Occupational Hazard

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Occupational Hazard

AIDAN HAYES

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Belfast

Lapwing

Occupational Hazard

�

AIDAN HAYES

�

Belfast

LAPWING

First Published by Lapwing Publicationsc/o 1, Ballysillan DriveBelfast BT14 8HQ

[email protected]://www.freewebs.com/lapwingpoetry/

Copyright © Aidan Hayes 2013

All rights reservedThe author has asserted her/his right under Section 77

of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988to be identified as the author of this work.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.A catalogue record for this book is available from

the British Library.

Since before 1632The Greig sept of the MacGregor ClanHas been printing and binding books

Lapwing Publications are printed at Kestrel Print 028 90 319211

E:[email protected] in Belfast at the Winepress

Set in Aldine 721 BT

ISBN 978-1-909252-22-6

ii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Some of these poemshave appeared in

The SHoP and Cyphers

Special Thanksto

Maurice Harmanwho won’t know what for.

iii

CONTENTS

31INNOCENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .30THIS LAND IS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .29YOU MIGHT HAVE PRAYED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .28THE WARM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27ADRIFT ON TREACHEROUS WATERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .26SELF AND SELVES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .25SO, WHAT’S THE SECRET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .24SUMMER WISHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23FOR ONE WHOSE HAPPINESS CONCERNS ME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .22LOSING THE INSPIRITING LEAVEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .21ONCE ONLY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .20RUE BERNARD JUGAULT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19I KNOW, I KNOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .18THE HONOUR CONFERRED BY A CONFIDENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . .17THE X FACTOR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .16DIALECTIC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15LIVING THE DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14ASK THE ANTI-SMOKER IF SHE/HE DRIVES A CAR . . . . . . . . . . .13GOVERNMENT HEALTH WARNING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12NOT EVERYBODY SAYS DON’T . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11AFTER HUGH MAC DIARMID . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10LOOK AWAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9CONFINEMENT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8I NAME THEIR SEVERAL NAMES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7MACARONIC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

iv

48WORK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46CONSIDERING THE POSSIBILITY OF PENNING A POEM OF SELF-PITY45OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .44COUPLE – COLOUR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43THE FIRST CASUALTY OF POWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .42SHADES OF GREY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40OF EXPERIENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39GIVING A TALK AT MIDNIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .38COMING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37IN NAOMH FIONAN’S GRAVEYARD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37FIRST EVENING OF THE LONG SUMMER HOLIDAY . . . . . . . . . .36THIS IS THE TIME . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .35POINTERS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .35SONGS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .34SOMETIMES THERE’S JUST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .33THE S.F.R. FILE: FURTHER EXTRACTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .32FOR J.K. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

v

Forgive me for all these words

but they are lamps placed in the hollows of winter

Jacques Bertin

vi

MACARONIC

Some verses for the ChristmasA d’iarr sí uaim Rosemary

A commission a requestChun chur isteach sa nuachtlitir

The thing we’re always hearingA deireann ár léitheoirí dúinn

That when we give them poems to read Go néiríonn gaoth bheag tobannach

And it rushes through the kitchen Sórt gaoithe theacht an earraigh

That pushes dust and the musty smell Amach tríd an bhfuinneog oscailte

And gives us cleaner air to breathe

So ar aghaidh leat a fhir an phinn Weave us a fine scarf of versesIs ar lá an dreoilín is ag Nollaig na mBan

We’ll taste clean air and breathe long

Aidan Hayes

7

I NAME THEIR SEVERAL NAMES

Errarooey and DerryreelMoyra with MurroeGleann and Creag and TráSwan’s Nest with Screag an Iolair Fawnmore and Parkmore and Faymore Ballymore with BallyboesBallybofey is Bealach Bó Féichand Legnahoory stands alone

Ballinass with MassinassLurgy with Leanann and GlashaghLough Keel and Lough SaltCnoc a’ Mharmair Cnoc Fola Cnoc Dubh

Hill of Marble Hill of Blood Black Hill Carrowcannon LeitirCeanainn Carrowkeel Owencarrow with Bun na hAbhannand Legnahoory stands alone

Doon Lake and Dunlewy and Downings Buttermilk Port and the Port of Salt Ráith goes with Raymunterdowney Keadew is from Céide a flat-topped hill(In Breton ki du is black dog)Bedlam’s from BealtineCroithlí’s a quagmirebut Legnahoory stands alone

Occupational Hazard

8

CONFINEMENT

An eye for an eye,

you have heard it said.

