Rod O'Donoghue

Rod O’Donoghue p.2

On Christmas Morn

Home Alone Christmas

Waiting in Heaven

On Christmas Morn

The white moon wanes at dawn of winterʼs day
While fairy dust, once sprinkled on the lawn,
Begins to steam and upward wends its way.
Iced panes of glass slow melt as children yawn
Excited breath, or draw, with fingers raw
And cold, a smiley face or five point star.
‟Get up!” she calls, ‟ʼTis Christmas Day once more!”
See woolly socks hang bright beneath the bar,
White berried mistletoe for all to see
In festive doorways decked with red and green?
The children wait for gifts with verve and glee,
Amazed that Santa came last night unseen.
Yet tucked aside a new born babe awakes
The cattle low and, still, no sound He makes.

Copyright © 2011 Rod O'Donoghue
On Christmas Morn read by Rod O’Donoghue
Home Alone Christmas

Home alone Christmas
No knocks at the door
No cards by the fireplace
No tree on the floor
No ‟bird” in the oven
No stockings or gifts
He sits there unshaven
Depression wonʼt shift
Avoiding the tele
Whose jingles drone on
Where crowds form in melees
And choirs sing their songs
All painful reminders -
Separation — apart-
His home alone Christmas
Is only the start
For New Year follows on....

Copyright © 2011 Rod O'Donoghue
Home Alone Christmas read by Rod O’Donoghue
Waiting in Heaven

She'd sit there in the corner,
Curled up like an embryo -
shedding silent tears of sorrow
in a world I couldn't go.

A fortress quite impregnable -
her arms clasped round her knees,
allowing none to break through
she shunned all sympathy.

In my pain I watched her,
as a tear formed in her eye.
It trickled smooth, sedate, serene
over the contours of her skin,
down past her nose,
and then past her mouth
gradually arriving at her chin...

...and there it paused,

slow motion set in
as it fell from the tip
of her quivering chin.

A sphere formed pure and simple
outside the realm of time.
Hovering there quite motionless,
this tear's a sphere sublime.

My mind could hold it no longer -
the tear continued its fall.
It hit and marked her pale pink top
with the faintest stain of all.

There's a stain of pain, and sorrow,
concealed in all these tears-
angelic pearls of paradise
which mark our days and years.

There are
tears of pain
and tears of sorrow
tears of anger
at lost tomorrows
then there's
tears of laughter
and tears of fun -
transparent tears of pain and joy
each and every one.

The falling tears of my Angel,
beyond the reach of the sun,
I cried at your tears of sadness
as you struggled all alone.
I still feel the pain and sorrow
in each and every one.

Copyright © 2011 Rod O'Donoghue
Waiting in Heaven read by Rod O’Donoghue

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