Ronnie McGinn's Poetry Page

Writing instruments have helped humanity to record, history, religion, thoughts, feelings and everything we know about civilization itself. It's been happening since the first cave man scratched on the walls of his cave dwelling.

Some might not agree, but we've come a long way since those days. Today's writing instruments are effective and very sophisticated, whether it's a humble pencil or a state of the art keyboard, a laser printer or a can of spray paint; we take them all for granted.

Every writer has their own particular choice of writing implement. For me it's a pen that fits well in the hand and moves with ease across the paper.

Not as readily available as one might think. There are millions of pens, but ones that become part of oneself are difficult to find, as we all have different needs and views.

Once upon a time I had a Cross pen that served me well. I liked it so much I wore it out. For years I promised myself I'd replace it but never did. Then last week I was presented with beautifully crafted Cross pen by the Ballinlough Community Association. I was flabbergasted! Late that night when the mice were asleep, I let the pen take over.

Little Boy Lost

He's all alone again, tonight,
It can't be easy, being alone,
Being out of mind and out of sight,
A stranger in another's home.

Never mentioned anytime,
Even at a Sunday prayer,
As if being born was his crime
Almost as if, he was not there.

He never saw a Christmas Tree,
Played in sand on sunny days,
Laughed at funnies on TV,
Or grew out of his childish ways.

He never held a lady's hand,
Or lived a dream, like other men,
Built a house from well made plans,
With children to remember him.

No! Long before his dream saw light
They very quietly laid him there
He's all alone again, tonight,
And not a flower anywhere..

© Ronnie McGinn