Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Our Father Who Art In Clifton





So thrilled that ROPES Literary Journal of Galway, Ireland has published my poem Our Father Who Art in Clifton, in their recent issue. I was invited to the launch and so would've loved another trip to Galway, I do consider it my other home, but it wasn't possible.

This 25th edition of ROPES is titled Silence and proceeds will aide Pieta House, an organization that focuses on prevention of suicide and self harm.

It is also a huge kick knowing that this issue is on sale at various stores throughout Galway that I have at one time or another shopped in, such as the oh so very wonderful bookstore, Charlie Byrne's. Charlies is a great place crammed full of books on various levels with comfy chairs scattered about where one can plop down and read away an afternoon. Something I did often while I studied at NUIG (National University Ireland Galway) in the summer of 2015.




Our Father Who Art in Clifton



Our father is dead, in yonder hospital bed

                Pale skinned Irishman, cooling while

the pizza warms in the oven

We ordered a thick crust just after he left us

(Watching parents die is exhausting)

thinking we’d have more time

Before the funeral home staff arrived

                Banging at the door

                Hello? Is anyone there?

I hear the extra cheese bubbling so please

                Could we have a moment to eat

to drink, to think

It’s not like he’s going anywhere

Quiet and no longer alert he, basically a dirty

                Footed man who worked menial jobs for menial

 Pay yet kept the bellies of six pumpkins full

Go away hearse, we’ve changed our minds

                Our Father’s first limo ride can wait

                There is one more meal to share

Let us break apart the triangular pieces of heart

                An offering to the man who baked bread

For our suppers, remained faithful to our mother

Who God knows, was no Clara Bernhardt





6 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you Mirka. He's been gone 27 years and still, his presence is very strong.

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  2. Replies
    1. I suppose he might. On the other hand it might sadden him to see my comment about mom in the last line. He did love her so.

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  3. Well done, Donna! I read your poem before going out for morning chores, and I love how its imagery formed in my mind as I sat on my milking stool. I think it will be a treat for ROPES readers.

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    Replies
    1. thank you Leigh. So many of my ideas for my poetry and my short stories come while I am out caring for our own livestock. It's a special kind of peace out there with them, isn't it?

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