…when this ol’ Scots Jurassic started scribbling crime thrillers more than eight years ago, I never gave much thought (read ‘any thought’) at that time about how emb’dy else would think about reading my stuff… I wrote to please myself… and frankly, I still do that… I write the kind of narratives I would like to read… lately, many of yeez grand people of the readership have commented on the ‘vulnerable human emotions’ that even some of my tough guy characters display… understandably ‘tough guys’, coz they’re dealing with crime lords , drug barons, people-traffickers and the like who murder folks for idle distraction… it hadn’t occurred to me that others saw these fallibilities as qualities that enhanced the characters in their minds… then on reflection, I realized that’s exactly how I wanted them to be… coz that’s how real people are… and even a superficial glance at the 24/7 news channels will show yeez the abominations that go on daily around the WURLD… I have no desire to become a political commentator, but I’d consider myself less of a human being If I were not touched by some of the things I hear and see… in my latest book, DEADLY IMPASSE (and this is seriously not meant to be a ‘plug’, but I’ll list it here anyway), …among other things, I deal with part of the migrant issue, where so many people in desperation try to reach across the Mediterranean and drown on the way…
…touchy-feely stuff for my principal characters right there... and although I’m an author peddling fiction, some of the stark reality does creep into my writing… here’s a poem I knocked out recently which some of yeez may have seen already…
How many more migrants must we lose?
Hold on tight, don’t cry, my son,
This will not last too long.
Listen how your Mama sings
Your favourite nursing song.
This water will not harm us now
We’re nearly at the shore.
Be strong and brave, my boy
And we’ll be wet no more.
Yes, yes, that wave was huge, I know,
But hang on tight, be safe with me.
This darkness merely hides the land
We’re getting closer now, you’ll see.
The sea is wild but brings us fast.
This wind behind our back
Will blow us into land quite soon.
Watch us veer and tack.
No, please don’t cry, my lad,
I’m here to hold you tight
This angry sea won’t harm you
We’ll be safe ere blows the night
Talk to Papa, tell me things,
All the things you’d like to say.
Tell me how we’ll live our lives
On the shore we near this day.
Papa, truly, truly I am scared
These waves are far too tall.
And this darkness blinds my eyes.
I hate this, hate this all.
Papa, Papa, the boat is tipping over,
Papa, Papa, where’s your hand?
Papa, Papa, catch me please.
Papa, Papa……….. Papa?
Seumas Gallacher
October 16th, 2016
…see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!…
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Thanks for the poem. Very touching indeed. No, I’m not crying. It’s just something in my eye (a bit of your poem, I guess). Thanks.
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…LUVZYA, m’Lady, Olga 🙂
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I do it all the time! Of course I write different stories, with a romance one does get “touchy-freely”.
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..indeed 🙂
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And, as you know I love the poem.
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…mwaaah , m’Lady, Rohini 🙂
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Fabulous poem, Seumas. Palpable emotion. 🙂
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..thank you , m’Lady, Tess 🙂
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You roit bastard. I’m blubbering all over me keyboard … that poem out to be sent to everyone who ever grumbled about ‘them’.
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…I’m not a politician (thank God!), but a human being, hopefully like most of the rest of the decent people in the world…
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Heartrending, Seumas. Great stuff. And to think some of them make it these days only to be sent back. It’s beyond sad. —- Suzanne
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…so much wrong with the whole scenario, m’Lady 🙂
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Reblogged this on Kate McClelland.
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..thanks for the reblog, m’Lady, Kate 🙂
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you’re welcome :0)
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