Anne Gildea: Blog

05 Apr 15

A GANSEY FOR EASTER

My love for you is like a frog

Gobbing into a bog hole

A big frog spit

Sitting into the bog

Fitting into it

The bog

That hugh brown arse of Mother Nature

Where we get the turf to light the fires

We light at night

When the weather is shite

Outside the door

To my heart is always open

Come on in and sit by my big hair

As I spin this woolly stuff

To make a great gansey for your big chest

That’s big as a field

And hairy as a hawthorn bush

Come on in and take onto yourself  this 100% wool hand-knit garment Of my love

Knit from the fleece of my 100% sheep that I keep above

On those two mountains

Those great tits of Mother Nature

That swell from the well of the womb of the earth to give birth

To this big jumper I’m knitting you

Come on in and pull this big feckin’ jumper over your head

Come on in and be a baneen man for me

Put your big bull’s chest into my hand-knit

And I’ll go like a mad ould heifer into your field

Throwing up my feet in a great reel

Round the hugh stump of your fairy tree

Then we’ll go a steppin’ where the ground gets soft

To the place where things like the Tara Brooch get lost

And found again

Centuries later

To be over there in that big Museum in Kildare Street in Dublin

Let us meet in that bog-like place

The bog

Where I am like a frog

Sitting,  spitting,  spinning and knitting

A great big sheepy jumper of love for you.

04 Apr 15

A biscuit poem of years und yearen  ago:

Shall I compare thee to a tin of biscuits my love

Yes !

If you were a tin of biscuits on the shelf in Dunne’s

I’d shop lift you out

‘Cause I don’t have any money

But I’d want your assortment in my mouth So much

That the love-light in my eyes

Would blind the security guard as I carried you by

Under my anorak

And he would not attack with Oi !

For he would know

You were not an illict present for my granny

But rather

That I was a looney

In love with a tin of biscuits.

And  I wouldn’t feel shy or diabetic

About ripping off your lid

I’d do it in the Dunne’s Store car park

‘Cause I’d just have to have a go

At your gingernuts and your chocolate rings

For if you were a tin of biscuits my love

I’d be a bulimic on a binge.

03 Apr 15

I have the leg of a donkey

The ear of a pig

The foot of a goose

The knee of an insect

The head of a goat

What am I?

 

Not good-looking, that’s for sure.

2 Apr ’15

Because I could not stop for soap –

It kindly stopped for me –

The carriage held but just ourselves –

And some suds.