see Ambrose HarteScattered Thoughts 2

All poems and stories are my own work unless otherwise stated. I am a married man and live in Ireland.

[scatteredthoughts2]

A Butterfly Without Wings.

My daughter came to visit today,

But I was locked inside my head,

Just staring out at clouds of grey

And begging God to strike me dead.

She sits beside me and talks to me,

She holds my hands; she tells me things,

But that I'm locked up, she cannot see,

I'm a butterfly, but I have no wings.

I'm talking away but she cannot hear,

I make no sound because my lips are sealed,

I want to ask her to ease my fear,

So that's what's inside me can be revealed.

She wheels me out to sit on the deck,

The clouds have lifted, the sun shines down,

Whilst inside my head, I am going berserk,

I'm so trapped inside the face of a clown.

She is leaving now, she will call next week,

And maybe the others will come to call,

But what's the point when I cannot speak,

I'll just wheel myself down this lonely hall.

@Ambrose Harte

@Scatteredhoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

Evil Things.

Goblins and daemons and evil things,

Trolls and Ogres and beasts with wings,

Lands of brimstone and fire and sulphur,

Screeches and screams and begging for succour.

Man-made monsters of gears, cogs and chains,

Mad Hungry Zombies searching for brains,

Banshees singing the hymns of the dead,

And laughing hyenas that fill you with dread.

Reposing Vampires asleep in their tombs,

Monsters in closets invading kids rooms,

Ghosts on the stairs to guide you to bed,

And cannibals drooling to eat you instead.

Frankenstein's monster wakes up on his slab,

The mad, crazy scientist with concoctions to jab,

Mummies all swathed in bandages so dirty,

And Siren's at sea all singing so flirty.

Aliens land in your garden at night,

The mythical Gorgon has you in his sight,

Dragons breath fire that burn up the earth,

And Gargoyles stand guard over mansions of death.

Here are some monsters ( I have named just a few ),

There are others out there who would love to get you,

But beware when you leave to go to the store;

The most evil of all, could be living next door.

©Ambrose Harte

Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

These are a few of the Daemons I dread,

And they call every night as I cower in bed,

They come under the door and invade my own room,

And they fill up my head with torture and gloom.

[scatteredthoughts2]

Shadows

I don't know what is happening,

But I know it's something bad,

And I know that when it's over,

I'll be broken, beat and sad.

Even though I see it coming,

I cannot change its course,

It is always bound to happen;

A relentless, heartless force.

Though I pray for intervention,

My prayers are all for nought,

And this fight I dare not mention,

Is a fight not to be fought.

I know that when it's over,

There'll be nothing left of me,

Just a shadow of myself;

Of the self I used to be.

Ambrose Harte

Scattered Thoughts

[amy-winehouse-in-suburbia]

💗

[scatteredthoughts2]

Talking with Angels.

———————–

————————

The softest whispers of the snow,

Angels breath to tell me so,

A loss that fills me, heart and soul,

That n'er again can I be whole.

————————

An emptiness that can’t be filled,

A shivering that can’t be stilled,

A silence only I can hear,

And loneliness that’s so hard to bear.

———————-

How strange it feels now that you are gone,

I’m not so sure I can carry on,

The dark is scary and I need your touch,

This emptiness is way too much.

———————–

They talk of how we’ll meet again,

How love can conquer every pain,

But they are wrong, and this I know,

Because the angels told me so.

———————–

Ambrose Harte

Scattered Thoughts 2

———————–

[scatteredthoughts2]

AIDAN MOORE'S BAR AND LOUNGE

I wish I was back in auld Mullingar,

And my first stop would be Aidan Moore's Bar,

Just a bit up the road from the Dublin train,

And again, I could walk down memory lane.

I would hear talk of dogs and the times that they'd done,

Of the races they'd lost, that they wished they had have won,

Characters there of every type,

And if you didn't drink porter, you could buy a fine pipe.

My Uncle Frank was the head barman there,

And myself and Joe Glennon would pour you your beer,

" Banana Kelly " and " Jimmy the Hat ",

Would soon let you know if the Guinness was flat.

The " Ton McDonagh " was a favourite of mine,

A gentleman so true, a gentleman so fine,

Many's the laugh and the joke we did share,

And many's the time that he bought me a beer.

