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Best Poems From
JOSEPH ENRIGHT
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25.
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My FATHERS Hands
Large calloused shovel like hands
Gnarled knuckles on fingers
With chipped nails
Kept clean with small bladed ivory handled penknife.
Strong tanned arms and hands
That gripped long handled shovel
And drove it with practised ease
Into a pile of unforgiving limestone.
The same hands that gripped
Iron handle of a stubborn starting
Diesel concrete mixer
On cold frosty winter mornings.
'Bitch of a thing wont start 'hed mutter
Tearing up empty cement bags
And lighting them
To heat the engine.
Then, a quick swing of the handle
And with a lifelike shudder
It coughed into life.
Its steady puth puth puth
Shattering the earky morning silence.
'RIGHT, LADS 'hed say 'LETS GET A MOVE ON
TIS EIGHT OCLOCK
HALF THE DAY IS GONE '
His arms moved at a steady measured pace all day
Never flagging.
At six or later hed call it a day.
At home in the scullery
Hed scrub his hands in the earthenware sink
With lifebuoy soap, before sitting down to eat.
He crossed himself, muttering thanks
To his God before eating.
Later, in the evening
The family in a circle
His fingers caressed his beads
As he recited the Rosary
Same strong hands that lifted me
As achild, never raised in anger.
The day my mother died
He shrouded his face with his hands as he wept,
Broken hearted.
I couldnt help but notice his bruised fingers,
A stone had fallen on them earlier.
His hands carried her coffin to her final earthly resting place.
At eighty seven his hands were still big
Translucent mottled skin
Covered his now callous free soft hands.
We folded them on his breast
With his beads
Intertwined in his fingers
Before laying him in the dank earth.
Joseph Enright
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26.
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Snow
Fluttering gently to the ground,
Touching earth without a sound
Transforming world with its glow
Magical world of winter snow,
Painting landscapes with its touch,
Different picture on every bush,
Silent world, painted clean
Moonlight casts an eerie sheen.
Night time hunters all around,
Barn owl, out on the hunt,
Silently surveys his world,
Dormouse dashes cross the snow
Dead quickly -just one blow.
Morning sun creeps oer the hill
Lighting up a world still
Rain clouds begin to loom
Winter snow....gone too soon.
Joseph Enright
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27.
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The Frog
A frog came in my house today,
Uninvited, you might say,
He looked around contentedly,
But took no heed of me.
Slightly green with spots of brown,
He jumped around the hall
Up and down, up and down
I tried to shoo him out the door,
But all he did was jump some more.
My dog Scruffy came bounding in
And started barking...what a din.
Old Froggy stood his ground
And stared, unblinking, at the hound
I stooped to pick him off the floor
But with a hop and a jump
He leapt right out the door
Joseph Enright
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28.
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The Forge
The old forge lies empty now
Covered in ivy green
Thee timber doors are bolted tight
No blacksmith can be seen.
No more the anvil's song you hear
When once it clanged so clear
Where people came from far and near
The townland news to hear
The old iron pump outside the door
Cool water pumps no more
Where blacksmith worked iron so hard
And formed gates so grand
Made shoes of iron for horses hooves
While the did patiently stand.
The blacksmiths days are now long gone
The likes we will see no more
For motor cars fill our roads
Goodbye to the days of yore...
Joseph Enright
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