Last impressions

  Happy doing nothing Happy doing nothing on a sunny morning  Walking down the avenues with pines Throwing shadows on the forest paths The pale blue sky between the clouds That dance and waltz with verve Above school yards where children play  And harvest memories for their past In sixty years in a world please God No different from the last.  Bedroom windows thrown wide open Not a care in sight Dappled bright through woodland light.  Doting grannies pushing strollers Harried mothers calling children To hurry while the going’s good.  Bent over men in crumpled suits Shuffle in the shade  Retelling tales from yesterday.   All this on a sweet, sweet day  We’ll never see again Blessèd for being normal.  These precious days that slip away Never to return Fastened in our memories.  These fading hours are ne’er forgotten They linger in our souls  Cherished, valued, treasured.  

  She made   She made the morning sounds The noises from her bedroom The rush of water from the shower The hiss of perfumes as they wafted Across the landing down the stairs To where the coffee’s brewing The magic moments of the morning The daily miracle that’s never boring.  The dog is sleeping in her basket She’s getting old and doesn’t wake Until she’s greeted by her master And the smell of currant cake.  All her joys are simple now The grace of looking at the trees Now clad in in green Spring leaves Leaving a little gap in between  To watch white clouds that scurry past Above the Irish Sea Above the copse that rings with song From busy birds who toil along  To fashion nests for little ones  Who in turn come back each year To fill our lives, to give us cheer On a simple April morning.  The Sunday bells are tolling loud From Churches ‘cross Dun Laoghaire  But today I’ll sit and pray Greeting heaven where I find it.  

  She did not believe   She did not believe in the after life The life hereafter was all a con; She judged in that decisive way She brought to business and to love.  Dismissed in youth and ne’er recalled What was rejected no longer held  As she moved to better things Or things that felt much stronger.  Her younger brother was unsure And sought to hedge his future He sneaked into Sunday Mass  Before the Creed recital.  He outlived his siblings and died In a nursing home in his eighties  Stricken with fear and concern Unsure of what lay before him.  Happy those who die a good death Who feel the welcome of the Lord When they answer to his call Into his house high up in heaven.  Blessed are they without a pause Who cross the river from this life Without ambition or fear At peace at last in safety. 

  Dump  Dump Trump from your life As soon as you can Wipe your mind clean Of this horrible man.  Don’t cave to a bully Don’t yield to his whims  Give him sweet nothing Just simply forget him.  He’s an insecure joke This loathsome old bloke He might even choke On his burger and coke.  Principles cost money  I’ll pay any price  To exile this madman  To get rid of this dirt.  He’s loyal to no one  It’s a mystery to me Why anyone listens Why so few can see. He preys on their fears He gives them false hope  They never learn lessons We all know that folk Seeming clever but stupid  Running a race  From themselves, from the truth Til they run out of space.  Shut him out  Turn him off  Reclaim your life He’s trouble and strife.  Go to the playroom Turn off the remote  Never look, never listen You’ve more things to see More things to see More travels ahead Turn down the volume Get him out of your head....

Snug in bed Snug in bed with blankets up To my chin this rainy April day  The drumbeat of the raindrops Falling on the Velux roof lights  That frame the sky above the trees That flower Easter buds The window panes weep with water Run like tears that streak That keep me safe and warm Safe from callous winds Tucked up and grateful For refuge on Good Friday.  On days like this my mother said  “God bless the poor and keep them safe” Conscious of those with no shelter No protection from the elements.  Mindful like the Lord of those  Less fortunate than herself Secure in suburban houses She never took for granted. 

  The piers The piers stretching out into the sea From the Harbour of Dun Leary Like open arms to the traveler  A welcome to weary sailors.  A stunning weekend in April The tide a rippling mirror An Impressionist tableau in the water Reflecting handsome town spires.  The boats tied up at their moorings In the hope of summer ahead Long hours of catching the wind In dinghies in all kinds of colors.  Can this fragile beauty sustain The gathering clouds in the west Beyond the horizon, beyond all reason The madness of an ignorant nation.  For now, we’ll amble in peace Walk dogs while eating ice creams We’ll be thankful today for each single ray Of the sun that sets over the city.