Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Our parents' parents

We've now become our parents' parents
As they slowly slither into senility
We take their hand and guide their steps
As once they did, with humility.

Knowing well that unlike us
Their steps will not progress
For closed in ceilings
Replace the summer skies
Of hope and growth.

The world grows small in tiny rooms
Of the most expensive nursing homes
Gone the freedom and the wish
To to rush away and run.

A world that's ruled by dinner bells;
Smells of soap and polish stay awhile
While relentless time marches on
In disinfected file

They sometimes know us, sometimes not
They live in times the world's forgot
Vivid for them the world of fifty years ago
More than the present and the now.

Defend their dignity
Protect their fragility
As they once cared for us
Babies in the cradle.


We are the resurrection people

We are the resurrection people
So Father Martin said.
It doesn't matter if on this Easter
You're still curled up in bed!

Salvation is for all of us
Not just for those in Churches.
The news that Jesus gives
Is for great for every person

Christ is risen, what can it mean?
Was he heard and and truly seen?
Or maybe it's a feeling so very strong
That he's never far away all along?



Friday, April 14, 2017




Crucify him!

Reflect not on the bleeding Christ
But on the crown of thorns
We daily weave for a bloody
And a weakened world.

A world we wound with greedy nails
Upon a cross of climate change
As life lies hanging from a cross
Our last breath dies on a poisoned wind.

Three times we denied
Before the cock crowed and died
Three times we denied
That climate was our fault
We didn't know and didn't recognize
What stared us in the face.

We got a pass from Pilate
As we washed our hands, not his,
Of any thought of cutting back
To live a poor and simple life
That the poor might simply live.
Bad Good Friday 2017

Religion has come of age
Casting a long deep shadow
On the universal stage

After years of trying
At last they got it right
The world at last is dying

And we are blowing out
The eternal flame
That warms our world.

All this talk of an angry God
Was mistaken, better we
To finish what God had started.

The lights grow dim in China
As haze and smog linger
And poison clouds grow stronger.

Miami's under water since fifty years ago
The alligators swim freely
In shopping malls you know.

The polar bear has gone
His ice flow melted sooner
He drowned and met his Maker.

Greed conquered all at last
As religion said it might
Just it's not the way
That prophets had in mind.

The lifeboat of Wexford 1907

Cast a tear for the lifeboat crew
Who lost their lives to save a few
They'd never met and never will.

They gave their lives in a winters storm
That raged four days off Wexford coast
This trip their last, let's sound the horn.

A hundred years ago
A thousand storms since
And yet we will remember them

For they battled through the waves
That crashed and smashed upon them
Thinking only of the shipwrecked crew.

Today the sea looks quiet and serene
Impossible to imagine the howl and fury
Of that sad night

We shall remember them
In plaques of stone
And heart so proud and sad

They will never be forgotten
By Wexford men so true
We will salute them, me and you.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Have you heard the birdies sing?

Have you heard the birdies sing?
It's that time and it's their thing
It's a busy time, they're on the wing
Busy, busy builders while nesting.

They're chatting and chirping
Squawking, crying and whistling
With accents gathered from far and near
Their springtime chorus is so clear.

Another year, hope springs again
Looking forward to summer days
Lazy evenings lengthen, the sun reigns
Hope and courage course in our veins.

Nature takes and nature gives
And giving comes so naturally
To birds and bees and you and me
Let us embrace eternally.


Thursday, April 6, 2017

Goodbye to all that

We ate and drank
We slept and sat
Raped and shat
Our only world

Funny now that
An awful orange man
Will haste our exit
Like a stern vet.

Happily perhaps
Our pain will not prolong
As nature takes nature's revenge
Quickly, increasingly
Measured now in years not ages.

Is God weeping tears on his throne
Or has he half forgotten
The willful sons of eve
The stubborn hearts of Adam?

Is it time for God to reinvent
A less willful race
And temper progress
To a slower pace?

Will sentient being die?
Will the starry universe
Fall silent once again
Save for crashing stars?

Is this the end foreseen
Two thousand years ago
By prophets seeing the end
But not the means.

Blessed be the God of silence
Who could not save us from ourselves.
Creating galaxies but unable
To really rescue man.

Blessed be his holy name
Unspoken now, our shane.