I was just looking over a few diaries from when I was still a cabinetmaker and I am astonished how creative I used to be. I would invent and designed things on a regular basses, or at least come up with original ideas in some form or another. The other thing that I could do with ease is to write a song. However, if I didn’t record it somehow, it would be lost forever. So I really only have a memory of having written good songs as I cannot play a musical instrument (even though I have a guitar)
Although I am, no way as creative as I used to be, I still seem to get the odd song, with lyrics, form in my head. But again, if I don’t record it, they are lost forever. How mental is that? I wonder do other people have the same issues.
I will try and learn the guitar that I have had for a number of years (Not saying what number it is) and you just never know what could happen. I won’t be able to sing though, as I damaged my voice a few years back and can no longer hold a note. I once did have a nice voice, although to be honest, I only have the memory of having a nice singing voice.
ANYWAY Today I was reading about the poet Patrick Kavanagh, who is from Inniskeen in Co.Monaghan, Ireland. Now I know Inniskeen very well as my mother is from near there and we used to go to Mass there on a Sunday if we were down staying with granny. My Granny and my Grandfather would have known Patrick Kavanagh fairly well as rural areas of Ireland are very tight knit communities.
ANYWAY after reading some of Patrick Kavanaghs work, a new poem started to form in my head. Almost like the songs with lyrics that I used to get. This time I was on the PC and I was able to write this new poem down and was very happy with it or be it for a short time only. So after writing the poem and reading and re reading it, I went out to the kitchen and started making dinner (no courgetts this time) After eating my dinner, feeding and playing with the dog, I came back to my PC and found all my work GONE! I just don’t know what happened? The PC was still on but all my work was missing. Silly idiot as I didn’t save anything. Now as with any songs I have written, if its not recorded its gone forever. Good job I’m not an actor as I would never be able to remember my lines.
I have been trying to peace back my poem and all I can get is four small lines.
So here it is, my new, very short poem.
Condensation by A.M.Donaghey
As a boy I’d often watch, roles of condensation drops.
Furrow down the window pain, and merge into a single lane.
Watered surface of the glass, on winter morning’s coldness past.
Once the moisture of my youth, now just memories of past truth.
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