Rita Ann Higgins

Rita Ann Higgins Poems

When he says to you:
You look so beautiful
you smell so nice -
how I've missed you -
...

The demented walk tricky step here
jittery footfall, fractious jibe.
They bicker in the ‘everything for a $ shop'
later when the energy is spent
...

3.

Go to Tuar Beag and sing for her
take only left turns
pass out the whitethorn
but remember to pay homage
...

She didn't mind his toxic tan
or his weasel taste in toothpaste.
What she did mind was
the way he'd Cheshire cat
...

The boy racers
quicken on the Spiddal road
in Barbie Pink souped-ups
or roulette red Honda Civics.
...

Don't throw out the loaves
with the dishes mother,
its not the double-takes so much
its that they take you by the double.
...

Question:
Can you tell me
the way to the maternity?
...

Sorrow is better than laughter,
for by a sad countenance the heart is made better.
ECCLESIASTES
...

Rita Ann Higgins Biography

Rita Ann Higgins, born in Galway in 1955, has published numerous volumes of poetry, as well as several plays. One of 11 children, Higgins left school at 14 and first began to be interested in writing during a long stay in hospital in her 20s. In an interview she described her decision to become a poet with a typical lack of pretension: 'You didn’t have to worry about tenses and verbs. You could write a poem without a verb, and if you didn’t know what a verb was – and I didn’t – it was ok.' Her poems, similarly ironic in tone, have been awarded numerous prizes.)

The Best Poem Of Rita Ann Higgins

The Did-You-Come-Yets of the Western World

When he says to you:
You look so beautiful
you smell so nice -
how I've missed you -
and did you come yet?

It means nothing,
and he is smaller
than a mouse's fart.

Don't listen to him...
Go to Annaghdown Pier
with your father's rod.
Don't necessarily hold out
for the biggest one;
oftentimes the biggest ones
are the smallest in the end.

Bring them all home,
but not together.
One by one is the trick;
avoid red herrings and scandal.

Maybe you could take two
on the shortest day of the year.
Time is the cheater here
not you, so don't worry.

Many will bite the usual bait;
they will talk their slippery way
through fine clothes and expensive perfume,
fishing up your independence.

These are
the did-you-come-yets of the western world,
the feather and fin rufflers.
Pity for them they have no wisdom.

Others will bite at any bait.
Maggot, suspender, or dead worm.
Throw them to the sharks.

In time one will crawl
out from under thigh-land.
Although drowning he will say,
‘Woman I am terrified, why is this house
shaking?

And you'll know he's the one.

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