For us it was an advance: retribution admitted, but restrained.

Till then, if your neighbour did you hurt you could – with justification – destroy him, snuff out his life.

And this waslong before the Nazarene.

You – you stockade them, and tightly guard the gate. You permit the families to be there.

You cannot be astonishedthat confined men grab for weapons, that they strike you however they can.

Are you astonished?

Aidan Hayes

9

LOOK AWAY

A man sits on the footpath –O’Connell Bridge.He could be sixty, – seventy? Face of polished wood.From the subcontinent of India?

To passers-by he doesn’t offer voice or eyes. When someone puts a coin in his bowlhe gives his gaze, says some word.

Then he takes his right hand,places it flat on his breast,pauses–and pushes it out – palm upward–toward the sky.

As if to say: You have a heartthat finds an echo in my heart:

this chord rises to the Eternal.

Another man – on Dame Street, by the bank… He uses hat and high collar to hide his face.He tries not to be here.Is he feeling grateful for the mere not-being-dead? And is he living still?

Some thirty feet away a poet stands near an open case of books,his calm eyes on the passing world. Evenly he says:Poverty ennobles no one.

Who told you that it did?

Occupational Hazard

10

AFTER HUGH MAC DIARMID (1892 -1978)

I want poems like guitars that kill fascistsPoems persistent as the sea powerful as QuasimodoPoems like wild poppies in Donegal ground

pungent as a sudden greenfinchPoems that censor nothing human that sing like Paul RobesonThey singe the pagePoems like mackerel that straighten fish hooksThey catch the curt sound of carwheels through puddlesPoems dynamic with Yeatsian rageThese poems give the news due attentionPoems that show lobelias’ exact blueUnafraid of farting of yelling of rude red healthPoems that take to their breasts the word untouchableThey scale the walls round the cabbage patch of the heartPoems with opened mouth and ears and eyes and poresPoem sharp-beaked with questions

spiked with exclamations invisibly inked

Poems that challenge a minority pursuitThese are not nourished by wine and politenessThey are poems both crafted and craftyPoems that take you by the lapels and shakePoor poems that speak the word poor the word richPoems that serve neither master nor mistressThese poems worship the god of LifeUnfazed by Power they embrace human being

Poems not collared and tiedLike crowds of starlings they make the air shimmerPoems with strong arms outstretchedPoems with fists and with handsPoems that fight with the Self

Aidan Hayes

11

NOT EVERYBODY SAYS DON’T The philosophers have only interpreted the world,in various ways; the point is to change it. (KM)

Like a football rattle that soundmagpie too large for gardens

The metal eye of the jackdawBraggart nihilist that is the strolling rookDepressive dipping flight of finches

The nervy tipping of a grounded wagtail

Tits in full kitaviators from the egg

A robin offering accompanimentTwo swans applaud the waterMassing and blending

starlings create momentary shapes

They alter the surrounding air

NOVEMBER

A leaf scrapes the yarda window bangs uncertainly

I’ll build a fire before she comes

Occupational Hazard

12

GOVERNMENT HEALTH WARNINGHow far the people forgive the government

for the way it has treated them remains to be seen.

– Roy Foster, in I.T., 19/12/2009

Be aware that hollow words make ersatz meals–that some human hungers are irresistible:even Ceausescu, in the end, was heckled…

An odour begins to invade our air.Our leader’s dreamtime fills with noise: streets and crowds and steady chanting.

Rehearsing a script from a steely mind he looks once behind his shoulder.His knuckles on the podium whiten.

