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December 7, 2015 / hbrowne4

Something I Had Was Stolen, a poem By Martin Murtagh

Secrecy is my second name
Denial as my only game
Hidden in my heart is shame
Something I had was stolen

Happiness submerged, buried deep
My eyes dry, do not weep
Alcohol sends its misery cheap
A child who’s heart is frozen

I run, I laugh, I sing, I play
Aping, miming another’s joyous way
Knowing not my own to say
Something inside is broken

Hope comes in the unused door
Lifts me up when I can take no more
Thaws the ice which runneth sore
Something hard is softened, molten

Is it come too late? Alas! Alack! Adieu?
The years before me are but few
I am now aged sixty two
Wanting to live what’s left, acoastin’.

Too late I cry, be still I say
Do not come again today
But renewed life grows out and sends away
Old, still-born dreams, busy ghostin’

Do I know if this I truly want
Confusion mixes with hearty jaunt
“Easy does it!” is my happy debutante
Replacing old, inglorious boastin’

Restored to me that which had not left
Filling the void and the cleft
Welcoming home the child bereft
Something I had is no longer stolen

© 5th December 2015

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One Comment

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  1. Martin Murtagh / Jan 19 2016 11:28 am

    As a poet with the same name as yourself, I am shocked to see your poem title include that same name, signifying a thief. Please could you retype the title as ‘Something I Had Was Stolen’ a poem by Martin Murtagh.

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