Poems by Brendan

Memories of Easter 1969

The old man in Eyre Square

Selling Easter Lilies

He looked scary I thought

Be wary, said my dad

The Troubles had started

Be careful what you say

Was what we were advised

The memory of 1916

Was still in the air

October 2001

The memory of the old lady

On a bridge in Glasgow

Selling the Poppy

I declined to buy

You are a Fenian, she said

No that’s not the reason, I said

All war is pointless, I said

And hurried on my way

She was not impressed.

The Last Time

I had my first cigarette

At the age of twelve

In the summer of '67

I felt sick and unwell

And said to my mother

This could be the last time

At secondary school

We smoked and smoked and smoked

We got numerous hidings

And slaps of the leather

But we promised the priests

This could be the last time

Our blonde Irish teacher

She smoked: Imagine

We bought her 200 at Christmas

We said to her longingly

This could be the last time

Now I’m a doctor

So I’ve had to give up

I said to a patient

Could I bum a fag?

This could be the last time.

My wife was kind

Kept me on the straight and narrow

But the mother-in-law came to stay

So back on the fags I went

I said to the wife

This could be the last time.

At the Stones in 2007 at Slane

A friendly face offered a fag

I said tanks but no tanks

And the band played fiercely

This could be the last time

Maybe the last time

I don’t know

Oh, no

Brendan Mahon is a member of Inklings Writing Group, who meet on Tuesdays at 11am in the Annebrook House Hotel, Mullingar.