2015 05 – Unemployment (poem)



The chimney pots of stony smoky Cork indicate

Tenants caught in the Jaws of this Time of the Century:

Burning soft Polish coal in bright fireplaces

“Visitors welcome – rest your weary bones!”


While clever son Joe in Jeans and Just-right Sneakers


Ending varnishing the staircase rail, sharply

Clatters the squeaky front door- satisfied, pint-bound.


Four years later a second coat and clatter,

What matter?

“Rumour has it they’ll restart the mill this year

I must get a job I’ll soon be past my prime

(And never earned a crust)

Surely they wouldn’t let that happen?”


“Love me” said the President

Love us all” said the Pope


At the beginning of the tunnel of love the odour of decay

At the end the dustbin of history.


Jamie Dixon