The Great War - Aindre Reece-Sheerin

Aindre added this note to his poem which is why it has been put on an 'adult page'; "Please note this is not for the faint of heart or weak stomach."

The Great War - Aindre Reece-Sheerin

Great Uncle Patrick fought in the Great War
wounded very early on he told stories
of what went on with the Black and Tans
and how badly they treated Irish people

all the while his war wound would surface during
every other sentence as he had shrapnel
still inside his lungs and even on
an August day he sat by a roaring fire

roll of toilet paper in one hand and
gesticulating expressively with the other
then up it would come from the depths
Cough and Spit he called them
the two Flemish comedians

and into the paper he would spit mid sentence
calmly continuing the conversation, folding neatly as you like
leaving room for one more go and once the paper was sufficiently weighted
to the back of the fire he flicked it with a deftness unrivalled
and sit there and hiss and sizzle until it dried and then burned

hacccccaahhhh gurrrraaaach (spit)
over and over this would happen without any
formality, just routine and telling jokes all the time
until to bed he would go and then the real pantomime began

The house was always immaculate
dark brown stained doors stained glass front window
tiny rooms but with a huge kitchen
and always some scone or cake on the go

I remember being asked if I would stay over one night
and throughout the night he would call out Oh
Jesus, I'm done, I'm going Mary
Mary being his sister and my Great Aunt

A woman of kindliness unsurpassed a woman of substance who
wore bright blue bloomers and proud of them showing them on the Sea Saw and equally proud of being called Miss
never married, but a dancer supreme with numerous suitors

She shared the home and put up with the daily task of listening to many stories over and over and watching as we (I did anyway)
split out sides laughing at the eccentric actions
that only our family would take in our stride

he told many a near knuckle joke and so popular
was he that any Wake (Irish Funeral) and first
on the invite would he be

A hairdresser by trade and sported a fedora
drove a Volkswagen Fastback
drove it until Great Aunt Mary took his licence away
we would again laugh saying he kept death off the
roads by spending most of his time driving on the pavements

Sitting in his rocking chair with his checked blanket
and boiled sweets, a good and gentle man
God fearing and on that one night only
that I stayed, over and over he called

'it won't be long now Mary
oh Jesus, I'm dying
Oh God help me'
and I called out, 'I wish he'd hurry up
so we can all get some sleep'

He survived for many years after that
and I remember he offered to pay me
for staying the night and I was upset
but really I should have paid him for the entertainment

I can still hear him struggling to breathe and bringing up
phlegm laden cough after cough
I do not ever remember him complaining
and can even smell still the turf on the fire and hear the sizzle
of the gunk he had no choice but to bring up day in day out

Aindre Reece-Sheerin