Not so much looking down as across..

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Leadership and other thoughts, August 2012
He had the gift
We felt the lift
Smiling as you met
Laughing as we left
Time for only you alone
For in that moment
You were the only one
It was simply you and him
How was it that you felt
Did resistance melt?
It may have been a spell
No one could really tell
But no one cared
And no one spared
Their joyful giving
For the cause was living
Tired but happy fools perhaps
Ecstasy and agony
Mattered not a bit
Content to serve
A cause bigger than ourselves
Carpe Diem!
Seize the day, squeeze it dry
Drink the sun while it’s high
Smell the beans, enjoy the taste
Grasp the moment, none to waste.
Embrace the person, next to you
Give one last hug, it might be true
You can save your money, but not your time
I may be poor but the ‘now’ is mine
For money blinds and dulls the sight
Looking the wrong way with all it's might
I've got today, that's all maybe
I’ve got you, that’s enough for me
Joyce’s regret
The startling clouds
All black and gold
Sit on the Dublin Hills
They threaten and give joy
What holds him back
From seeing Dublin Bay again?
Written in his heart
Strangled by strange pride
The passing years build up the wall
And lower the rampart floor
A virtue is fashioned needlessly
Quietly at night the familiar  calls
Of sea gull and of cormorant
Gone forever the three steeples
Of Glasthule and Dun Laoghaire
The handsome granite piers
Hewn from Dalkey quarry
And all the while the clouds bank up
Layer by layer over Sandymount Strand
Gone and gone is Dun Leary of the soul
A bitter price for artistic pride
The August evening sun peeps above
And hugs the gentle waters
Licking handsome terraced houses
Keeping watch over a changing sea
Ireland of his youth
Dublin of his dreams
Now but the artists palette
In a coast less land
Early hint of autumn in Churchtown, Dublin 14
Sitting here in the shade
Of the spreading tree
In leafy Castle Park
Car door and windows open
A gentle breeze
Rustles the leaves
Beneath the pale blue china sky
A warming sun
Full of August promise
The first few leaves
Of the early Irish autumn
Scurry along the pavement
Like playful schoolboys
Hurrying nowhere in particular
With carefree insouciance
And joyful innocence.
This magic  moment
Only came to be
Through a haircut
For an aging lady
Of almost ninety three
Confused of days and hours
Bravely facing loss of powers
The common fate of missing
The early death of friends
The nether coin side
Of the doubtful blessing
Of advanced old age.
Is how we live
The path to how we age?
And do we die
To live again?
In that same style
With little parts
That echo God
Whatever that may mean
A pigeon calls
In Castle Park
In trees above
The handsome homes
And gleaming cars
A man with silver hair
Cleans clubs with care
And sounds of grass being cut
Are punctured by the Angelus bell
From Churchtown church
Midday sounds
There is sleepy sunny peace around
While hair is cut
And ladies prolong their style

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