Joe Conway and Mick Doyle had everyone dancing,

Old couples swooning and once more romancing,

Ted Burke and his brothers, Fianna Gael, to the end,

Fianna Fail, Aidan Moore, would " stoutley " defend.

Jim Dalton, Sine Fein, stayed quiet on his stool,

And debated which one was the far bigger fool,

And the " Little Red Hen ", ( Liz Collins by name ),

On her roost in the corner, said they all were the same.

" Love Letters in the Sand " sang our friend Jimmy Finn,

( As my uncle Frank reached for the bottle of gin ),

In Aidan Moore's Bar, there was laughter and craic,

It brings tears to my eyes when e'er I look back.

Those were the days that we left far behind,

But I just close my eyes, and they're fresh in my mind,

Many's the pint and the pipe that I sold,

And many's the story and tall tale that was told.

@Ambrose Harte

@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

Evil Things.

Goblins and daemons and evil things,

Trolls and Ogres and beasts with wings,

Lands of brimstone and fire and sulphur,

Screeches and screams and begging for succour.

Man-made monsters of gears, cogs and chains,

Mad Hungry Zombies searching for brains,

Banshees singing the hymns of the dead,

And laughing hyenas that fill you with dread.

Reposing Vampires asleep in their tombs,

Monsters in closets invading kids rooms,

Ghosts on the stairs to guide you to bed,

And cannibals drooling to eat you instead.

Frankenstein's monster wakes up on his slab,

The mad, crazy scientist with concoctions to jab,

Mummies all swathed in bandages so dirty,

And Siren's at sea all singing so flirty.

Aliens land in your garden at night,

The mythical Gorgon has you in his sight,

Dragons breath fire that burn up the earth,

And Gargoyles stand guard over mansions of death.

Here are some monsters ( I have named just a few ),

There are others out there who would love to get you,

But beware when you leave to go to the store;

The most evil of all, could be living next door.

©Ambrose Harte

Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

These are a few of the Daemons I dread,

And they call every night as I cower in bed,

They come under the door and invade my own room,

And they fill up my head with torture and gloom.

[scatteredthoughts2]

A Writers Tears.

Perhaps I should only cry,

If what I write is true and sad,

Of all the times I have said goodbye,

To all the friends I have ever had.

My sweetest and my saddest tears,

Are for those I truly loved the most,

The memories of all those years;

So bitter sweet, the years I've lost.

And yet! Somedays I find,

Serenity comes over me,

Thoughts and words of the sweetest kind,

Brings me back to where I want to be.

And then I look around;

I'm on a barstool in a darkened bar,

And the inspiration I have found,

Is in the bottom of a whiskey jar.

[scatteredthoughts2]

The Simple Things In Life.

The simple things in life,

Have a meaning I so love,

My daughters, sons and wife,

Are a blessing from above.

When I hear their friendly bantering,

I put my book down for a while,

Their laughs are so enchantering,

And I can not help but smile.

I wish that I could tell them,

How much to me, they mean,

Because I hear them oh so seldom,

And I'm not the dad I should have been.

But God works in mysterious ways,

And He has given me the time,

To make amends for my wayward days,

And to treasure what is mine.

[scatteredthoughts2]

[ambroseharte]

The First Day Back ( a rewrite ).

The first day back was the hardest; I had never gone to school alone, And when they asked me where you were, I just stared at them with eyes of stone. I stood alone in the playground noise, I was lost and hurting and I cried, I searched for you in every face; You were only six and should not have died. A nun I knew asked me why, Why I was alone and sad, And when she held me close, It was the sweetest cry I ever had. I could scent the mothballs on her robes, As she gently held my head, And a look of horror veiled her face, When I told her you were dead. She stayed with me all through recess, She stayed with me and held my hand, And her eyes were brimming, full of tears, As she turned her golden wedding band. The school bell  rang; recess was over, She said she was sorry that you were dead, And I asked why God had taken you, When he could have taken me instead. ——————————————- Marius Harte 30/ 9/ 1959  -  10/ 8/1965 ——————————————– I am older now and the years roll on, The seasons’ change and the fruits mature, Sunshine and snowflakes are where you lie,  And we’ll meet again; of that I’m sure.

A rewrite. For my brother Marius. ( my avatar )

Ambrose Harte Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

All the useless things I have ever done

( Leonard Cohen )

I can not go on,

With these thoughts inside my head,

I am what I am,

And I wish that I was dead.

