A while back i was given poems that were written by a young man callled John Jones from Enniskillen in Co Fermanagh who died in 1979, aged just 22. Tomorrow is his anniversary so I thought i would put up one of them. This is my favourite one and perfectly captures the dark misery that was 1970's N. Ireland. It was dated Oct 1978 and this month also has deep resonance for me as it was one of the darkest periods of my life.
The Town I Love So Well
They sipped from cups of steamy welcome tea
and fag ends hissed as they hit the water.
The traffic lights were amber, the cinema closed
As they plunged once more with twilight sneaking.
The peckish crowds drew lots for a better view,
Their consensus instability, despite his tender years
and that Daglish would surely hit the thirty mark.
The paper boy dripped when they brought him up.
His feet were encased in two large pumpkins
And already the pike had nibbled at his flesh.
He left no note and no one mentioned murder.