Aidan Hayes

13

ASK THE ANTI-SMOKER IF SHE/HE DRIVES A CARafter Félix Leclerc

Stand away from the nice onewhose plea is for kindness to the disgraced government man.

Question the minister for the people’s health who fervently lauds the unselfishness of nurses.

Take care of the bland churchmaninsisting that we’re all of us human.

Suspect the one – the people’s power in his fist –vaunting his work-hours, his lack of family life..

Distrust the ones who claimthey have no agenda, no axe to grind.

Challenge those who voice prescriptions for your own good.

Those who passionately condemn –what are they concealing?

Beware the ones appalled by a word: say rich, say power, say social class.

(See how they’re mesmerized by surfaces: watch them recoil from looking beneath.)

Pity those who won’t complain–can hope survive incarceration?

Preach anger to the angerless.They have given up on the living life.

And mirror, mirror on the wall… That one may repay close questioning.

Occupational Hazard

14

LIVING THE DREAM

Take a peoplewell versed in disaster – natural, unnatural. (No need to point out the world’s against them.)

Join hands with an authoritarian church.(These ones believe obscurely they must have erred.)

Introduce into the mix twin political parties.(Tell them now they have a choice.)

Pray, pay, obey.

(The shared slogan will without argument shape itself.)

Call this confection Machiavellian Dream –or Spain Without Need of Franco.

Later, comfy with power, there will be leisure to find new words.(In changing times adjust the lexicon.)

Aidan Hayes

15

DIALECTICfor MMcC

… and better than we ever thought possible Éamonn Bredin

The left hand stained with crimes– The left for the shamed part? –but full of gifts the right…The man who gave me these words tonighthad his lefthandedness corrected:he says the left hand’s stained with crimes.

My mother’s shift was to left, from right.Filled with the gift of willpower she set herself to learn:a blood clot set her teaching the other hand to write.She determined still to make timefor postcards, letters, gifts–the left hand never blameable for the sulking crime.

She pushed her power to the other side: the one hand purple, closing –the giftgiver – the right.

If the phrasemaker’s change was oppressive, vile,my mother’s lifesaver was her will to fight.He says the left hand’s stained with crimes:he stands there filled with gifts, his left hand and his right.

Occupational Hazard

16

THE X FACTOR Alexis Soyet

Could it be the pearls of barley The half-ounce of sugar crystals The potato in seasonThe quarter pound of shinned beef Immersed in two gallons of water

What makes soup famine soup

Is it the fistful of flourThe poor pair of onionsIt’s hardly the grease-spot of dripping The pinch of salt

Is it the recipe’s makerIs it that he’s a FrenchmanDoes it depend on where he’s fromA knowledge of what French peasants eat

Is that what makes soup famine soup

Which qualification most mattersHis in-depth study of indigenous dietA seductive way with Reform Club palates Miraculous ways with cheap ingredients

Is it the water brackish plentifulIs it the vast iron potIs it the smoky gorse fireThat lifts this soup above the ordinary

And lends it the true ethnic quality of fine famine soup

Aidan Hayes

17

THE HONOUR CONFERRED BY A CONFIDENCE

It is a commonplace among prison teachersthat a young man out-of-group,a pupil removed by chance from peer support is just a man deprived of reasons for pretence and often breaks into candid speech.

He spoke of father, brothers (no sister), of the parent who on small provoking gave himself to violent rageand afterwards said sorry.Among the brothers there would be

real digging matches.

When they were out for instance in a pub the one who went to the bar for drinks might go with two black eyes.I’ve a hard time trying to hold my temper:

I have a good durability but when it cracks, it cracks. The arresting officer, the Sergeant,had shown himself a kindly man,so the sentence in the end was twelveinstead of the thirty months expected.

Most Guards, he thought, would not have shown such understanding of the opposite side. Their mother had left in ‘83:he’d had birthday cards but not every time. Here, where the jocose insult still

Occupational Hazard

18

shocks less than a word of praise,I resist an urge to deny trustworthiness; allow myself to picture the local scribe sought out by those with vital family news to pass. They entrust him with intimacies.

