Sweeney's friend

‘Twas in the bar that I met Sweeney’s friend,
We’d had a few, of that I am quite sure.
We had discussed the merits of a blend
That none of us had tasted there before.
It was a whiskey of a powerful mien,
Quite mellow in the look, but not the taste.
We downed a glass or two and in between
Made sure the beer did never go to waste.
By ten upon the clock we all were drunk,
But quietly, as gentlemen should be;
Old Sweeney to the floor had slowly sunk –
When suddenly by his side it seemed to me
I saw a little man dressed all in green,
Who said straight out, “Y’re stewed, me auld spalpeen!”

Trip the light fantastic!

Dear P.,

You held me in your arms, we danced all night
To music with an ever rising beat,
But though you told me that my steps were light,
Your heavy tread has damaged my poor feet!
You told me that you’d now learnt how to dance;
At last, you said, you really did know how
To waltz’ you proudly emphasised that now
You quick-stepped, rhumba’d – just give you the chance.
I took you at your words – but they were lies –
My feet have told me so, not only once
But several times. You really cannot dance
With me again. I hope you realise
That both my feet are now in plaster cast.
The doctor took one look and was aghast!


Yours, M.

Winter

Now wintertime has cast its cruel grip
On house and barn, on field and meadow too,
On every dirty town’s street, now made new,
On car and lorry, aeroplane and ship.
The stream is frozen, so too is the drain
Through which the kitchen waste was once expelled;
Hot flames must ape the distant springtime’s meld,
That all the world might come to life again.
We’ll don our furs and heavy duty wear
To keep our toes and ears and fingers warm;
We’ll search the shed until we find a pair
Of skates, then linking friendly arm in arm,
We’ll head towards the iced up river, where
The ice lies crisply cold and smooth and calm.

Midnight

A day becomes a day, a night a night,
Dying from the evening’s long held twilight
Into a darker death before the resurrecting light.

A night becomes a night, a day a day,
As the presences that were have passed away,
The future that will be is here and for a while will stay.

The bell has ring its sound of dark finality
Pointing the past to rest, and what will be
Has come to take another step towards infinity.

Rise the stars and set the moon’s pale light,
The day has gone to beckon to its night
That it is time to stay the backwards vision’s sight.

For as it lies in final rest, another
Day comes to life, the echo of the other,
Sitting within the week’s womb, a sister with her brother.

WAR

No war is just.
The terms completely contradict each other.
When nation battles nation, brother kills brother,
Justice destructs.

There is no love
In fighting for the greater human cause.
We join in battle with each other just because
We have no love.

Where is the care?
And where the listening to another point of view?
Evil can never become good, nor falsehood true –
Arret la guerre!

Yes, stop the war
For every drop of blood that we have spilled,
For every parent, every child whom we have killed
Cries out before

Our creator
For the simple justice which they have but sought;
For the values which the Son of God has taught –
Salva nos, Pater!

Sleep

Relaxing so to breathe and breathe each breath,

I now descend into the lesser death

From which tomorrow, waking, I shall rise

Feeling the sun bring life to sleep filled eyes.

Eleven haikus

Golden, buried trees
Prepare for winter’s torment
As, naked, we die.

New blossom brings bees
To the orchard’s luring colours -
Harvest yet to come.

Snow lies and freezes
In the breath of frosty days’
Solar impotence.

Morning welcomes light,
Beckoning to the coming day -
Before night returns.

I kneel and reach weeds
To dig them out, roots too.
Next week they return.

A rose smells sweetly
By the ripening onion bed.
They smell when gathered!

Garlic moments now
Excite the gardener’s harvest;
They remain in you!

Beans climb to the sun
And grow from scarlet blossoms.
The wind destroys them.

We walk, holding hands
Within the dappled forest light.
Scattering rotting leaves.

I watch the moon rise
Over distant snow clad hills;
The bright night stars fade.

Clattering over falls
The brook disturbs the quiet,
Yet is peace itself.