It’s 1976, a boy has a smoke and meets a girl He sat in the churchyard, feeling the fag packet in his pocket. He didn’t…
Author: Noel Murphy
Poem: A line in the leaves
Here’s to the summer and to love
A line at least is here at last
Along it came to make sense of the summer I see
You’re not there again
Back into the Workplace
As my new and very part-time job, I’m going to be doing Pot Wash in one of my favourite restaurants starting tonight. A hot and…
Money Makes Them Sad
I once had a conversation in a pub in Darwin, in the Northern Territory of Australia, during which I was threatened with a beating and told that the indigenous people were happier and better off before they had the vote and were paid in money.
After the Doors Open Again
Crisp snow Outside Under a cloudy, blue sky With friends Vinegar and salt Outside The chip shop We are drunk Loud music Inside…
“Where is My Dead Husband?”
I’ve just had the conversation in which you have to tell your mum that her husband is ‘no longer with us’ hoping she won’t ask, ‘Where is he?’ She asked. She kept asking.