And once in a great while someone comesto tell his story and leaves it behind him:just wanting someone to know, someone to take note.

I KNOW, I KNOW

Despite changes of addressthat didn’t alter what demanded alteration –and changes of school that taught you little at the time – despite questions later, answers squeezed out under pressure –in spite of all these yearsof nodding impatient assentto Brel’s claim that arrivingis a thing we never stop doing –in spite of all you fall again,and hard, for the notionthat this time, this time…

Aidan Hayes

19

RUE BERNARD JUGAULT

From a few days’ stay in a proper house on a street of high– fenced gardens, named for a union man shot at thirty-three, I have no memory of warm handshake

but a tortoise ancient in suburban grass– two scrawny fledgling pigeonsbetween shutter and glass making a show with stabbing eye, unhardened beak.

And the smell of droppingsheavy in July heat– a plaited plant someone thought to tame flexing coils, pulling railings out of shape.

And what had my hostess offeredbut the freedom of the property?And what did I presume?

Occupational Hazard

20

ONCE ONLYfor Claud Cockburn

A man who honoured us by moving here tells of the difficulty for the observer familiarity brings: all those pungent impressions, so eyewatering at first, smudge, dilute, combineto shape a vague mass of autumn landscape.

Therefore I, being of sounder mind– having stumbled that bit closer to my self– feeling like an immigrant in a new landand sensing the moment’s once-onlyness,have determined to set down some–thing of the colour of the time.

It is a time when soft pink blossoms stick to car roofs and windscreens,turning thoughts to weddings,sunny exam halls. It’s a timewhen the dreaming and the waking seem to be finding common ground– ground that may support my step.

And just in case 1’d settle for an easy freewheel to a place of boundless easeone flower insists on my attention:scarlet tulip, quite unhinged, lets its sides down – no time now for modesty or prudence.

Aidan Hayes

21

LOSING THE INSPIRITING LEAVEN

1. The Retreat: the present time

Inside the thick-walled bunker, the most powerful of the aristo-crats in their robes. The building does have window slits, butthose inside seem unaware of this. If you did get a look in, you’dsee the princes’ backs turned to the world beyond the walls.They murmur prayers, mourn the sinfulness of humankind, andthe end of the practice of listening to one’s betters.

2. The Movement: after the conversion

The bunker’s a museum. Women and men – ordinary, decent –gather together in groups. In the open. They talk, and read, andattentively listen. Their focus: Jesus the Christ. And their livinglives. And the world. A guiding thought is: What is to be done?

And: Priorities now? To cheer each other on, the people speaknames aloud: Hildegard! – lrenaeus! – Roncalli! – Teresa! – Assisi!

Occupational Hazard

22

FOR ONE WHOSE HAPPINESS CONCERNS MEIt’s true I’m no saint, but I’m loved and 1 love

I would find a way

of slipping in a questionbetween the alert and the busy being

between Of course – that’s as expected and the chance of being surprised

between being good as you can manage today and pushing on unrested for the next upward slope

between all the doing things that come urgently to hand

and keeping an eye on the heart’s quiet garden

between maintaining an uncomplaining stance and confessing you might learn to like a hug

between having departure times at your fingertipsand the’ giddy delight of watching timetables turn toflame and smoke

between dealing with shale, seawrack, stones incoming and standing sentinel even on mornings of flat calm

I would find a way to persuade youthat happiness for humans is as free of deserving – and as vital– as plankton is for whales

Aidan Hayes

23

SUMMER WISHESfor Joanne Woodward and Mr C

May your summer flies all be mayflies Your sole moaning neighbours be seagulls Your rainbows arcs of kingfishersMay shimmers of starlings incite you to sing

May your fanning carers be roseate ternsYour scruffy ducklings turn out to be misnamed May anything fishy be the real thing a-swimMay the trusting robin never escape your line of sight

May your snowy owl keep an eye on coming horizons The swallow know your outbuildings as homeMay the fox’s sharp bark be your All’s wellMay wild poppies thrive on your ground

Occupational Hazard

24

SO, WHAT’S THE SECRET

My first villanelle went well: each line clicked into place. For all that I can tell

publishers will yellAt last! A poet of taste!

