Sutton, County Dublin this morning
Still Allowed To Dream
You look out the front door at a lifeless street
Hardly a car on the road or a leaf on a tree
Very few humans pass by the window
The sky is grey with no hope of a rainbow
As for me, I don’t look where you look
I get inspiration from book after book
I close my eyes and peer inside
Let my imagination be my guide
I enter a world that you’ve never seen
A magical place you wouldn’t believe
With fluffy white rabbits and cute little puppies
Giant marshmallows and chocolate chip cookies
Where love is the law and crime is unheard of
There are no shops, you get loads of free stuff
Smiling is easy ‘cause folk are so friendly
Yoga is practiced so everyone’s bendy
If only you’d turn off the TV and join me
Close your eyes too and come on my journey
Travel with me to the land where I dream
Meet my mystical friends and a fairy queen
It Doesn’t Matter
It Doesn’t Matter I notice my whole family come downstairs everyday with the same jumper on as the day before, and the day before that.
It doesn’t matter. My five year old didn’t bother to put her skirt on. She’s carrying it around the living room draped over her arm.
It doesn’t matter. It looks cloudy and windy outside today. It’s probably gonna rain, lash, pour, thunder, lightning, hail, sleet, sn…
It doesn’t matter. What will we have for dinner later? Well I’m not risking going to the shops again. Whatever we have in the fridge, cupboards, fruit bowl …
It doesn’t matter. The kids haven’t finished their weekly homework from Teacher and they’re going to get a new homework list on Monday.
It doesn’t matter. No one’s gonna correct it anyway…
I Wanna Be An Egg
I wanna be an egg Fry me, sizzle, sizzle
I wanna be an egg Salt me, sprinkle, sprinkle
I wanna be an egg Boil me, hard or soft
I wanna be an egg Crack me, chop my head off
I wanna be an egg Scramble me in your sandwich
I wanna be an egg Add salad to your omelette
I wanna be an egg Spread joy and Easter cheer
I wanna be an egg Behold my gooey interior
I wanna be an egg Versatile and savoury
I wanna be an egg Lay me, sit on me
I wanna be an egg Eat me at your leisure
I wanna be an egg Taste me, guaranteed pleasure
All poems by Eimear Grace.
Lines on the lockdown to broadsheet@broadsheet.ie marked ‘Lines on the Lockdown.
If my 8 year old wrote that egg one I wouldn’t waste bluetac on it.
Amazing Grace, how great thou art
To enthral a wretch like Bertie
He thinks that he is very cool
Pretending not to be flirty…
Thanks Eimear, I like your poetry.
+ 1
You can stick your +1 up yer botty Bodger!
that doesnt rhyme
Bodger can take his plus one,
and shove it where never shines sun.
Thought it was rather sweet actually.
Here’s hoping the crisis ends soon and this diatribe of god-awful poetry comes to an end.
I hereby solemnly swear not to send any more poems to Broadsheet whilst under the influence of copious amounts of red wine. You have my word.
Reminds me of when audience members of the 80’s late late show used to read out poems of how they adored gay Byrne.