conor o gara
2 Travellers In Time - Poem by conor o gara
Christine Mary I have no doubt what so ever that we were meant to meet…
I believe it was more than just pure co-incidence that our paths collided at Molly Malone’s feet on the bottom of Grafton Street.
Me with my hand-made African drum…
You looking for all intents and purposes
What the narrow-minded term a bum.
You were in a spot of bother it seemed.
Wondering where the nearest off-licence was located.
I was lucky I hadn’t been turfed off my current location/spot,
As I hadn’t bothered buying a busking licence.
5 cans a bottle of Jameson and a pack of cigarettes later
A flicker of common-sensical thinking crossed my mind…do I smell danger? ?
O’Gara what the hell are ya at?
“what the hell, no regrets”
“Just point me in the direction of the lighthouse” you said..
Me using my head presume by lighthouse you mean
The bright seafaring sort that help steer wayward ships
Away from danger and into port.
Well that’s the theory of lighthouses anyway.
God knows he put enough lighthouses in my path
Over the years and in 4 days i'm still due up in court.
Off we go out the quays chattin away.
An old traveller girl and a young Dublin boy.
One used to sell E’s by the hundred
Yet it’s the other who’s just out of “the Joy”
The sixth of 25 the eldest of ten getting along like old friends
Until you discover I’m inadvertently leading you astray
(As is my usual way!)
“Christine you never told me the lighthouse was a pub
When you said lighthouse I presumed you meant the marine type”
Whilst pleading my case I simultaneously light up your cigarette in my mouth
In order to offer it as some sort of peace pipe.
You took it well..Both the bad news and the smoke!
If I had been in your shoes I would have been slightly more perturbed
Specially if I had spent the day walking the streets and crossing kerbs.
But you saw the funny side..
Well at least pretended to in any case!
And so eventually we arrived
after swiftly altering our increasingly scenic route.
At your hide-away, your den, HQ, your base
Well for the last 3 nights anyway you told me.
And there it was, your current home,
A neatly folded pile of blankets.
“Thank the Lord” you said
“they hid them away and covered them with cardboard”
a small act of kindness by a Christian group,
they knew of your place because
you frequented their meetings
for sandwiches, human contact and
We sat down and continued to drink and talk
Sure you were knackered after
The un-necessarily long walk.
I opened up my rucksack and out came the djembe
I started to beat a steady rhythm on the drum.
Meanwhile you improvised with
Words sung in a low hum.
My mind drifted…
I thought of all the people sleeping rough
On the un-forgiving streets of the world
At that particular moment in time...
And wondered whose situation was crazier
Theirs, yours or mine?
Comments about 2 Travellers In Time by conor o gara
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye