Sunday, October 27, 2019

LostLove© 2019TonyFallon1028


LostLove© 2019TonyFallon1028

I felt our love would never fall apart
When first we became involved
I really thought you were first prize
And my concerns were all solved

There are as many cracks in my heart
As there are red flowers on this tree
And as many teardrops in my eyes
As there are waves on the Irish Sea



Saturday, October 26, 2019

TheSwallow©2018TonyFallon0218 Slightly Revised 10/26/2019

TheSwallow©2018TonyFallon0218
Slightly Revised 10/26/2019

In the cold of October the last apple must fall from the tree
By this time summer is gone and so is the wasp and bee
When it lands far below it's broken and its life is over
The weeds have died on the stalk there is no grass or clover
No birds are singing in leafless trees or in the sullen sky
The winter sure is on its way I wish it was June or July
The neighbors talk of temperature and their aches and pains
If they had more money they could fly to Florida on planes
I remember how much fun we had together in the summer
You just appeared one day in my store you were a newcomer
You were like a breath of fresh air and we both could compose
We sat by the river and read each other poetry and prose
Yet in my heart I somehow knew you would get the urge to leave
You are so like the birds and bees I honestly believe
My heart feels like the apple all broken on the cold ground
I just need plenty of time alone to soothe this unseen wound.
You are not at all like the trees you are more like the fruits
I don't think you and I will ever set down loving roots
To have someone like you at all I never would have guessed
To be with you for one summer I really felt so blessed
So fly away my summer beauty to stay I shall not plea
You are like the birds flying in the sky you have to be free
I realize I'm a silly old man with a young man's notions
You are one of a kind but I will not change your emotions
Maybe just maybe you'll come back in spring relaxed and unstressed
and like a returning swallow seek me for your summer nest.

Friday, October 25, 2019

Carrowkeel, (C) Tony Fallon


Carrowkeel By Tony Fallon.
Goldsmith had a way with words
Whether writing of the sky or birds
His village was deserted or so he said
I cannot quarrel with him he is dead.
I once knew a village just like that
It teemed with fowl dog and cat
Houses with thatch it had only three
But they had special meaning for me
In one was born Maimie Groarke, my mother
And Pat Groarke the runner lived in another.20
In the third were the Daly’s with four lovely nieces
Who broke the local boy’s hearts in pieces
Through this village we all had to pass
When walking to the post office school or mass
It had a holy well the water was always cool,
We drank it often on our way from school
The grownups drank it too when they were sick
The one who brought it couldn’t talk even for a tick
It had a font and on it water we did place
They said the image on it was St Brigid’s face.20
We were told not to remove it not to even try
Cause if it was stolen the well would soon go dry.
The first week of August was a rare occasion
We went to this village on vacation
My uncle and aunt had a big white horse
I always wanted to ride him of course.
Long summer days we helped save the hay
Or helped with the thrasher on an autumn day
What you did at night was not a major decision
There was no electricity so there was no television30
The men went hunting rabbits with a carbide lamp
Whether the weather was warm or damp
While the women squeezed butter from the churn
And made sure the currant cake didn’t burn
Later stories were told around the fire all night
For those were the days before electric light
We learned checkers or cards from our hosts,
And were badly frightened by tales of ghosts.
Often if enough ramblers did arrive,
The adults might play poker or twenty-five,40
We children weren’t allowed to make a sound
As the pot might often be more than a pound.
Twas many a poor farmer lost a fiver or tenner
Another might win a goose for Sunday dinner.
Risky playing meant you went home broke
Without the price of a drink or a Woodbine smoke
The next morning we might be wishing,
We wouldn’t have to work but instead go fishing
We didn’t look forward to the shovel or spade
But we never refused Cidona or Lucozade.50
A little bit of work gave us an awful thirst
And we’d drink Cidona ‘til we nearly burst.
The shop was near oh what a dream
We were sometimes treated to ice cream
I didn’t even have a bicycle but they had a car
They took me for drives near and far
Then I don’t know if they used the word groovy
But that’s how I felt when in town for a movie.
When I grew up I went over the foam
And every so often I’d go back home60
The houses are all down not a sign of a shed
And all who lived there are now dead
Cattle graze where once there was tillage.
It’s just a town land now its no longer a village
No more I heard the curlews cry
Or watched the pigeons feed or fly.
Never more we’ll hunt the wren
Or see the cows come home again.
No more I’ll see a goose or duck
And in the field no tractor or truck70
There’s no sign of a plow
A pig bonham or sow.
There’s no hen to lay eggs
There’s no clothesline with pegs.
No potatoes are sowed
No meadows are mowed
No vegetables could I see
Where is the old apple tree?
There no meow and no bark
And I didn’t hear the lark.
And since there is no house,
What happened to the mouse?
I couldn’t hear the sound of a cricket,
Or hear rabbits run through a thicket.
There was no sign or a ewe or a ram
No more roasting the tail of the lamb.
No bullocks or calves in the rusty old pen
I didn’t see one gosling or a guinea hen
The well is fenced in by barbed wire
There’s no turf in the garden for a fire.90
I couldn’t hear the bleat of a lamb
Or see fruit for strawberry jam.
I had no interest in counting the stock
I didn’t have to hide from a turkey cock.

