Poems from the past

2016 has been a fuckin’ doozie. Apart from the usual shite happening in politics and war and another 12 months of carbon added to the atmosphere, we’ve had a long list of inspirational people pop their clogs so far this year. All that’s left to make a fucking mess out of it is for David Attenborough to kick the bucket – hang in there Dave!

But I’ve had an interesting year at home. 12 months ago my son was born and he’s a lively character. We just celebrated his birthday (he was a bit surprised at the sudden bouts of singing, but loved the toys) and it made me think of a couple of poems I wrote then that after a year might be al right to reveal to the world.  It’s a strange time, waiting, wondering if despite the ultrasounds etc, things might not turn out exactly as we hope.

Still no photos of the sprog himself, so he can’t get angry with me when he’s older.

 

Outside the Maternity Hospital, Three AM

 

Me and my equivalent of a cigarette

The silent night air, empty of all but the watcher

Waiting, wondering of all that is to come

Compared to what went before, and

Content for that moment in between.

 

 

Emotion on the Birth of my New Boy

 

The work is done – wasn’t done by me;

I was but a watcher of the night, but

It wasn’t easy from where I was standing.

And the last worry lingered as the time went by

Until eventually he emerged, and a tear slid

Similarly out to see his face amid the mess,

So similar to my sibling, so obviously okay.

 

 

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About davidjmobrien

Writer, ecologist and teacher

Posted on November 29, 2016, in poetry, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. As an aside, there are already, during this month of December, memes going about about keeping David Attenborough in cotton wool till 2016 is out.

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