I WAS IN MY BED IN 69
A BLANKET OF SHATTERED
GLASS WAS MINE.
THAT SHOTTING BULLET
OF RICOCHETED FEAR
A CATHOLIC CHILD
IN A PROTESTANT FRONTIER.
I HEARD THE CRIES…
AS I DIVED UNDER THE BED
“OUT FENIAN BASTARDS
WE WANT YOUR HEAD”
DADDY CAME IN
A CALMING WHISPER
CHECKING HIS CHILDREN
FROM THIS FACELESS SNIPER.
“BE STILL, DON’T MOVE
NOR MAKE A SOUND,,
PRAYING TO GOD
WE WON’T BE FOUND.
TO ALL WHO CLAIM
IT WAS THE BEST EVER ERA,
FOR ME IT WAS
A CHILDHOOD OF HYSTERIA.
OH I WAS THERE
AT THE AGE OF EIGHT
THOSE MEMORAL SIXTIES
THE DECADE OF HATE.
MAKE LOVE NOT WAR
THE HIPPIES CRIED
TIMES OF FLOWER POWER
WHEN THE CHILD
IN ME DIED.
Author notes
This was written as a memory of what happened one night when our home was the target for a sectarian attack.
It had happen on many occasions, with petrol bombs, bullets and stones. Our routine was to dive onto the floor, or hide in the cubbyhole beneath the stairs.
It was the war of 1969 in the North of Ireland. It was the highlight of the hippie era when they sang
of love etc,i never saw it, this was all that i recalled from then.
In a list
A contest entry
- GIVE ME A WAR POEM by manoguru.
500 points, ended July 3, 2007, 14 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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I got shivers of fright as i read that. I'm so glad you found an outlet to express such horrific experiences. God bless you (i mean the god of all people; catholic, protestant, jewish, muslum and the rest)
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i notice some changes in the poem. how come you didn't notify me? in the 7th line, "PRODESTANT" should be "protestant".
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WOW
How traumatizing for you and your family. I'm sure you'll never forget it either. Good luck in this contest!!! Pace and Love - Cyn
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I was in a war on the other side of the earth,
pretty poor showing of humanity on both respects. I weep for the child you were and applaude the woman you are. My love extends back through the years to hold the child of fear in a blanket of love.
Love, Buddy
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wow
what a memory... thanks for sharing
take care my friend,
Kj
PS. I found out yesterday my Dad's mother was Irish (from Belfast) so I guess that makes me Irish too (1/4). So... keep the place green, eh... and I'll be by for a Guinness one day!
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my first impression was, "why in the world is s/he capitalizing each words?" the capitalization presents a harshness while reading, but maybe that was what you had intended.
i know what it is to live in a brink of poverty, but as a child i never had to experience racial voilence. sadly we now get plenty of it. from a child's perspective, this poem captures these moods very well, which ultimately forces a child to prematurely grow up. the first 3 lines make a very winning opening. i appreciate the irony of living though racial violence during the era of "flower power"... strange isn't it?
"FOUIND" in line 11 should be "found". also you have used quite a number of end-rhymes. but i won't disqualify this poem since they seem incidental and don't occur in a pattern.
lastly, i think you can improve the middle part a bit by adding some more concrete details. and the ending, although is climatic and has a fitting mood, its sonic aspects clumsy because you have built up a very good sound structure in the previous parts by using mostly assonce and slant rhymes.
overall this is a poem full of potentials.
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You bring tears again, thinking you had to live this and against the backdrop of the rest of the world crying out for love and peace. I can understand it falling on deaf ears then.
Love, C
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WOW, I have read books and been told stories about the sectarian attacks, but you have truly given me a whole new perspective on the era...I was born in Dec 1969 so none of this time has personally affected me, although many family members were killed and injured. Good Luck in the contest
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