And then

 And then...

Just a few hours ago Lorraine received her first Astra Zeneca jab without any delay or fuss. It seems the HSE appreciates 66 year olds above 69 year olds. But it was ever thus. 

Within two weeks we should be able tentatively to reengage with our granddaughter and thereafter society generally, cautiously and for present outdoors. Meeting in pubs and traveling on planes will return but they seem a far off chimera right now. We have all come a long way. And we have survived. And learned a few useful things. 

So it’s the correct time to hang up the writer’s boots the and lay down the pen -  for present at least and turn to activities appropriate to the summer. Thank you for your company. 

Two shorten the road, in Gaelic....

Gioraíonn beirt bóthar

26/4/21

Glenageary. 

Words

 Words 

Words have been my faithful friends

As long as I remember 

But recently we’re making strange

Writing takes a little longer. 

Some words look plain weird 

As if they’re spelled the wrong way round

Thank heavens for the spell check

Google is a constant savior. 

The crowded party now’s grown thin

No longer easy to trap the words

That once were friends and neighbors 

Now we simply nod and grin. 

But no regrets I’ve loved them all

Used some well, and others badly

I hope they have nice things to say

As I make my writer’s journey.  

Same days

 All days the same 

Quakers have this noble notion

God created all days the same  

Important then to worship him

On a Monday as on Sunday. 

Birthdays too should matter little

No need to make a Christmas fuss

Days and months are known by numbers

Meeting houses have no steeple. 

Men and women created equal

No paid preachers no clerics either

The voice of each one weighs the same

Save the earth to bless his name. 

No loud choirs with rousing hymns 

No long sermons predicting hell

Just a circle sitting silently

Waiting on the Spirit’s song

Which is wordless because in truth

Words bring more trouble than they’re worth 

No need to promise, just accomplish 

Actions always speak the loudest. 

Aviva

 Aviva reunion. 

Queueing for hours in rugby’s Aviva

Surrounded by folk born in fifty one

Some looking younger and some a bit older

Than sixty nine years with the passage of time. 

We the high babies of fifty five

Seem back in our desks where it all begun

Sixty six years have come and gone 

Since the first day of school came along. 

I got a jab with a lad

Born the same year as me

I got a jab with a hon

Born in fifty one. 

We three had somehow survived

With our scars as a badge of honor 

We three had attended school

On early Saturday mornings. 

Behind our masks hid the lines

That announced approaching seventy

The fabric of our life and travels 

Etched in our eyes and mannerisms

We dressed for comfort not to impress

Either girl or boy or anybody 

We’d made our statements long ago

Silence now a remedy. 

We are the Oxford Astra babies 

But survive it we surely will

We the children of the fifties

Are just too bloody minded. 

We’ll meet again 

In three months time

To get the second jab and

The key to future freedom. 

A happy second meeting 

Then off we sail in a breeze

Once again into the deep seas

Of time and happier history. 

Knowing full well that when

We meet some years in the future

Beyond the pearly gates long queues

No longer will await us. 

Tonight

 Tonight

Should I die tonight happy I’ll be

Knowing I’ve reached nearly seventy

Enjoyed the care of family

Years of fun and laughter

Enough success and the odd disaster

I’ve had more than my share 

Of the earth’s sweet fruits 

Of bright spring dawns

And russet autumn sunsets. 

I’ve seen the world 

And walked the beaches

Enjoyed the best of food 

The world can serve us. 

Should I die tonight sad I’ll be

For I haven’t said goodbye 

To all the folk and family

There’s another dawn for me

Rise above the Irish Sea 

I’ve still got plans you see

I’ve a bucket list to complete 

With castles in deep valleys

And friends to greet again

When this long plague is over 

With bright music to enjoy

With friendships to rekindle 

Family to embrace

Over early morning coffee

And lazy evening dinners. 

When the time is right I hope

To shuffle off the stage

I hope I’ll know the hour

When my script is over. 

Because death gives me no fear

Just the fear of missing

Something with my name on it

The Lord sent  me in person. 

So drift into the West I will

But so far no voice is calling

So I think I’ll soundly sleep

Waking up tomorrow morning

Simon

 Simon 

Not so simple Simon cleaning windows

With a smile both rueful and disarming 

Up the ladder with his bucket

Always time to discuss a novel. 

Happy to chat and discuss bestsellers  

Better read than any writer 

Familiar with classics, old and new

Better informed than me or you. 