My first villanelle went well.

I’ll send lames Wright to hell: my life has been a waste – ha! For all that I can tell

formalist verse will sell– my words win pride of place. My first villanelle went well.

I might quit this monkish cell– face the human race–for all that I can tell. . .

Right: what’s the magic spell? I might toss them off like aces for all that I can tell!My first villanelle went well. . .

Aidan Hayes

25

SELF AND SELVES

You burst from the cold print of a novel –your Kate to my Jules, and him.

The cold bedroom under a low roof, the thin sponge mattresses in orange at the top of the so-marrow stairs.

You did not fear to weep or rage, to laugh, giggle, be afraid to look long down the well of self and selves.

Occupational Hazard

26

ADRIFT ON TREACHEROUS WATERSfor Freddy White

This is no Big Brother show, my son no picnic, no easypeasy,but you don’t see us resigning.We stick to our gunsand – we don’t fire our friends,or force them to go unrewarded.

Yes it’s hard to be put in charge but we keep the ship sailing. And if one of ours is going under we turn right aboutand strain all the crew’s resources.

What’s that? – Core values?Don’t you remember:Look after the family, Michael.

A man who doesn’t mind his family is not a man.

Aidan Hayes

27

THE WARM

A youngish man who alwayspicks a seat with space for two.The woman with pained, exhausted face:the plaster cast – hospital visit, repeat.The one who sits right behind the driverand talks earnestly to his tilting head.A courteous man – hearing more than he speaks–

seems to feel his fellows need acknowledging. One woman starts at unexpected sounds: when she laughs she is a child’ssudden hunch of delight, hand to mouth.A man getting off thanks the driverby name without fail – each timethe same elaborate form of words.

The one quietly requesting to be let off at her favoured corner, by the crossing.The man looking fixedly out the window. This woman knows whose funeralis slowing our progress. And she knows things about the deceased she decides– God forgive me – to mention.

A man delays disembarkingto offer words to the driverwith a heartiness that seems pre-decided.The one who loves laundering,and joke shops, and bargains, and funny hats. The ones who get off at the welfare office. The woman who puts chocolate treats in our hands.

Occupational Hazard

28

YOU MIGHT HAVE PRAYEDOn hearing the head of a respected Christian Church

declare support for the present war

You might have prayed or taken thought,then spoken to power with resolution.You might have looked to Nathan,say, when he drew the king into a story – hooked him with a poor-man, rich-man tale. He blew on a spark of indignationtill the man of power lost patience withthe rich man in the story: Such a man

deserves to die!

You know all this: you know it – how Nathan, speaking for another master, hardly thinking of the risk he’s taking, shows the king how he’s condemned himself.

If they should ban religion here – sayfor stirring up the meek – who would deserve arraignment for passionate belief?

Aidan Hayes

29

THIS LAND IS

There’s the senior welfare officer – without notice – marks your file P.S. So, when payment day arrivesyour bank has nothing for you.A friend’s kindness gets you through the weekend.When you go to the place on Monday you are not at your most serene: she didn’t have your number – needed to see you. Simple.

A taxman younger than youwith a chronic sneer:We send you these forms

so you can fill them in!

And the dear ESB finds you seriously overdue. You’ll be disconnected without further notice. And here is the cost.Plus the price to reconnect.It’s signed by a Michael something. He’s the computer’s front man.

At their combined training weekends the guiding thought is this:Address them as if they’re slow-witted.

Use the headmasterly tone.

That’ll let them know what’s what,

and who is really who.

Occupational Hazard

30

INNOCENTSI believe / I do / I believe it’s true

Tom Paxton

See, it’s for the government to govern. And the market – well, the market’s free. The banks know well what they’re doing, Fireguards are not made of paper. They’re safe. Trustworthy. See?

Of course there are budgets and Budgets– One for the dear managers of the business, One for those who hope, and vote, and pay.

Leinster House is not a playhouse! The Taoiseach’s a well-meaning guy. We’re lucky: we’ve got democracy. The citizen rules – okay?

