Loughtagalla Times

Premier Writing showcases poetry, essays and short fiction by new and emerging Irish writers. This week’s featured poet is Gerard James Hough from Tipperary.

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Poetry

poem #19: ‘leaves…’

my mother set me just one
chore, 
one,
one only,
one,
no more.  

every october,
(she would wait you
understand),
for a day when the wind
blew hard against the hands,
& she’d set me to tending,
leaves.  

saying “Here’s your rake, &
there’s your lot”,
smiling,
as if she knew something,
i did not.

sometimes when the
evening refuses my hand,
when melancholy whispers,
“it’s not safe to land”,
i think of the garden,
& mother’s blue rinse,
& i think of the leaves,
i’ve been tending them
since.”

The Broken Dawn: #3 ‘inside out…’

I used to stare out the
window,
whilst dreaming in business
class,
I had little interest in money,
I preferred to watch the time
pass.

til the master would mutter,
with kindness,
“looking out the window
again?”,
whilst pulling the blind,
He’d say, “I know your kind,
if you were outside, you’d be
looking in.”

we are pawns of pure
magnetism,
to gravity’s pull we succumb,
no skill to our journey’s
misgivings,
perpetually pendulum.

each night as I walk through
this city,
the light from a fire draws
me in,
a momentary lapse into
silence,
still wondering where to
begin.

I have dwelt on the turn of a
sixpence,
the light from my lamp
growing dim,
as I fumble my way into
darkness,
inside looking out,
outside, looking in…

poem #6: ‘he always…’

he always put the milk in
first,
see, he came from an era
when jam jars were teacups,
it was a question of safety.

& he raised up a family,
a fraction of his father’s,
& drank in his local
with men of his standing.

& his speech was
considered,
he remembered his
manners,
& other priceless qualities
newfound wealth often
squanders.

he died unexpected,
alone, by the turf fire,
‘he had a good innings’
was all they could muster.

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About the author:

Gerard James Hough is a poet and songwriter from the village of Aglish in North Tipperary.

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