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Two Poems

The Story

by Linda Suazo

In a tiny town in the Wicklow hills

A story came to be

A tale so charming and divine

That they could not forsee

~

How many a heart

Throughout the world

Would find itself anew

And open as a bloom in spring

And fellowship pursue

~

The story came to everyone

As gentle, as a prayer

It brought with it, smiles and tears

And joys for us to share.

~

It told of Ambrose Egan

And his call from “up above”

Of beautiful Niamh Quigley

Whom Ambrose chose to love.

~

Of Brendan and Siobhan

And friendship gone too far,

Her love of all God’s creatures

And his searching for his star.

~

And wonderful old Eamon

His kindness to his sheep

Of Brian and his business deals

And secrets he must keep.

~

It gave us Liam and Donal

And the humor of their days

And the trouble they got into

And their double dealing ways.

~

Of Padraig O’Kelly and his son

And the Christmas goat

Of Kathleen at Hendleys store

And her long brown coat.

~

Of Dr. Michael Ryan

Who they loved so much

With a patience for his people

And his kind and gentle touch

~

And then they gave us Father Mac

Whom we learned to hate.

The pain he caused to those we loved

We hoped would be his fate

~

Then they chose to take our hearts

And warm them from above

With a tale of tenderness

And melancholy love.

~

The beautiful Assumpta

And Father Clifford, a man so rare

Began a tender friendship

That loneliness could share

~

She taught him how to drive a car

And sparred with him at length

She trusted him above all else

And reveled in his strength.

~

He came to love her spirit

And her ornery façade.

He gave her space to feel her doubts

About the Church and God.

~

The love that grew, the pain that came

From trying not to feel

Was unwelcome from the start

The sadness was unreal

~

The friendship changed and then one day

Became a love so strong

That he would have to make a choice

That to many would seem wrong.

~

He made the choice and so did she

To love until the end

The joy of those few moments

Will help our hearts to mend

~

Epilogue

Then it was time for her to go

According to the pen

Of writer Kieran Prendiville

And his thoughtless men.

The cry that was heard round the world

The tears that flowed that day

A testament to those who played

The folks in BallyK.

~***~ ~***~ ~***~ ~***~ ~***~ ~***~ ~***~

Poem from a Reminiscing Crone

by Michele H. Lacina (the old crone from NJ

Once upon a time,

not very long ago

I met a town called Ballyk,

and viewed a tv show.

~

It offered wit and wisdom,

It offered heart and tears,

If spoke of life hereafter;

and problems, pain, and fears.

~

But somehow someone changed it,

It's really not the same,

the priest has changed his accent,

and golf is now the game.

~

The smiles are slowly dying,

the violins are slow,

the lilting brogue has deepened,

to a soapy, soppy, show.

~

I say this with all sorrow,

I hate to just complain,

but is this really Ballyk,

has someone gone insane?

~

The sheep all need a shepherd.

The cows are running wild.

The married pair are rowing,

much like a little child.

~

Oh, Ballyk where are you?

I cannot bear to see,

the ruination of what was,

the best thing on tv.

~

I sat and bowed my head in prayer,

I moaned, I sobbed, I cried...

"You have to stop this tragedy

before the river's dry!"

~

A sudden breeze blew past me,

A voice came through the air,

"My child, why do you worry so,

You thought I didn't care?"

~

Of course, I see the problem.

I'm working on it now,

You must have faith in miracles,

like Eamon and his sow.

~

Be brave and follow onward,

tis just a bumpy road.

Before you even notice,

I'll lighten up this load.

~

I still have powers not yet tried,

tricks waiting up my sleeve,

I've gone and whispered gentle words

to Dervla and to Steve.

~

So don't give up,

there's always hope,

I've faith in this, you know,

should Ballyk not change its ways,

there's always VIDEO!