Jim Scallan
Jim Scallan Poems
The street urchin selling matches
Matted hair and tattered clothes
A face of pasty grey.
Trying simply to survive
...
Once proud stone walls now choked with tendrils of ivy,
Gaping windows stare forlornly at the leaden sky.
Missing slates let in the winter rain
To trickle slowly through the broken door
...
I looked upon a soft green hill
Newborn lambs just down below
As the mist flows down the forest glen
I have to let it go.
...
The voices of the past surround us
From a forgotten, distant time.
Past generations send their songs to us
In the whisperings of the pines.
...
The chimneypots silhouetted on the evening sky,
Fading shades of blue with passing clouds of pewter grey.
The fall of night in a small town,
The promise of another day.
...
Jim Scallan Biography
The last of the Bards, now resident in the snowy North American wilderness, but whos heart is elsewhere.)
The Best Poem Of Jim Scallan
Street Urchin
The street urchin selling matches
Matted hair and tattered clothes
A face of pasty grey.
Trying simply to survive
And see his sixth birthday.
His mother is just across the road
With her barrow of dark green,
As they make their way down Grafton Street
Always there but seldom seen.
The mist rolls in and they are gone,
Or were they ever there?
As I walk past Trinity College gate
And hear the song upon the air.
I could not see anyone singing
For there was no one in sight,
Only the long lost souls of Dublin
On a misty summer night.
Crying cockles, and mussels,
Alive, alive-O.
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4/19/2024 2:34:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
