Da's Gone Grey like Ma

[20_Hamilton_18]

Hey all, glad to be here, I’ve written on and off for the last 15 years or so, just recently started to get back into it after dropping out of University, running pubs and bars for the last six years and having a mental and physical breakdown. My therapist told me to get back into writing and six months down the line I finally feel ready to do so.  Just taking the first few tentative steps back into this world which I was once very involved with. Don’t mind feedback as long as the destruction allows the reconstruction

Johnny

Revision #2

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.
                         -An old Irish Blessing found
                                on tea-towels across the Country

Ma washing a wardrobe
for all occasions, a sea
of white linen, salt-caked
shirt cuffs, starched collars,
trousers rolled just how I like
'em, an her frail hands
rattling oul suitcase, packed
ever so gentle.

Taste
of tatty bread
stuck
behind teeth.
 


Kettle shrills

“Y’ll have a cuppa won’t ye?
An a wee biscuit go on
go on know ye will”

Pockets
crumb burdened,
Ma’s parfam;
eau de Lourdes
avec rose
follows me till
the door.

"Ock aye,
but y'll be back won't ye
lad?"

Da driving me
till the station
St. Christopher brokers a
solemn silence
from his vantage point
sat piously on
the battered dashboard.

Ain't seen the oul bastard cry,
nat seen 'im since...



"Y'll be alright son,
remember yer catechism
an don't forget to pray"

Boys a dear,
fifty six and counting,
grey like ma, suppose
her colour went early,
his took a little longer…

Hands shake into
tentative hug, a
brief smile

“And until we meet again
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.”






Revision #1


Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.

Aye well, left didn't I?
A cacophony followed

"Ock aye,
but y'll be back won't ye
lad?"

Ma washing a wardrobe
for all occasions, a sea
of white linen, salt-caked
shirt cuffs, starched collars,
trousers rolled just how I like
'em, an her frail hands
rattling oul suitcase, packed
ever so gentle.

Taste of homemade
tatty bread
stuck
behind teeth.
Kettle shrills

“Y’ll have a cuppa won’t ye?
An a wee biscuit go on
go on know ye will”

Pockets
crumb burdened,
Ma’s parfam;
eau de Lourdes
avec rose
follows me till
the door.

Da driving me
till the station,
ain't seen the aul bastard cry,
nat seen 'im since...

"Y'll be alright son,
remember yer catechism
an don't forget to pray"

Boys a dear,
fifty six and counting,
grey like ma, suppose
her colour went early,
his took a little longer…
Hands shake
tentative hug
brief smile

“And until we meet again
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.”



Original Version



Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.

Aye well, left didn't I?
A cacophony followed

"Ock aye,
but y'll be back won't ye
lad?"

Ma washing a wardrobe
for all occasions, a sea
of white linen, salt caked
shirt cuffs, starched collars
trousers rolled just how I like
'em, an her frail hands
rattling aul suitcase packed
ever so gently...

Da driving me till the station,
ain't seen the aul bastard cry,
nat seen 'im since...

"Y'll be alright son,
remember 'ure catechism
an don't forget yer prayers"

Fifty six and counting,
grey like ma, suppose
her colour went early,
his took a little longer..

Not hard to imagine,
things don't change,
time just keeps ticking
and they just keep on
keeping on.

And until we meet again
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

[Leanne]

Hi Johnny, welcome aboard.  I'm moderately confused by the dialect -- the prayer/blessing is Irish but the rest of it sounds Scottish -- and yet your title starts the journey in Belfast -- ach well, I'm just going to assume Celtic fan and not worry about it anymore

I enjoyed your poem.  I'd like to see it a bit more strongly sensory so that the memory comes through more clearly.  

Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
Go raibh an ghaoth go brách ag do chúl
Go lonraí an ghrian go te ar d'aghaidh
Go dtite an bháisteach go mín ar do pháirceanna
Agus go mbuailimid le chéile arís,
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.

Aye well, left didn't I?
A cacophony followed

"Ock aye, -- och or ach is the more usual spelling
but y'll be back won't ye
lad?" -- this is a poignant contrast to the prayer, a pleading really

Ma washing a wardrobe
for all occasions, a sea
of white linen, salt caked -- salt-caked
shirt cuffs, starched collars -- maybe a comma here
trousers rolled just how I like
'em, an her frail hands
rattling aul suitcase packed
ever so gently... -- evocative scene but mostly just visual -- I'd really like to see the addition of some other senses in this to set the reader right in the poem

Da driving me till the station,
ain't seen the aul bastard cry,
nat seen 'im since...