There’s was no sign of a donkey or horse
And there are no people and that’s even worse.
There’s was no sign at all of the customs of yore
There’s no friendly face no welcome door.
There’s been a lot of changes over the years,
And it won’t be changed back by my tears.100
Yes when I leave there I always feel so sad
Cause of all it meant to me as a lad.
I can’t help it that’s just how I feel.
Whenever I visit Carrowkeel.



Thursday, October 24, 2019

The Garden of Eden©2019TonyFallon1024

The Garden of Eden©2019TonyFallon1024

The Garden of Eden was in a land far away
All the Two tenants had to do was worship and pray
There was Adam who was Irish his name was O'Shea
And then there was fair Miss Eve who was his fiancee
They could eat loads of fruit and did not have to repay
They could eat hearty meals and for dessert have soufle
God said if they behaved themselves they could forever stay
But they'd be out on their ass if they should not obey

So when Eve took an big apple off the sacred tree
It left God no othher choice but to go to Plan B

So God said to Adam there will be no more buffet
No free soup no free salad and no more free entree
After sinning they were told to be out of there by May
And since God was the Landlord there was no ten day stay
The lovely Garden of Eden has vanished they say
After the sinners eviction it went into decay
Not many people know God had a car to convey
Because it says in the bible he drove them away

Poem #685©2019TonyFallon1023


Poem #685©2019TonyFallon1023

Events have happened recently
And my thoughts are upside down
I am restrained by negativity
And I don’t know where to turn

I’m on my island all alone
The summer birds have flown
I’m like Napoleon stranded
My lifeboat has not landed

I always treat people decently
And you rarely see me frown
I’m usually full of creativity
I hope good ideas soon return

I’m on my island all alone
The summer birds have flown
I’m like Napoleon stranded
My lifeboat has not landed

Monday, October 21, 2019

Michael Beirne’s Prompt©2019TonyFallon1021


Michael Beirne’s Prompt©2019TonyFallon1021

I know Michael Beirne is educated and in his own right a poet
He gave me hints on a subject and subsequently I wrote
There’s a Bog in Ballybrick or so Michael Beirne claims
But you can’t trust Michael Beirne he may be up to his games
I know he’s a Roscommon man which led me to certain conclusions
He’s probably like myself often prone to exaggeration and illusions
From what I know about the bog it’s probably on the plains of Boyle
Two miles outside the town between Frank Beattie and Sean Doyle
He says there are hundreds of whin bushes more than meet demand
They are clearly out of control on the bog and on Sean Doyle’s land
Not many people would be copulating there in any form or fashion
And they certainly could not expect in there any masochistic passion


Thursday, October 17, 2019

IntrovertsOrExtroverts©2019TonyFallon1017


IntrovertsOrExtroverts©2019TonyFallon1017


Introverts and extroverts have different personality
On the best of days there is so much individuality
One wants to go out at night and party the other stay at home
One is happy by a homey fireside the other wants to roam
The introvert can read and be totally rejuvenated
But ask them to listen to tedium they become frustrated
The extrovert wants to be the life of the party and excel
And if things are going too quiet he might just want to raise hell
He'll throw his energy into the party with vim and vigor
He will want the party on the floor to get bigger and bigger
Either one can be smart as a whippet yet easily annoyed
And potentially great relationship are easily destroyed
The introvert will let the other enjoy when they run out gas
But if you should ever cheat them you will be thrown out on your ass
They frequently are artistic types but rarely egotistic
If they should be a woman you better not be chauvinistic
They are worried about the future yet are rooted in the past
And often worry about the filth and garbage we have amassed
'Tis often said they are not people people which of course is rubbish
Their brain is so fast analyzing yours would be deemed as sluggish
All my friends say I'm an extrovert and I'm new to this debate
But I met the most interesting introvert on a spring date


Tuesday, October 15, 2019

The 73rdAngel ©TonyFallon1015




The 73rdAngel ©TonyFallon1015

In a day for all of the angels there's just seventy two
I checked the list over twice that can't really be true
Three special angels are given twenty minutes of each hour
And in those twenty minutes they have angelic power
I checked once more all those seventy two names on the list
I shouted up to heaven “there is someone you have missed”
For there is one human angel residing on our street
The one of a kind angel I had always hoped to meet
People who heard me shouting must have thought I was insane
Because I was shouting up to God "you forgot about Jane"

Monday, October 14, 2019

The warm Hand©2019TonyFallon1014


The warm Hand©2019TonyFallon1014

I want to hold a warm hand
And I want it to be yours
If the holding is unplanned
I will know our love endures

Sometimes a touch can surprise
When it is not expected
With real love in your eyes
The same in mine reflected

So long I've waited for you
But it was worth that long wait
Because your love is so true
As we blend we conjugate

Saturday, October 5, 2019

You©2019TonyFallon1005


You©2019TonyFallon1005


Since I met you one day months ago

I can’t sleep at night

I’m afraid if I fall asleep

You might just take flight



I’d been waiting your appearance

You are as fresh as a daisy

If I let you get away

I’d be downright crazy



I bet when your friends gather

Your thoughts are so prolific

Your bubbly smile a magnet

Your analysis so terrific