Progress marked the march of years

His trusty bike gave way to better wheels 

That cheeky schoolboy grin

A better man than I Gunga Din. 

Covid came and we lost contact

Often thinking fondly through the panes 

Of the cleaner who cheered us up

Discussing Shakespeare and Fontaine. 

Today we learned of his fast demise

A blood clot sadly did the damage 

And robbed us of our learned cleaner

His broad wide smile up his metal ladder. 

Tradesmen come and gardeners go

But Simon touched our hearts and so

Each time we look out the window

We’ll remember him in sun and snow. 

Te deum

 Friday

It’s a Friday in April

The tide is a turning

Hope is a rising

No more despairing.  

Now gone are the doubts

We don’t even miss them

Confidence grows 

In everyone’s breast. 

The naysayers silenced

The pessimists banished

Before us extends

The bright promised land. 

People out walking

Their strides are more open

Their shoulders thrown back 

Embracing the sun. 

The last year a nightmare 

There is no denying 

Now looking forward we strive 

Very soon to arrive

At a land of white milk

And glorious honey

Promised by vaccines

Better than money. 

First Astra Zeneca jab 21/4/21

Prince Philip

 Prince Philip 1921-2021

She cut a lonely figure

A tiny widow in a tall cathedral

Anguish bowed her noble back

Like a starling petite and black. 

A royal couple who had shared their lives

With all the world from our earliest times

And when he died we died a little too

Because a part of us had left from view. 

He was not perfect, nor are we

Perfection’s overrated, he might say. 

His perseverance was rewarded

All good comes to those serve and wait. 

He  did the country sterling service

While living in his gilded cage

That clipped his wings, have him obey

The ancient rituals day by day. 

He heard the call that came from God

For duty rang and called the shots

Thus everything found focus 

For Windsor wasn’t Camelot. 

A true love match

A true love story

That rose above the critics

And far outlasted cynics. 

Now it’s time for all his clan

To step outside into the sun

To write a chapter of their own

And stand united round the throne. 

A Plane

 A plane

I saw a plane today, 

I know, the strangest sight 

Leaving a streeling plume

Coming from the south. 

Arriving to a Covid country

It’s passengers in masks

Gone the glamour and the fun

Of traveling in the past. 

We’ll return I guess someday

To traveling through the skies 

Just now I can’t sum up

Excitement for that ride. 

Maybe things will come back again

Return to once they were

I’m not sure I want to

Endure that ballyhoo. 

Queues in airports queues on planes

Herded like sheep without a name

Off with your belt, on with your mask

Surely there’s some other nicer task?

Emigrating - that’s a need

But a short weekend abroad?

That’s not for me

I’ll settle for the Irish Sea.  

This Morning

 This morning 

This morning’s delicious 

The sun’s beaming down

From a blue sky in April 

For the winter is over

The summer seems nigh. 

Our spirits are lifted

Hearts ascend higher

Than the tall chapel spire

In Ladys fair Island

By the  beautiful lake

Home to the migrants 

Winging their way

From sunnier climes. 

A spirit brimming over 

Believing and praying 

A dark winter has ended

A better time looming

When parents and children

File down to the beaches

That haven’t seen footprints

Since the summer had ended. 

The world is returning 

To a place that is changing

But laughter and cheer

Are always remaining

Release

 Release

Release, let go the bitter thoughts

Let go, release the anxious fears 

Into the sea we walk along

And let the tide bring out again

When it turns and when the waves

Wash our soul and the winds

Refresh our face. 

Breathe in, breath out 

While soaking in the balm

Of ocean swells and lapping waters

On a shore made whole again

On an earth that turns and hurtles

Round a sun that makes its way

To the corners of the universe. 

On a journey that has no history

On a road that is unmarked 

Miles per second and we worry

Over things that never happen

Over trifles that shouldn’t keep us

Alarmed by day, awake at night.  

Sniper

 Sniper

This Covid’s a sniper

Picking us off

When least we expect it

When dropping our guard. 

He’s dropping the shoppers

Like in Sarajevo

He’s wounding the youngsters

As in the Arena

He doesn’t give tuppence

For your thoughts or your  prayers,

He’ll trip you without pity

As you’re heading downstairs. 

Whether gentle or evil

He doesn’t distinguish

Heartless and cruel

He’ll fight to the finish

Just let down your guard 

And you’ll be certainly punished. 

