Do you remember when we playing in the streets of Belfast
All those years ago?
An age of innocence quickly surpassed
As the violence around us would grow
–
Patrolling alleys armed with batons, playing paramilitary games
10 years old and it’s already too late
A child of the times, a childhood in the flames
of violence, death and hate
–
Held down in the bushes, arms pinned to the floor
Forced and scared and alone
Maybe two of them, five years older or more
Carving UDA in my flesh with a stone
–
Another day, another beating, another blow to the head
I’m English so I get what they think I must fear
Another day thinking I’d be better off dead
Its not like I asked to be here
–
Wrong nationality, wrong accent, wrong faith
Wrong time,wrong place, all wrong
Learn to hide in shadows like a ghost, a wraith
Weak when I should have been strong
–
These are people I see every day
They say blood is thicker than water
But blood is harder to explain away
Than the water spilt during torture
–
Hold me down, pouring water into my mouth till I almost drown
Watch me choke and cough and vomit it back out
Then holding my nose, keep pouring it down, pouring it down…
Cannot breathe, cannot win, cannot shout
–
Todays beating in Ormeau park takes place at 4pm
Roll up roll up, See the English boy. On his knees again.
–
And Police sirens keep rushing by
Playing that Belfast lullaby
Echoed explosions, maybe ten
Death walks the night again
–
A book of memories with redacted pages
Belfast days deeply resented
In my head a storm still rages
Which memories are true and which invented
–
And why have the rest of my memories dissolved
Except In my dreams where I kick and fight
50 plus years and still unresolved
still a child trembling in a Belfast night
-
Author:
Tallisman (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 9th, 2024 11:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Doggerel Dave
Offline)
Comments5
Wow !! What a way to capture the changing times in Ireland. Lovely lines there.
Goodnight! I'm favoriting this to keep it, not because it is lovely or charming but graphically tendered as a memento to what they want none to know or remember. Beautifully rendered with ghastly poignancy and haunting imagery in testament to being Irish. Thank you for sharing. It makes my blood begin to boil.
Great to see you back, Tallisman.
As a 'tribute' to the Troubles, that will take some beating. It has a visceral immediacy about it.
'Sorry - but I have to ask: based on actual experience, or imaginative interpretation?
In this case, experience.
Hunted around for an appropriate response, but couldn't find one - plenty of empathy, but no words.
Stay safe.
Such a sad poem - childhood can be so cruel - I hate to think how many children are still going through tough times. I'm sorry you suffered so badly.
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