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
1040 Jackson Avenue, Third Floor
Long Island City
NY 11101
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. |
Two years ago Con Hannigan from from Ballinure in the surburbs of Cork City sent us a lovely ballad style poem about his locality.
Ballinure used to be a quiet little village in the Blackrock area of Cork. It has long since been swallowed up by a growing city and the now lame Celtic Tiger.
Once again Con arouses the emotions by taking us down his own memory lane and triggering off a trickle of nostalgia with an uplifting emotional style that reaches us all.
Ballinure
My thoughts go back to days of yore,
When I was growing up in sweet Ballinure,
And pastimes I knew when a boy,
Hurling and fishing and blackberry picking,
Sure to all of us was a joy,
When weather was fine during summertime,
We'd catch the birds with sprigs of lime,
Then from walls of houses in cages they'd hang,
And all day long their song they sang.
Then on Sunday mornings there was coursing and bowling
And over in Joe Keeffe's there was a good game of hurling,
During summertime when on holidays from school
We spent most of our time swimming, as a rule,
And we'd watch the ships sailing down the Lee
Going to distant lands beyond the sea.
And how we loved the long summer day
When we helped the farmer to save the hay,
And to ride on the float behind the old grey mare,
A, sure they were the days when we hadn't a care.
In autumn when the harvest was ready for
threshing was the greatest time of the year,
And excitement ran high as the thresher arrived
With the steam engine puffing smoke in the air.
Next came Christmas that brought joy to us all ,
With holly and ivy hanging from the wall,
We'd have curnie cake and rasa, and lovely plum pud'
A sure they were they days when everything seemed good.
Then on the day after our savior was born
The Wren Boys would come on Stephen's morn,
And then when the festive time was over,
'Twas back to school for us all once more.
Ballinure boys were hurlers and bright pupils at school
And when it came to the test were always first as a rule,
So now looking back on those days of yore,
They were happy times in sweet Ballinure.
© Con Hannigan
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