You’ve changed now you tell me

But sadly not he

More vicious than ever

Where once taking two

He’s now taking three

A stake in his heart

To make sure he’s dead

Then we can exit to sun,

And party instead. 

Blinded by Brexit

Blinded by Brexit

Blinded by Brexit

A proud nation limps on

Like a man with a shovel

Who keeps digging along

A fissure that opens 

Dividing a country  

Driven mad by a virus 

That predated Covid. 

A once sensible people 

Some now barking and mad

One could not imagine

So needless and sad. 

Everything seen through

Union Jack glasses

Spec-savers was closed 

So it’s unfocused lenses.

The periscope’s fogged 

The world’s out of focus 

They should come up for some air

They should rise to surface. 

A clear minded country

That once ruled the waves

Now flounders in shallows;

No freedom to travel

A proud people ruined

By a press than enslaves

And a party that lies

To a people who won’t

Wake up and smell

The stench of corruption

Of a self serving elite 

Nesting like cuckoos

In Ten Downing Street. 

I meet you and weep

In your quaint nursing home

The nurses are nice

Disinfectant is cheap. 

You do not remember

The wonderful times

We spent on the Med

Drinking red wine. 

My visiting time 

Has come to a close

I can see from your eyes

You don’t recognize. 

A savage disease

Has ravaged your body

For the Brexit contagion

Has destroyed half a nation. 

I’ll visit again

The same time next Sunday

Though all is forgotten

By breakfast on Monday. 

Knock knock

 Knock knock

Is that a knock I hear?

I wait a second and continue

To fill in many forms 

Required by the doctor. 

Is that a knock I hear?

I must be mistaken and inspect

The detailed questionnaire

To insure my house next May 

Four calls later and I’m sorted 

Three items more and that’s it

With paperwork and all the forms

In modern life it is the norm. 

Another quiet knock and I turn

And welcome in a gentle man

Who drinks some tea and shares the chat

And bids me well at what I’m at. 

Nice of him to come and visit

No formal message, no posted letter

A quiet knock, a pleasant call

A friendly chat, that’s all. 

I thought this fellow lived in a sanctuary

With lighted candles in a monastery 

Turns out I’m wrong, he’s always near

Bringing peace and love and cheer. 

In the Synagogue

In the Synagogue 

The faithful fidgeted

The chosen of God wondered 

What the carpenter’s son

Might say this Sabbath. 

Every seat was taken

Every pew was full

To listen to what Jesus

Might say this Saturday. 

He never failed to entertain

To challenge and surprise 

Turning well known sayings

Upside down and on their heads.  

Nothing was sacred for

Even the roof was taken off

To lower a stricken man

Looking for a cure on the cheap. 

There was a doctor and a chemist

But no, his pushy family

Upset the sermon in full flow

In what became a holy show. 

The time came soon enough

When he moved on and his rabble too. 

Spared now of parables and discomfort

Back to lighting candles and the incense. 

Life back then was tough enough

With the Romans to endure

No need to include the Philistines 

Or worse again Samaritans impure. 

A chosen people could remain just that

Comfortable in their isolation

With a noble history of suffering

Just let the world spin on. 

Two thousand years later

And the church founded in his name

Faces quandaries and challenges 

Much seems just the same. 

Theology

 Theology

I sat at my desk in the seminary

Excited at my first day of theology

The professor struggling with books

Explained the ninety five lessons it took

To explain God through the ages. 

He outlined in the simplest terms

The central message we had to learn

That God could not be described 

In pictures, sounds or in words . 

So carefully I closed  my books 

At end of class that day

There and then deciding

I’d skip the rest of the year

Believing the teacher was right.  

If there is nothing we can certainly say 

What’s the point in guessing away?

Writing about writing, suppositions and theories,

On a subject the eye hasn’t seen

And the ear hasn’t heard?

Third Day

 Third Day 

What happened on the third day?

We’ll never know for sure

For even on the fourth day

Stories went their own way. 

There can be little doubt

That history greatly shifted

A Spirit had transformed them

For sure the gloom had lifted 

The disciples left the upper room

They had entered in their fear

Now encouraged with new hope

Preached daily far and near. 

Believing that his death

Was not the saddest thing

Death reinforced his message

Uniting seen and unseen.  

Witness to a firm belief

That hope had conquered death

However strange the form it took

In this life and thereafter.