Wednesday, 16 November 2011


Sunday morn,
And worn
Is Sis,
As again
Ma will not rise.
No surprise
Is this,
For 'tis her pattern now,
And how
We can predict
The bitter tongue
And pain she may inflict
On those who only try
To make her days go by
With ease.
And though we try to please
And so much we love her,
She has become our child.
Our Mother.


  1. (((HUGS))) Wishing all of you strength, patience and much love as you live with this old child, much loved and cherished. xoxoxo

  2. Thinking of you, whilst I negotiate the same terrain over here....

  3. That was beautiful. And painful.

    Thinking of you, Map...


  4. Great big HUGS! Tis the one thing about adulthood no one warns you about: that you and your parents will one day reverse roles.

    I'm glad she has YOU to look after her. x

  5. My wee son, look not heavenly for the answer to the prayers of those closest to you. Bitterness and bile readily spews forth fae the mouths of those afflicted by the curse of auld age. It is not the intention to hurt or infuriate those around us when the beating wings of the divils demons call out to those amongst us of whom are gifted with the love of caring weans.

    Give not a thought for the feckless or the feckers about us who cause us pain, be it intentionally or through ancient eyes filled only with visions of lost loved wans soon to be reunited.

    Mammy's are the strength given to us at birth, a strength so great that it never leaves our hearts or our souls. Cling to that strength and find the patience that comes with maternal love.

    Strength my friend, a bedfellow and a natural drive that ensures that wee sinners like you and certain pals remain to oul to die young.

  6. Howya?

    Don't listen to that oul fool, Marteen. God, was it not this very morning that oul tadger McGinty was beside himself in the post office drinking his own body weight in pish and the tonic wine? Far too many Shakirs, Fakirs, Shamen, snake oil salesman and ruthless oul feckers ready to steer a man wrong when it comes to the whole life thing and religion.

    Rest your wee arse in front of me a while as I kick off my shoes and try and examine the true meaning of life and all the miserable auld gobshites that walk its very crust. Take me for instance.

    Sister Repugnant came into my room all excited last night and said, "Sister Bridget said she saw you going into several bars and pubs of East Belfast yesterday! What in the name of the little crucified fella are you planning?"

    "Well I was planning to have a shite but none of those Protestant basta's would let me use their toilet."

    Now, before I begin yis can pour me a large glass of something small and make it an expensive wan while yis are at it.

  7. Any chance I could get a tad of sympathy from your readers mate? You know how I like a drama.

  8. The Circle of life.
    God preserve me from it.

  9. Faither McGinty's been hitting the communion wine again.

  10. I'll echo Pat on that one - hugs from me too x