This is the website of Denis Collins, Wexford - it is currently under re-construction but is still usable - immediately below you can visit the section on Exile on South Main St., Wexford and below that is a section on Poem of the Day - RosFm - a project Denis worked on in Roscommon

 

 

Poem of the Day - RosFm

Welcome to the RosFm Poem of the Day. There is no mystery here, just a poem every day. The poem will be broadcast during our regular schedule and you can then come here and read it again in your own time. If you really like the poem, print it out and pin it on your noticeboard or put it on your fridge door.

The Poem of the Day is organised as part of the work of poet Denis Collins during his residency with RosFm as part of the art@work programme organised by the Arts Office, Roscommon County Council.

Previous Poems of the Day

Today

Hey, Hey, Roscommon

Party Piece

Seven

Casadh

The Pilgrim

Sad Is My Pilgrimage...

Raifteirí an File

OUR HOUSE WAS FULL OF SAINTS AND HOLY ONES!

St. Anthony

and the baby Jesus

were always looking

for lost stuff

while poor grown-up Jesus

was always asked to

come down off his cross

to look at things or answer

for everyone’s actions.

 

John XXIII and Jack

and Bobby Kennedy

were on the kitchen mantlepiece

while God himself,

(or was it a sepia Jesus?),

held sway in the Living Room.

Halfway down the hall

Charles Stewart Parnell

basked in the red glow

of the Sacred Heart lamp

while the poor children

of Lourdes and Fatima

minded us in our bedrooms.

 

St. Jude was never off

my mother’s lips

and my father swore

by the blesséd martyrs,

his mother had great

devotion to St. Gobnait

a saint not well known

outside Ballyvourney;

Granny Brennan was

a staunch supporter

of Our Lady of Knock.

 

Others that regularly

got a look in or a mention

were St. Francis, of course,

Blesséd Oliver Plunkett,

poor Martin de Porres,

Bridget naturally and St. Denis

for the headaches.

 

There was never any room

for local saints from Wexford

except for poor Fr. Charles OFM,

who was surely a living saint

and crippled with arthritis.

 

That’s them now,

all accounted for,

the holiest of the holy

and best of the saints.