Ronnie McGinn's Poetry Page

If you've been across the sea to Ireland this summer, you may well have thought you travelled through time and arrived in the wrong season.

Wind and rain, with dashes of suspicious sunshine followed by showers of hopelessness and gales of recession have permeated the emerald atmosphere with the scent of negativity over the past few months.

So what else is new? Nothing really but there was a feeling of wanting to put on the slippers, sit close to the fire, get a good book and let the world take care of itself. Speaking of slippers...

"Me Slippers"

Me slippers is tattered and battered and torn,
But they're cosy and comfy and really well worn.
They're a part of me life and a part of me soul,
An like just like me self, show signs of growin'old.

They have they're own scent, that is ever so cute;
There's a mix of stale tea with Jeys' Fluid and Brute,
And all them white spots that send your eyes reeling,
They're there since the night that I painted the ceiling.

The back of the left one you can still see the tear,
It happened the night I fell up the stairs,
Oh thank God that it wasn't too hard to conceal,
A small bit of duct tape soon covered the heel.

There's a hole by the toe, where the dog used to chew on
And a stain by the side, where the cat did his poo on,
The scorch marks were made by a spark from the fire,
And the fancy design? Me neighbours back tire!

Oh! The sweet memories of the days that is gone,
Ah! Once they were new, looked expensive and strong
But now they are old and tattered and torn,
And just like meself they're all battered and worn.

© Ronnie McGinn