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