Sunday, September 01, 2013

Poem - An Unmarked Bog

14.Jun.2013

I heard tell of a few lads with cattle near the G8 field

loading their own cattle onto a lorry, 
being accosted by the German Secret Service,
in Fermanagh, 70 years too late.
The myopic DeValera abstaining from Berlin, 
overlooking our control of the Atlantic lanes
or the opening of three more fronts on the Brits.
As an American Dev never understood our 500 year war,
content to continually reinvent his political future, 
Ireland be damned.
We / they reminisce or speculate
what the final tally might have been 

and how grateful the Palestinian mothers,
the un-orphaned 
and un-widowed would be.
How fast could they have processed Prods in the north?
given the superior German technology, 
or would we have simply deported them.? 
Eventually some sort of European league table emerging
gangs of supporters roaming from facility to facility
the main positive by-product or outcome
the Irish gobshites fighting for the Brits
there’d be no monuments to them in Ireland, for sure.
A good deep hole in an unmarked bog,
more than adequate.




==

by Des Donnelly    ..written 14.Jun.2013

Note: you may find aspects of the poem objectionable, this is obviously intentional, it is highly unlikely that a Buddhist version will follow..

As a Tyrone man reared in the time of the war in the North and the Hunger Strike and the sacrifice of so many men, women and children for national self determination I consider any Irish person who ever fought for the British to be the ultimate traitor to Ireland. Pick any one of dozens of atrocities perpetrated by the British army in recent years never mind going back in our own history.

In the war years all of Tyrone was subjected to the border choke point of Aughnacloy when trying to get to Dublin to take/meet someone to/at the airport or just trying to get to a football match. Likewise over on the Boa islands, hundreds of cars filled with small tired children only wanting to get home from the beach.

There was ordinary life going on every day under the heel of the British and all the while the Freestate government doing then what it is doing now, turning their face away so as not to look at the problems, hoping they will disappear.


Yes Taoisigh, lots of brave voices silenced, lots of creative people lost to Ireland and all the while the only class growing - the gobshites.

It is most disappointing to note the revisionism going on, the apologists for Irish traitors attempting to integrate / assimilate the events of Easter 1916 and set those events on an equal footing with a celebration for the traitors who fought for the British.

This viewpoint has nothing to do with rabid republicanism, it has to do with the failure of politicians to act as decent human beings. This failure permeates every aspect of Irish life, all we see from the political establishment / the political tribes is a cohesive veneer of lies pasted over their greed and ineptitude. They are universally professional and proficient in that regard.



.

Friday, August 30, 2013

Seamus Heaney (1939 - 2013)


It is with great sorrow and sadness that I report the death of Seamus Heaney in Dublin. I offer my condolences to his wife Marie, and children, Christopher, Michael and Catherine Ann.

Seamus Justin Heaney, 13 April 1939 to 30 August 2013.  R.I.P.


--


"The spot is hallow'd where the good man dwells;

Though centuries have laps’d, his words and deeds 

for his remotest offspring still resound”  Goethe



--
Seamus Heaney was the ultimate poet to me; in his work, his life, his manner, his openness and accessibility. I thought of him as a friendly statue, solid, smiling as I resisted the urge to bow down in his presence. Meeting him at readings down the years he was always the same, I remember meeting him at a reading in Clogher, Co Tyrone, I had just pulled up when he drove in beside me & got out, we talked a while & taking a jacket from the car he said;

 “I may put on the working clothes”


--

Des Donnelly, Poet, Co Tyrone.

.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

1 million views of my writing on Hubpages


A few years back (probably a right few now) I reached the milestone of 1 million views of my writing on Hubpages under my pseudonym Drax. I would like to thank all my readers, friends and fans for their support in the Hubpages era. I am indebted to Paul Edmondson, former CEO of Hubpages and all his staff.

I do not have any poetry publicly viewable on the site anymore and I am in the process of moving that material to here.