We hand them our power. Why? It’s easier this way.We trust them don’t you see.And the banks mind the money– And okay, it’s not their money, But they know what they’re at: We agree?

Now we must pull together. Bankers. Government. We.

Aidan Hayes

31

FOR J.K.

Li Po my friendif I had some red wineI’d drink it to you

to your moon, to your moods I’d drink to the small lifeto the trusting black dog

one leg shaved to the shoulderto young Jimmy on the roadand one of his bikes

to the woman who chucklesat my feeble joke

to my son’s posted gift

the postcard from my daughterI’d drink to the small

and I’d stay off the water

Occupational Hazard

32

THE S.F.R. FILE: FURTHER EXTRACTS

… Well, fair play, Mícheál. They were wrong. The naysayers, the doom-an’-gloomers. God, the way they were talking you’d say we’d signed our own death warrant.The Kilgarvan factor how are yeh! The way the lefties were rubbing their hands you’d have thought the bloody revolution was about to happen. Ha!

And you chose the exact right tone,Taoiseach, the morning after. Nocrowing, no triumphalism. Just quietly commending the nation for complying. Just right. Statesmanlike. Dignified.

I must say, Mícheál, I had niggling doubts. I mean I didn’t believe the people would rise up in a body, the fag in the mouth, the throwaway lighter in the paw, and blow smoke in our faces – defy their lawful masters. No, no. Of course not. The Irish people! Not their style. Not the nature of the beasts. But still –

And now, Taoiseach, now that we’ve staked out our piece of the moral high ground – Decisive action on the people’s behalf,

Brave leadership in a matter of vital

national importance, Governments must govern

and so forth – now we can afford to kick up a bit of dust. I mean who will now believe us capable of playing to voters’ prejudices?

Aidan Hayes

33

We might admit to the odd human failing: that’ll be one in the eye for the accusations of arrogance. And we must publicly shun the ones who get caught, possibly drop someone overboard.

Ah, Mícheál, it’s a glorious country When you know how to handle it!

SOMETIMES THERE’S JUST

a rag of black plastic rat-tat-tatting on a wire

a moon slightly squashed

and a star blinkingbehind slack telephone cables

Occupational Hazard

34

SONGSNik Kershaw, 1983

I think of you sighing out my nameor looming over me in the smiling dark –your eager mouth,breasts offering like soft fruit,your child-modesty, adult assurance.

I think of you when I hear certain songs – songs that hold back the sunsetlike the wedge that saves a sash window from disaster.

POINTERSfor Johnny Mercer, singerpoet

Loosestrife, knapweed, mallow sink back. The roadside blood-orange, black, water-green.Rowan heavy with clusters of red.Buddleia no longer draws butterflies.

Three starlings in a tree’s swaying top – one swallow breasting the grass.Not a bee bumbles.Grounded rook and jackdawpoint into the wind, unmoving.

Aidan Hayes

35

THIS IS THE TIME

the time that flapsaround the spike of January sixth

when the half-pulled curtainsof a house on the edge of town make it seem abandoned or asleep

when crisp brown-paper leavescling to a beech hedgeand hydrangeas have a smoke-damaged look

when the astrakhan collar of grass round the gate of a house for rent has just two isolated daisies

when the wine-and-grey human tideon temporary release from schooldivides and flows again in shops at lunchtime

when in Paddy Kelly’s fieldthe palomino that looks muddy grey lopes toward me and nibbles at my pockets

when the plain green tinsel star on a front wall is unstapled

This is the time I hate

Occupational Hazard

36

FIRST EVENING OF THE LONG SUMMER HOLIDAY

I’d like to have come home To find something changed: The crumbs and papersOn the kitchen table Not in their old positions, The kettle warm,Dust disturbed,The spider movedTo a new location–Not lurking there,An old prey stillIn the spreading weave.

