I am not sure if it is because of my age, the time of year, the world situation but I seem to be regressing into memories for my inspiration. This poem came while I was with the Bealtaine Writers in Annamakerrig this year. The Image is the first known painting by Francis Bacon and I saw it in the Leger Museum in Biot. There is no particular reason for putting them together other than I like the idea of it. As usual, enjoy and let me know what you think. Share the site with your friends too.
Thirty-eight years ago, she slid
between her mother’s thighs,
was u-turned, flopped belly onto belly
in all the glory of her gory fluids
Delivery for both was seamless
a major difference from before
Her cry was gently strong that told us
all was safe and well
we could come down from high alert
Her colour changed quite quickly,
blue to red to bursting skin tone
the faintest blood iron smell
rose up to meet our nostrils
A most striking thing that almost
did me in, her perfect little nails
already needed trimming. Her son
would later use the phrase
How did that happen
Then wrapped, unwashed I held her close
the fullest richest parcel ever placed
in my arm crook to make a lifelong bond
Peter Clarke May 2018
Leo S
10.07.2018 16:17
Touching...on many levels and in many ways...
Phil
12.06.2018 21:10
Lovely!
Pauline
12.06.2018 10:31
Beautiful, beautiful
David
Nailed it! Beautifully! :)
Colm
12.06.2018 05:09
09.06.2018 19:08
That's an eye burner! Very touching and evocative. Thanks Peter.
Sorcha
09.06.2018 07:40
Ehhhh thirty SEVEN years ago.. (for another few months anyway)
Love love love this poem. Thank you Da.
Marguerite Colgan
09.06.2018 05:59
Peter, what a full rich telling of the miracle of a new person made from woman and man. Thank you for sharing and re-minding me.
Latest comments
25.11 | 22:15
Grief is experience through the mundane. Simple but powerful. The accompanying image really compliments the poem.
07.11 | 11:14
Hi Peter,
A great observation! Social media can be a scary place... I also need to reduce my time there
Hugs,
John.x
06.11 | 16:24
A great one, Peter, in the context you describe. I don't read social media myself, I doubt my equilibrium could stand it. 'The balance of his mind disturbed' yes, I think it would be.
06.11 | 15:59
Yes, gossip is a weapon of mass destruction.
In my business as well as personal life I have zero tolerance.
Echoes of the Old on the New Battlefields
Warrior chiefs of the GAA were early on the field to prepare:
Posts and cones positioned to mark territories
Very young novices came later by parents’ chariots
clad and shod for the ensuing battles
Firstly, paced for speed, resilience and flexibility,
then marked off into opposing teams
Each warrior chief led a young squad of hopefuls
in further exercises to bring them to fit levels
There followed a huddle, an exhortation rant,
responded with clamour of intent and enthusiasm
Skirmishes began, speed across the field, hunt for the ball,
to be delivered as the goal, or to be prevented at all costs
Warrior chiefs egged on, instructed, altered the field of play
the young ’uns complied with fighting spirit
For every fall and hurt spells were cast on the side line
till fitness returned and they were entered back into play
Scores mounted, roars enhanced, casualties grew,
novices flagged and regrouped across the fields
Between bouts came the talks of encouragement
Stay back, pass, pass, pass, keep the pace.
Old hands passing skill onto new palms with dedication,
a gift of generous wisdom gladly given
Peter Clarke
20th April 2024