"Y'll be alright son,
remember 'ure catechism  -- is this your catechism or our catechism?  I only ask because on the next line you spell your as yer, and if it's our then I'd suggest the more usual spelling of oor.  Dialect is hard
an don't forget yer prayers"

Fifty six and counting,
grey like ma, suppose
her colour went early,
his took a little longer.. -- three dots for an ellipsis -- oh yes, I'm really that pedantic!

Not hard to imagine, -- is this line really needed?
things don't change,
time just keeps ticking
and they just keep on
keeping on. -- bit of a cliche here that throws me out of the moment

And until we meet again
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand. -- I think these lines are well known enough in Gaelic to use that as a bookend instead of shifting to English, but that is probably just a personal thing

[20_Hamilton_18]

Thank you for the feedback, really appreciate the little nits picked and look forward to using them in any revisions I may or not make. To clear one comment up I'm not too sure how much you're aware of the idiosyncrasies of Northern Ireland but throughout there is a strong influence on one side of the coin of the Irish and on the other you have the impact of the Ulster Plantation in which there was an influx of Scottish settlers that forever impacted upon our unique culture. So we have both an Irish and Scottish tinge to how we speak. On paper that can seem a little confusing especially given the use of the Irish Language but trying to be true to how my subject speaks is the reasoning behind it.

Cheers

Johnny

[20_Hamilton_18]

Made a few slight revision, these can be found in the original post

[Knot]

Hi Johnny (or Hamilton)

I really enjoyed this, and would like more of it
(interior of the car, landmarks on the way to the station, etc,.)
- but that's just me.
Where it doen't work for me is the title, as only Belfast features,
and I'd suggest the last line (or the last two lines) as an alternative.
I think they carry an emotional weight that the list of place names
simply does not.
I don't know if it's even possible, but if you could figure out how
you might get this piece to start with 'Ma washing a wardrobe'
...It would make such a wonderful first line.


Go n-éirí an bóthar leat
...
Go gcoinní Dia i mbos A láimhe thú.
Not sure google translate does this justice
(but never mind)

Aye well, left didn't I?
A cacophony followed
Either a 'when' you left or a
'how long' the cacophony lasted', I think.
It's just a couple of lines too short to bridge
the gap from verse 1/intro to 3.

Ma washing a wardrobe
for all occasions, a sea of white linen,
salt-caked shirt cuffs, starched collars,
trousers rolled just how I like 'em,
an her frail hands rattling
oul suitcase, packed ever so gentle.
All the above is excellent, character and scene in one.
[The] taste of homemade tatty bread
home-made is a bit of an interruption (to the alliteration)
[still] stuck behind [my] teeth.
(behind or between?)

"Ock aye,
but y'll be back won't ye
lad?"

Kettle shrills
“Y’ll have a cuppa won’t ye?
An a wee biscuit go on
go on know ye will”
Was the Father Ted reference deliberate?

[C]rumb burdened pockets, Ma’s parfam;
eau de Lourdes avec rose follows me
(is eau de Lourdes real? if not excellent invention)
[out to the car]. Da driving me
till the station. Boys a dear, fifty six
(Boy's ?)
and counting, grey like ma, suppose
her colour went early, his took a little longer…
like these two lines.
Hands shake tentative hug brief smile
Perhaps unpack this line a little?
ain't seen the aul bastard cry,
nat seen 'im since...

"Y'll be alright son,
remember yer catechism
an don't forget to pray"

“And until we meet again
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.”


Best, Knot.

[Leanne]

That makes sense, and you've sorted the inconsistencies in dialect (don't want to tell you how you should talk, just want to make sure it's written right ). I've not been to Northern Ireland but have spent a lot of time in Glasgow where the Irish (from both halves) abound, so the similarities certainly make sense. I really enjoyed your revisions.

And dammit, it's nearly breakfast time and now I want some tatty bread.

[Leanne]

-An old Irish Blessing found on tea-towels across the Country

[20_Hamilton_18]

Hey Knot,

Glad to make your acquaintance, thank you so much for both your time and your feedback, really good shout re opening this with Ma, I have a propensity to dislike the scissors when it comes to my writing but have actually cut the majority of the initial opening with a revision. Father Ted reference was indeed intentional, I'm not a fan of comedic poetry but I do like to have a bit of humour in my work where I can.

Boys a dear is a strange piece of terminology in the North of Ireland it's pretty much us saying "oh dear", "shit" , etc, etc.

Anyway thank you for the time again and I've already been able to use some of it to help improve this

Johnny

P.S. Leanne I always have a craving for Potato Bread but for some reason I can never quite make it like my Mother does and I think it would be a weird thing for me to ask her to send in the post. Oh well