To drink

To drink

I’ll raise a glass to demon drink

Attacker and defender of my spirits

At times it brings a joy and bonhomie

Of kindred lives and shared illusions. 

It numbs the passage of the soul

Along the path to Purgatory 

It tames life’s realities

It rounds the rougher edges

That scrape our skin and scar our soul. 

For oft reality is too much to bear

The glare of unvarnished truth too harsh....

We need escape and drink

Reduces pain and stress

Albeit momentarily. 

Poolside Blues

Poolside Blues

We are the lucky ones

At least we know

And daily thank our lucky stars

To have been born mid century 

In a country far apart

From famine and from war. 

We sit in contented groups

Around the poolside bar 

And drink the local wine

While trying all the while 

Not to ponder or to think 

How life might be

A half a century from now. 

We are a generation 

No better and no worse 

Than those who came before 

Or those who follow us behind;

But find ourselves with matches

To burn the city down. 

At times like Nero we fiddle and we pray

That the fire we once started might go away. 

At times we simply toast some bread

And guiltily eat and drink  

While watching Rome go up in flames. 

Down by the poolside bar they’re calling time

And old grey heads drink up 

Uncertain what the night might bring

Or the legacy we’ve left behind. 

Ave,Imperator, morituri te salutant...

Frequent Flyer

Frequent Flyer

Whenever I fly and the plane leaves the soil,

I know I could die, but I’m reconciled

Helpless as a babe, suspended in air,

I’m not in control, I’m in God’s hands now. 

If not today, then some day, for sure

When the choice is no longer mine, 

When the heavens draw me in as with everyone

To revert to the centre, to cleave to the core. 

At one with the world, along with the stars 

When the time is right, with any luck

To pass to the other side, to sleep with the saints

And the sinners are cleansed, there’s no difference now.  

Dear August

Dear August 

You stand politely smiling in the cocktail party 

pleasantly making small talk while glancing at the door

And wondering when you can discreetly leave 

Without offending  host and carefree  guests. 

It’s been a jolly evening but now it’s time to go

To find your scarf and jacket in the hall

Before leaving light and heat  

For winters shortening night and cooler dawn. 

Perhaps the ancient irish had placed you right

In early autumn than in late summer

Already August leaves are yellow and have hit the floor

In forests who have tired of this year already. 

The summer camps are closing now

And mothers dress their kids for school

In bigger sizes than the year before

As time marches on relentlessly. 

March musings. 2018

Who is me?

The ‘me’ of six is not the ‘me’ of sixty six

Nor forty six nor twenty six

The child in me is dead a half a century 

The older ‘me’ is as different as can be. 

‘Me’ is a hundred photos taken over time

Where slowly changes accelerate as we become

Another ‘me’ in body and soul.  

The hopes and fears have faded

And translated Into old men’s dreams

What once seemed bright and clear 

Has nuanced Into grey.  

None of the thinning hairs the same

Nor aging teeth nor pockmarked skin

Not a single atom still remains

Of ‘me’ that went to school first day. 

My name stays into eternity 

My parents and my history 

And now career and kids

Ring fence the molecules of me.  

Lay me down

Lay me down in dusty hiking boots

That have walked the pilgrim ways 

And leave me with the tattered Tilley hat

That spared the sun and stopped the rain. 

And read a will where nothing’s left

Where all is given while simply living

The banks are empty and the houses sold

To those who follow ‘long this quiet road. 

Life is for living and death for dying

To exit as we arrived

Give us today our daily bread

For  tomorrow, dear, has died. 

To have glided through this world 

To have walked with gentle step

And leaving now with e’er a trace

Returning home to dust and space. 

Last day

I think today might be the last 

Of this my life with chapter ended

Mid-word, mid-sentence. 

The only way to go. 

If not today then sometime

Hopefully, suddenly,

Without announcement

Or premeditated show. 

Being the last day, possibly

I smiled a little more

At girls and morning walkers

Along El Medano shore. 

I drank my coffee with studied ease

And took ages eating toast and cheese

Savoring each mouthful, perhaps my last

What a way to enjoy breakfast!

The sun seemed brighter 

The sea gleamed bluer

Good bye dear world 

And thanks for everything. 

Better

There is no better time than now

There is no better place than here

There is no better soul than I

As far as I can see

Now, now is better far

Than  then, then. 

Here, here I’ll  stay awhile

Than silly wandering.  

And as for me, I’m wonderful

And as for you, you’re fine

At least to me and that’s what matters

Sitting by the sea while nodding sleepily. 

A February Funeral.

The Quaker Meeting House falls still

The birds are singing spring songs in the trees

The muffled hum of traffic in Blackrock

Broken only by the siren wail of ambulances. 

A Friend is laid to rest quietly

Without the trappings of a ritual

The  silence invites the spirit 

To travel through the stars and time. 

To an hour and a place

Where old Friends meet again

Below the dipping branches

Where spring is sprung eternally. 

Sorrow and hope bound to one another 

Mixed together and shaken

Twin faces watch in both directions

Embracing joy and sadness. 

El Puertito 18.00 hours 

Have I died and gone to heaven?

Or am I still in Tenerife?

In Paradise with whitened domes

Which we name our second home. 

The sun is setting on a Saturday 

Crowning a November evening. 

Puertito  is still abuzz

As tourists come and go. 

Mixing with the locals at the bar

That nestles by the sea

Above a pretty beach

We’ll have a beer or three. 

Young and old enjoy the pleasures

Of simple seaside games 

Nature gives and lavishes

Her gifts to all for free

Little dogs and children 

Frolic in the spray

The world is young and life is simple

Along Puertito Bay. 

The boats are floating on a silver sea

The sun is slowly setting

The earth just holds its breath

Serenely for peace is settling. 

The distant storm

The distant storm is gathering afar

Beyond the bluey fringes of Palm Mar

Whose quiet verdant tinges

Display no signs of troubles yet. 

The sleepy noonday heat bakes silent streets

Untroubled paradise for centuries

No sounds of rumbling thunder 

Or lightning above black seas. 

Like sleepy children before the war 

We dream of unchanged days

And gentle winds that will always kiss

The temperate Canary soil. 

Thirty years from now seems far away

For changing climate to bother us 

Hidden in nature’s soft embrace

Nothing can touch us now

Not yet 

I’ll cry when I say goodbye

I’ll cry when I say goodbye

I cannot manage smiling

Smiling’s overrated and the world is sated

With pearly whites at funerals. 

Let’s allow ourselves a frown

When feeling down when saying bye

It’s not all bad to be feeling sad

When people leave our homes and lives. 

Maybe I’m mad, but you’re surely not glad

I’m leaving now and the future’s

Never sure or steady

I don’t know what I’ve got

I don’t know what I’ve got

Perhaps I’d rather not

Know the illness or

Condition that will kill me. 

Too much info

Is the burden of a nation 

When ignorance is bliss

Seal silence with a kiss. 

Marching on and up

Is the only way to go

There is no point in looking back

The wife of Lot did that. 

Pressing forward stoically 

Wrestling illness heroically

Let’s not name the bastard

Let him die within me quietly. 

Not every sickness deserves a name

I’d rather pass if it’s all the same

The world doesn’t need to know

Not every secret is for show.