Ronnie McGinn's Poetry Page
| If you have a poem you'd like to see published in The Irish Examiner then send it to:
The Poetry Corner
The Irish Examiner USA
305 Madison Avenue, Suite 1462
New York
NY 10165
or, preferably, you can email it direct to
ronniemcginn@eircom.net.
If possible keep your poem to 20 lines. You may choose any subject you like, in any form you like as long as it's original. We look forward to hearing from you. |
Our poem this week comes from John O'Connor in New York City. John tells us that he has written a few pieces including ' A London Park Bench ' which got third prize in the Irish Pulp Millennium contest. Proceeds went to the homeless Irish at Arlington House in Camden Town. This piece is called 'Subbies choice' and is about the subbies in London choosing their men for a days shift. All across America this scene is played out each day, but it is mainly hispanic labour. In London up until about 10 years ago if you went to any Broadway in London you'd see literally hundreds of Irishmen lined up in search of the start or the shift. Yes there was exploitation but mostly the arrangement suited the needs of both sides.
Subbie's Choice (You, You And You)
(somewhere in North London, 1967)
The well fed subbie drives up the Broadway,
and pulls up in his truck,
and surveys the line of Paddy's,
who are all down on their luck.
His eyes dart back and forward,
sussing out his prey,
looking at the strength of arms,
and backs that'll earn their pay.
The older men are past their best,
the drink has taken hold,
and the ones with glasses look too smart,
they'll question what they're told.
The subbie looks at footwear,
he wants no shiny shoes,
'a man without muck on his boots,
is as bad as one on booze.'
He'll shy away from paint stains,
he's no doubt a Dublin Jack,
yes when it comes to picking men,
the subbie's got the knack.
He doesn't want the wiry men,
who hail from the Northern Six,
"they're no good for digging holes," he says,
"they should shtick to steel and bricks."
No - the subbie has his prey in sight,
who he thinks will toil the best,
three young brawny, innocents,
like himself from out the West.
He ignores the pleading eyes,
and the begging of a few,
as he points to the three young gasoons,
growling " YOU AND YOU AND YOU."
© John O'Connor
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