The Great Folly

all children
of a pleasure
seeking age
seeking
painless lives
and yet
be christian
ignoring the fruit
of the
gospel page
that Christ
crucified
is our salvation

to accept Christ
is to accept
the cross
our rose is
accompanied
by the thorn

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poem by Liam ó Comáin
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Cultural Gap

Saturday evening and
persistent drumbeats
pervade my home
emanating from
my sons room
a cadence of modern
rock and a mental caffeine
disturbing the serenity
of my thoughts

A generation gap
as wide as Niagara
upholding a sub culture
with an unremitting beat
and incoherent vocalisation
the expended sound
accompanying the gyrations
of one ephemeral group
after another

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poem by Liam ó Comáin
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Memories Of The Roeside

Scenes of a childhood,
Long years ago,
Surface in memory as vivid as snow:
The Mullagh, the Dogleap,
The Wet Wood and the Dry…
Memories of the Roeside
Bringing tears to each eye.

And where are the friends
Of those days before?
Do they share the fond memories
Which I have in store?
Do they think of the Marshfield,
The old Wireless Lane,
Nicholl’s Brae, The Flat,
And the high Rock of Kane?

Do they recall the summers
By the Wee Rock at the Mill,
Or the sports in the Avenue

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poem by Liam ó Comáin
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The Ballad Of “Willie, Bar The Door.”

In the town of Limavady,
I would have you all to know,
William Cummings he was born
A true son of the Roe.

And in that lovely valley
Near to Benevenagh’s feet,
“Willie, bar the door” gave
Many a soccer treat…

For roared on by his public
Throughout the fair north west
This humble Irish sportsman
Put others to the test.

And sure ‘twas in his lifetime
A legend he became
One of the best defenders
In the skilful soccer game.

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poem by Liam ó Comáin
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Thoughts Of Derry

Thoughts Of Derry

In August at mid-day on
An English building site
The air was clammy,
And office workers
Across from the site
Lay in the shade of
Ancient trees, at lunch break.

I too sat eating tomato
Sandwiches after hours
Of hudding bricks
Wondering if the sun
Was roasting the Creggan
Or were grey clouds
Sprinkling drizzle on the Foyle.

Near by, roses were
Blooming and window

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poem by Liam ó Comáin
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