Her Troubles
By Turlough
- 2642 reads
Her Troubles
Tuesday’s fish supper grease still lingers
On grubby stubby stiff little fingers
Cracked by cold and each one bleeds
From overuse of rosary beads
The prayers that failed to meet her needs
Shaking as she does her speed
And always stained by nicotine
Hopes to be a beauty queen
Dissolved before she turned thirteen
A twenty-two-year-old has-been
Ashamed, afraid, must not be seen
With giro day’s amphetamine
And never let old Father Quinn
See her world is caving in
Keeping up her awful lie
Folk must never see her cry
Craving for the next great high
Screaming from a mouth too dry
To make a noise or even sigh
She wonders why
So many people point and stare
Does any mortal sinner care?
Hands shake in pockets with nothing there
But holes just like the soles
Of her shoes
That the cash from the dole's
Not enough to mend
The fear and desperation send
Her in flip flops frozen to her feet
She’s hard and cold like the wet concrete
Where she slips and slops in driving sleet
Nonstop to the shop
At the top of the street
In icy rain
In physical and in mental pain
For twenty Benson's
With no intention
Of paying back
A tenner stole from Granda's pension
Not to mention a few wee coins
For a drop of something sweet and strong
To help the morning move along
To drown the sounds
Of crying weans that pound and pound
Inside her head and all around
Her life's in tatters, so it is
Yer man at home says so is his
He once could fill her life with craic
Until he filled his own with crack
A body tortured on a rack
Small hope of ever turning back
A page in a Falls Road almanac
Photograph:
Taken by me. The giant cranes, Samson and Goliath, at the Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast.
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Comments
That..
was your best yet imho. Thundering pace, sharply observed, this is a song of folk that needs to be sung.
Lx
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Hi Turlough,
Hi Turlough,
a poem that moves so effortlessly, yet I can see you've put so much care and attention to detail into setting the scene of desperation.
Jenny.
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You picture the slippery
You picture the slippery slope well.
There are those who have escaped, but not with 'rosary bead' prayers. Thank God for those who do give gently and sacrificially to try help those in such distress, and of such times in the past too. Rhiannon
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Brilliant rhythm. Poor girl,
Brilliant rhythm. Poor girl, why are some people's lives so wretched? 'A twenty two year old has been' is stirring. I enjoyed the short poignant lines and the rhyming. It's like a series of strikes and mirrors that poor young lady's childhood.
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The rhythm of this made me
The rhythm of this made me think of Rain Street, though it feels a bit like Old Main Drag, too, the drowned dreams
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Thump thump thump
Pounding rhythm and vivid imagery makes this an engrossing piece. Well done Turlough.
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"With giro day's amphetamine.
"With giro day's amphetamine.." A keen piece of social observation. There was a time when I was so skint as a kid I used to buy ciggies in singles from the newsagent on the corner. Not really great days. I felt the pain and the strength of this poem. Paul
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Her Troubles
A very well-drawn character, dragging herself from one day to the next, through the thumping rythum of her life. Clever. Sympathetic. Lots of Irish references made this piece very green. Thank you. Stay well.
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Her Troubles
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