Denis Ahern's Poem Page
	Denis Ahern has been associated with the Sail Loft since its first year. Live renditions of his poems are a well received feature of Sail Loft evenings. Usually the subjects covered are bawdy and raucous in nature. This website feature provides a platform for some of his more sensitive works – Stop laughing, you at the back! For this fifth edition he offers one that has a bit of a twist in the tail, though you'd expect no less from Denis! We hope you enjoy it. While you're here, Denis would like to know if you have any interesting rhymes for the word 'nostril'. In case you're wondering, no ... we didn't ask! You can contact Denis on: wordsahern@fsmail.net . Most comments are welcome. To see his latest poem click below: Click here to go back
The Nail Where the Fiddle Hung The day he left the old homestead From a nail in the kitchen wall He took down his bow and his fiddle, Wrapped them safe in a woollen shawl. Amid tearful farewells and best wishes He faced the emigrants' road, The fiddle among his scant possessions, Seeking his fortune abroad. Then in the hustling heart of Chicago With little time for a jig or a reel He wised up in the ways of the city, Learned to wheel and to deal. And pauses in the high pressure living Were few and far between And fewer still moments to remember What joy music had been. As years went by and his wealth grew, His memories didn't quite fade, They were just sort of neglected Like a seed that grows in the shade. Then alone but wealthy late in life He thought to see once more The old house he'd left so far behind And set off for his native shore. He found the house, a roofless ruin; He stood and gazed about, Saw that nail in the wall, memories stirred. With a pliers he pulled it out. Back in his Chicago penthouse With the fiddle unwrapped from the shawl He took that nail and a hammer To a spot in the kitchen wall. Amid all the designer appliances, The sparkling glass and steel, The fiddle, the bow and the faded shawl Brought a touch of something real. The old tunes came back, those strings would sing, Sing loud as once they sang. Then he drove the nail deep with the hammer, Hit a gas pipe and went with a bang. Denis Ahern

Home page, quick events view, diary page, friends of the Sail Loft, Public Entertainments License, directions to the Sail Loft, contact us

contact the web designer