Niall Boland Poems

The red rose lay on the ground
Knocked from the tree by the small kids
It lay there, what becomes of it
Does it blow away and dissappear
...

I remember the old stories my granddad told
About the dead the dying the brave and the bold
Those who kissed their lives away
To die alone in some war torn bay
...

Gun pressed against the child’s head,
Ain’t it so sad that it came to this,
All that ignorance for bliss
And now things have come to this
...

I have spent my life sitting
watching the sun set
never knowing that if I just stood up
And turned around
...

To those who hear my voice and think they know who I am.
Who, with fragile sight believe they see me
and will not venture beyond the glass
believing the image they see on the surface
...