I don't know what to do,

I'm afraid to say goodbye,

I want to keep on living,

And yet, I'm wishing I could die.

You meet me in the street,

You say I'm good and strong,

And I try to do what's right,

But you know I'm doing wrong.

I see pity in your eyes,

When you stop to say hello,

But you know who I am,

You know where I'm going to go.

Why is a man like me,

Doing this unto himself,

When the man you think I am,

Is just dust upon a shelf.

My room is full of books;

In their tales I try to hide,

Sometimes, I am the hero,

But I'm the villain deep inside.

Yes! I am the only one who's guilty,

Yes! Me! And me alone,

A monster through and through,

And that's why I'm on my own.

@Ambrose Harte

@@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

A Ghostly Love.

You were my friend, my bestest friend,

And then ,one day, it came to an end,

I remember the day, we went out to play,

And the very next day, you were gone far away.

Nobody told me, and I searched through and through,

I went to all of the places that only we knew,

But the places were empty, and I felt so lost,

For the love of my life, now is only a ghost.

@ Ambrose Harte.

@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

All the useless things I have ever done

( Leonard Cohen )

I can not go on,

With these thoughts inside my head,

I am what I am,

And I wish that I was dead.

I don't know what to do,

I'm afraid to say goodbye,

I want to keep on living,

And yet, I'm wishing I could die.

You meet me in the street,

You say I'm good and strong,

And I try to do what's right,

But you know I'm doing wrong.

I see pity in your eyes,

When you stop to say hello,

But you know who I am,

You know where I'm going to go.

Why is a man like me,

Doing this unto himself,

When the man you think I am,

Is just dust upon a shelf.

My room is full of books;

In their tales I try to hide,

Sometimes, I am the hero,

But I'm the villain deep inside.

Yes! I am the only one who's guilty,

Yes! Me! And me alone,

A monster through and through,

And that's why I'm on my own.

@Ambrose Harte

@@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

LOOKING BACK.

An old friend I met the other day,

Asked me to write a poem,

About old Patrick Street, where we did play,

And all the people we have known.

Looking back was bitter sweet,

And I cried nostalgic tears,

For all of us in Patrick Street,

And the passing of the years.

I closed my eyes and I could see,

What we were like in years gone by,

When we were wild and so carefree,

And never thought that time could fly.

We lived in the day; one day at a time,

And we wandered near and far,

Along the canal and the railway line,

And all over Mullingar.

For us, these days would never end,

We never thought about tomorrow,

We didn't know what lay around the bend;

All the heartache and the sorrow.

We thought back then that you couldn't die,

And that life went on and on,

We laughed and played 'neath a cloudless sky,

Our days filled with endless fun.

Declan and Joe, Ber and Sis,

And the Farrels down the lane,

All the friends that I now miss,

Fills my heart with gnawing pain.

For now I know, that life is brief,

And we are only passing through,

Days mixed with happiness and with grief,

For the friends that we once knew.

For Ber.

@Ambrose Harte

@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

I don't know if a man can change with time.

But I know that time will change a man.

Picture me for instance.

I missed my children growing up. I was never there for them.

My wife, my beloved Sheila.

She was there for you all the time.

Through thick and thin, she was there.

And where was I?

On a bar stool.

[scatteredthoughts2]

THE POOKA.

I was walking home on a winters night,

Ice crystals on the road,

When my eyes beheld this ghostly sight;

And my story will now unfold,

The Pooka walked beside me;

A stallion, grand and black,

And so surely he enticed me,

To climb upon his back.

I was the worst for drink,

Sure I only had a dozen,

And my breath did surely stink,

Amid the air around me frozen.

I climbed upon the Daemons back,

( but I thought it was a horse )

But when I realised what I had done,

By Lord, you should have heard me curse.

The Pooka took me miles from home,

( I only lived just down the lane )

And I swear he smiled and winked at me,

And I woke up in sunny Spain.

Now, here I had a problem,

To go home to my contrary wife,

Or stay on here in Spain,

And enjoy the sunny life.

I think you know the choice I made,

For I'm still here to tell the tale,

And if you can't get onto the Pooka's, back,

Be sure to grab his tale.

@Ambrose Harte

@@Scattered Thoughts

[scatteredthoughts2]

Perry Como sings "Christmas Dream" (with lyrics)