Peter Kenny

The house of hidden hope

Nan hid her scotch under the sink.
Other secrets she slid between the floorboards.

I’m sad when I pass her old place,
its garden tarmacked for a Nissan car.

How easy to picture her face at the door.
How hidden everything behind her.

What’s left of her is lodged in corners,
wedged-in with mildewed money,

foxed books, broken toys
or tinselled gifts for other kids.


Peter Kenny is a poet, playwright and freelance writer working with humanitarian and health clients. His poetry publications include The Nightwork (Telltale Press 2014) and A Guernsey Double (Guernsey Arts Commission 2010), his plays are all black comedies, and include Wrong and A Glass of Nothing. He also writes horror short stories, most recent publication The Dark Fish  appeared in Horla the home of intelligent horror (Nov 2018).  He blogs at www.peterkenny.co.uk

3 thoughts on “Peter Kenny”

  1. There is an immense amount of nostalgia in this poem. I especially liked the line ‘What’s left of her lodged in corners…’ I really wanted to carry on reading after I reached the end.


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