become Northern Ireland's brand new daddy
To London's parliament, he will take our fight
Yelling; give Ireland back to paddy

Michael Micmac Mccrory
 
Michael Micmac Mccrory
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Michael Micmac Mccrory