Aidan Hayes

37

COMING

One more time to take a love

Like taking a train

So as not to be alone

To be elsewhere…

Among the stark stumps from municipal pruning–The hornet-drone of shredders–The flowers placed on family plots–From floral wreath to floral wreath

Coloured shapes point to earth now, waiting–People in doorways, islanded by sudden rain–Leaf-litter rasps underfoot:Death hangs up our Dulcinéas

Quick gleam of heaped yellow, in yellow headlights–Rain blotches, then blackens the street–October weather–I’m coming. I’m coming!

Failing of colours, rationing of light–Word comes, among interrupted programmes: He has come to destination

We approach the platform

Jacques BREL

died 9 October 1978 at 59

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38

GIVING A TALK AT MIDNIGHT

What remains of a singular nightsome twelve months sinceis the relentless ragged slapof water on concreteas I sat on the divanshuffling cuttings and notesbefore going to meet my audience.And the black road, tilted, andthe rainwater rushing down the slope.There was the tree against a standing lamp raising dancer’s arms high above its trunkas I walked in the school gate.Walking home at a jaunty hour,a corrugated barn roof had a lead-pencil sheen, and I doffed my hat to the ringed moon. What remains is what black ink holds–the rest is air and viva voce.

Aidan Hayes

39

OF EXPERIENCETeaching is a wonderful career,

but if you lose the energy for the task or become burnt out,

there is no job that will kill you quicker.

– Susie Hall, ASTI President (Easter 2005)

There are phrasesthat when you take them in make you go very still.

They can bringa sort of withdrawal, a retraction of the neck.

They start a breathy yes from some unvoiced place. They have the force

of a tight verse of Frost’s, of a voice like Freddy White’s. Hinting at high purpose

they’re tinted by experience. Their view is unillusioned. They catch you

as a photographer might, and freeze youin one posture.

Truth’s come to call.It makes no demands– speaks its piece,

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moves offstage.You are shaken, consoled: someone knows what it’s like.

Someone speaks with that authority. Here is a teacherroutinely harnesses

heart and mind,sees the work as service. You’d want your own kids

exposed to such care.And when will decision-makers learn to give heed to such voices–

to hold their tongues,give up cheap tabloid tactics, check the true meaning of sinecure?

Aidan Hayes

41

SHADES OF GREY

It was our time of the Golden Tiger –a creature whose sense of place, of identity is diffident, lightly worn: Asian, Irish, other…

A time of hilarity –the era’s mottos Give it a lash! Go for it!

Ya-hoo: we’re worth it, at last!

I was born in’ 47, grew as best I could through the coughing fifties,under sodden layers

of the national inferiority complex. So – when some gleeful broadcaster pronounced inferiority dead

I stiffened: Not so fast, not so fast.

Now, people from another part of Europe file silently on stage

to address those with ears to hear:We harboured a chronic corrosive sense. Then we saw a tiger rise among us.

We were brought in the bitter end

to distinguish confidence from that other thing.

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THE FIRST CASUALTY OF POWERor A Ruler Is Not A Lexicographer

Words, that matter – take the weighty ones that come from the throat of Power…

By loyal majority, a new offence:not incitement – glorification of violence. The weighty ones, the words that matter, the ones with tangible consequence –interrogation, detention, visits from friends.

Glorify and justify are brother verbs, says Power: by easy majority a new offence.And explanation means justification, Power proclaims. Nouns and verbs, the ones that matter,we’d better get clear in our heads. ’So, therefore the explainer justifies! Power opines.By dazed majority a new offence.

What did you say, father – Hopkins?“The just man justices”– yes?I know you did not call the just man justifier.

The matter of words – weight, purpose, dimensions:absolute majorities the true offence.

Aidan Hayes

43

COUPLE – COLOUR

After the delighted shock – a cloud: full pinkagainst a pale blue ground –

my gaze is drawnto the sodium streetlampin its nearly-there time:the deep rosy lightceding slowly to uniform yellow.

An ice cream between wafers –colour to colour :strawberry, banana.

A boy named Denis –help with homeworkin his mother’s pub:a glass of raspberry and orange my reward.

