Poems from Survivors

We have received poetry from survivors, and have put them online for others to view


They say your job isn’t worth a dime

That I’ll say is a serious crime

Who was there when I cut my teeth

Crawled around and played with my feet

Picked me up and gave me cuddles

Oh this world is full of muddles


Without you Mother where would we be

You gave us love and laughter all free

You taught us all we need to know

Without you Mother where would we go

No one to guide us through up’s and downs

No one to share laughter and frowns


A Mother’s job is beyond measure

My Mother is my greatest treasure

Don’t put her down as pounds and pence

This would cause a grave offence

Mother you’re worth a million to me

I’ll never be able to pay your fee.

Author’s name withheld as requested – submitted November 2018


An Orphan Child – 1948-1964

I was that lost orphan child, which I did not want to be.

I was that lost child, who lived in an environment were other children feared to go, and as a child did what others failed to do.

As a child I asked nothing from those who gave me nothing; and painfully accepted the thought of eternal loneliness, should I fail.

As an orphan child I experienced and seen the face of terror, I felt and experienced the stinging cold of fear.

As a child I never enjoyed or knew the sweet taste of a mother’s love.

As a child I have cried, pained and hoped, but most of all, I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.

But with total trust in the Lord, at least someday, going forward with a new confidence in myself as a good person, and having spoken to and for the first time in my 67 years of life been treated with the greatest honour and help and dignity by all the understanding men and women of Caranua, I will be proud to say I am an Irishman.


Abscent Love

They speak of love

Some people that I know,

They say its great to be in love,

To have no cares,

This game called life

Is good, so full of joy,

I wouldn’t know,

I’ve never been in love.

Not for a single moment,

In the tramp of years,

Have I felt needed,

Or wanted, or loved,

Not since the early days,

When in an orphanage I grew,

A miserable, unwanted child

And in the passing years,

I knew that life would not be sweet,

I knew then, as I know now

Of those battles that defeat.

For who can there be loved,

If love’s not given

And who can come from cradle unto youth,

With love unheard of, in the daily life

And who from these arrangements,

Can there come, equipped to love,

To share in joy and riches,

Tell me Monsieur,

Tell me who?