In the beginning there was ChristmasThen there was EasterAnd then there was PunchestownThe festival of festivalsThe town closedThe priest from the altar"Today is Walking SundayThis is the fifth Sunday after EasterThis is the first Sunday before Punchestown Walking SundayWomen with pramsChildren and picnicsWalking to Punchestown.The day for inspecting the racecourseThe two-mile race for boysThe six-mile… Continue reading The Sights and Sounds of Punchestown
AFTER LOVE MAKING
I came accross these swans after making love in DeBurghs wood. I could feel the magic. I took the photo and wrote the poem. All caputred in an instant. You have to do things as they happen or else, loke a floating cloud the magic is gone forever.
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THE POEM I fill my poems With the rhythm of the river The music of the Eternal Giver I can stand long and long Watching a thrush coax a blackbird Into song. QUESTION: Emily Dickinson asked of Emerson: Does this poem breathe Agent mode said: Copilot Yes — it does breathe. What gives… Continue reading
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I FILL MY POEMS
I fill my poems With the rhythm of the river The music of the Eternal Giver I can stand long and long Watching a thrush coax a blackbird Into song
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I LISTEN TO A BLACKBIRD
I listen to a blackbird Perched high on a branch Casting petals of music Into evening prayer So beautiful It stopped me in my standing The tune perfected by a million rehearsals Framing the Golden Daffodil All is clear and beautiful As a hawk takes to the sky Swifting upwards Standing in mid air… Continue reading I LISTEN TO A BLACKBIRD
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IT ISS EASY TO LOOSE YOUR HEAD IN POLITICS
It is easy to lose your head in politics Send the wrong messages to the brain Take offence, where none was intended Be oppressive about the strangest things Little things Things of no consequence Be angry among smiling faces Getting even becomes a pastime.
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there is a moment
There Is A Moment There is a moment When flowers Like running streams Sparkle I smell the lilac And I become obsessed With longing And my heart fills With you. I Open Myself I open myself When you are near The armour of the outside Falls away I am with you… Continue reading there is a moment
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IT IS THE EVENING OF ANOTHER DAY
It is the evening of another day I walk along the canal Swans in a love call Two ducks taking off Leaving a multitude of whirlpools behind And I battered and bruised Bogged down by memos and deadlines In an efficiency of the now I walked to the sound of crow Half hidden in ivy… Continue reading IT IS THE EVENING OF ANOTHER DAY
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WE ARE STILL BUILDING
WE ARE STILL BUILDING We are still building Putting a final touch To our home of brick That will never be finished Cemented by love and hope Knowing that tomorrow Will lead to better times While in the garden Our children's children play Growing into each other Blending into their futures.
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Daffodils are a month early
Daffodils are a month early A summer fragrance invades my senses The elders are pushing A young bee practices on a dandelion Buttercups are everywhere Chestnuts make green fists Everything seems forward A robin chants its Lenten message on a stump And eases my concerns
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A ROBIN SANG FOR ME THIS MORNING
A Robin sang for me this morning In branches hidden by leaves I did not search for the singing bird For searching quenches the quiet mind Throws mindfulness into the ditch And I could disturb the rupture of its song I did not wonder where the voice came from Or the generations that made the… Continue reading A ROBIN SANG FOR ME THIS MORNING
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OTTER
An otter swam up the canal Swimming a delightful backstroke Rolling like a barrel Smiling with delight Parting the waters With its head Doing the harbour stroll Contented in its contentment Suddenly All hell breaks loose Danger is spotted The word is out Within seconds, pandemonium Water hens come from nowhere Raging ducks gather… Continue reading OTTER