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OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDfor André Cayatte

Enforced quiet would bring him outin giggles. In the school libraryhe’d activate puppet-eyebrows, ventriloquist-lip, clown’s starting eyes:a man who couldn’t rub shoulderswithout a nudge that says,I’m here – are you?He seemed to enjoy watching solemness crumble: perhaps he found stillness unnerving.

Now, he stands immobile,stone face demanding silence– words like sharpened weapons, questions with barbs to snag the unwary. He’s telling himself they’re all the same: What kind of a fool d’you take me for?

A bigger one than you?

It may be a common case of flayed nerve-ends, or some feeling denied its proper object.Or is it the resentment of a salaried manof whom much is expected, and who, vaguely glimpsing causes too remote,slides into a bitter one-man work-to-rule?

Aidan Hayes

45

CONSIDERING THE POSSIBILITY OF PENNING A POEMOF SELF-PITY

Father Gabriel comesto try a way throughthe locked ears of Mendoza

who’s slumped in his own chosen stink.He puts questions and listensto the man who’s killed his own brother

in a sword fight the boy could not win.Gabriel gets him to takethe step up into penance –

one step up from despair.He doesn’t mention despair.

Mendoza sticks hard

to this penance – beyondreason, beyond endurance:the endurance of Gabriel’ s companions

on the trek into mountainous jungle.

They are intolerantof masochism, real enemiesof hate, these ones:

they complain to Gabrielabout excessive suffering.But Mendoza clings tight

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46

to his burden.Now one man baresa knife and moves.

Mendoza starts backward–a half-step, no more.Now he stands his ground,

makes no move to defendor attack, he the lethal swordsman.Each of the others strains

to step in – everyone but Gabriel.The knifebearer, somethingvivid in his face, steps up

and severs the cordthat joins man and loadwith a loud outbreath.

The weighty parcelof swords and armourhits the ground,

bumps over the cliff they have climbed.

The man glares at his rescuer,feels his lightened shouldersmart. Thinks of his weapon:

I decide what I deserve.

Aidan Hayes

47

WORKfor Breandán O hEithir

A long time I thoughtPasternak’s doctor-poet had it right: poemmaking’s not the sameas useful work. One needs both. Work to be part of something larger, poems for something else again.

There were moments in the classroom when, sticking to the curriculum, something occurred. I readThree Lambs to a young classand something in the silence hit me : Did you like the story?

They nodded.Did anyone not?

Silence absolute.

O’Flaherty, I said, was an old man – still alive. We could write to him. We wrote– said everyone liked his story. Twenty-six names were signed. Months later his reply:God bless the people of Cork.

Didn’t they beat hell

out of the Black-and-Tans.

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There were extracurricular moments. And there were times of bitter warfare when I was the prison warder keeping my herd of brutes:my mother’s death was my excuse. Poemmaking was a thing I didon the side – when holidays came and the cries of school were still.

One October I found myself writing:If I do not make poems I am a scoundrel.

The words were strange and clear.It was a thing I had to do–but still in the margins,the unworked margins of the field.

Now I know the caring professions can be the habitat of the needy.I was a good teacherbecause good teachers are loved.I was a bad teacherbecause I didn’t see work is not enough.

Aidan Hayes

49

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Aidan Hayes

51

r

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AIDAN HAYES

Aidan Hayes was born in Cork City 1947.

Most of his working life was in teaching.

He spent a number of years in France.

The tug-of-war between working and writing

was resolved at

The Poet’s House, Falcarragh, (2001 - 2002).

He translated and edited from French a personal

selection of singer-poets from France and Quebec.

Publications:

Richesses, Southword Editions, Cork, 2007.

Two Halves, Lapwing Publications, Belfast, 2008.

Notes Towards a Love Song, Doghouse, Tralee, 2011

Aidan now lives in Falcarragh, County Donegal.

The Lapwing is a bird, in Irish lore

- so it has been written -

indicative of hope.

Printed by Kestrel Print

Hand-bound at the Winepress, Ireland

ISBN 978-1-909252-22-6

L A P W I N GL A P W I N GL A P W I N GL A P W I N GPU B L I C A T I O N S

£10.00