Rita Ann Higgins

Rita Ann Higgins Poems

The demented walk tricky step here
jittery footfall, fractious jibe.
They bicker in the ‘everything for a $ shop'
later when the energy is spent
...

2.

Go to Tuar Beag and sing for her
take only left turns
pass out the whitethorn
but remember to pay homage
...

She didn't mind his toxic tan
or his weasel taste in toothpaste.
What she did mind was
the way he'd Cheshire cat
...

The boy racers
quicken on the Spiddal road
in Barbie Pink souped-ups
or roulette red Honda Civics.
...

Don't throw out the loaves
with the dishes mother,
its not the double-takes so much
its that they take you by the double.
...

Question:
Can you tell me
the way to the maternity?
...

Sorrow is better than laughter,
for by a sad countenance the heart is made better.
ECCLESIASTES
...

When he says to you:
You look so beautiful
you smell so nice -
how I've missed you -
...

Rita Ann Higgins Biography

Rita Ann Higgins, born in Galway in 1955, has published numerous volumes of poetry, as well as several plays. One of 11 children, Higgins left school at 14 and first began to be interested in writing during a long stay in hospital in her 20s. In an interview she described her decision to become a poet with a typical lack of pretension: 'You didn’t have to worry about tenses and verbs. You could write a poem without a verb, and if you didn’t know what a verb was – and I didn’t – it was ok.' Her poems, similarly ironic in tone, have been awarded numerous prizes.)

The Best Poem Of Rita Ann Higgins

Ask the Concierge

The demented walk tricky step here
jittery footfall, fractious jibe.
They bicker in the ‘everything for a $ shop'
later when the energy is spent
they sit with their own selves
their underweight psyche.

One begs outside a shop called ‘seduction'
underwear to raise the titanic
healthy looking mannequins with brazen breasts
balefulls of Canadian promise.
They come hither you but you never come hither them.
Their chilling look deceptive, their cherry lips,
kiss me kiss me, but only in your dreams loser.

Further down the street of the black squirrel
a shop owner boasts about the underground,
you should see our underground
safest in the world, no one ever gets plugged here.
In a doorway above Hades, a policeman tells a man with no legs,
my name is zero tolerance have you a licence for that rig?
My name is zero tolerance, where is your mud guard?

The concierge have the real power here
they take one look at your baggage, one look at you
haversacks disgust them, owners and trainers of haversacks disgust them more.
Cross them and you will never see one drop of Niagara fall.
They wide step and side eye you,
in their loose suits, hair oil up their sleeves,
their feet are made of sponge.
They deal in looks and eyebrow raising
The Concierge code, uncrackable to the luggage losers.

Back down on the high street
I ask the man outside ‘seduction' if I can take his picture.
Don't ask me, I have no picture to give or take,
what you see is what you get, you see nothing you get less.

What the concierge seeks he finds
he pirouettes, he plucks, he spins he flies
where the concierge lives, the beggar dies.

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