Post by DazedOblivion on Oct 9, 2006 3:18:41 GMT 1
Tonight I found out about a beautiful but sad poem called "First Annual Report" written by Gerry Corr (the father of the Corrs) and read by Sharon Corr, a recording of which can be found HERE. This poem is himself writing to his wife Jean (mother of the Corrs), a year after her death. Though sad, it was not without its hope... and humour.
FIRST ANNUAL REPORT
A year on, my love,
A year since we parted,
You to the prayer-wrapped unknown,
Me to a cell called freedom
In your place I have memory,
A stingy usurper
Dispensing crumbs
From the banquet of your table
Like a donkey in Omeath
Kicking my pride
And your laughter
Animating the Mournes
Or champagne Saturday
When we whooped and danced
To new celestial arrivals
On our cherished firmament,
Your light is on dim now, my love,
Yet blinding flashes of you
Startle me awake
From the barren limbo of dreams,
You'll be pleased God is back.
He left when you died.
Went a.w.o.l.
Like he'd been found out
Not having the answers
And permitting instead a soothing indulgence:
Why has Thou forsaken me
Yet there again, my dear,
I must allow for pre-occupation
With glamorous new arrival,
Introductions all round,
Glasses raised and all that,
Your's a spritzer, my love?
That's about it for now, my dear,
Except to say the blubbering is ceased
And sorrow's sickly syrup of self
Expunged from the menu
Well.....in hope and prayer, that is,
My love.
FIRST ANNUAL REPORT
A year on, my love,
A year since we parted,
You to the prayer-wrapped unknown,
Me to a cell called freedom
In your place I have memory,
A stingy usurper
Dispensing crumbs
From the banquet of your table
Like a donkey in Omeath
Kicking my pride
And your laughter
Animating the Mournes
Or champagne Saturday
When we whooped and danced
To new celestial arrivals
On our cherished firmament,
Your light is on dim now, my love,
Yet blinding flashes of you
Startle me awake
From the barren limbo of dreams,
You'll be pleased God is back.
He left when you died.
Went a.w.o.l.
Like he'd been found out
Not having the answers
And permitting instead a soothing indulgence:
Why has Thou forsaken me
Yet there again, my dear,
I must allow for pre-occupation
With glamorous new arrival,
Introductions all round,
Glasses raised and all that,
Your's a spritzer, my love?
That's about it for now, my dear,
Except to say the blubbering is ceased
And sorrow's sickly syrup of self
Expunged from the menu
Well.....in hope and prayer, that is,
My love.
