Monthly Archives: September 2013

Passing Beauty

374-934xi dare you

About her lissome body

her dress hung and clung and swung

her movement irresistible

sure, innocent and young.

Her eyes were fierce and fearless

you could see so deep inside

no foolish doubts within her

could enter, or reside

Retrousse nose and nostril

swept fragile to a flare

high and flat her cheekbone

it isn’t nice to stare

But on through glory’s archway

she muscled, carelessly

all eyes followed, powerless

in raptured ecstacy

For as surely as heaven

is really here on earth

by the beholder only

is beauty given birth.

passing beauty


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For Kevin McEvoy

Oh he’d drop by of a Sunday noon

by the way for tea and a yarn

and we’d set out on a journey

the long way round the barn

For I knew he had a little gra

for one of the girls, or two

he didn’t mind one little bit

that I knew he knew I knew

He’d take his seat and produce the sweets

and the craic would start

and he’d play his part

and we’d take a cup of tea

and I was glad to sit right back

and be entertained with ease

by as sweet and fine a gentleman

as could ever shoot the breeze.

All of us grew more fond of him

as time swept gaily by

and liked to see, when the girls came in

that twinkle in his eye.

Ah, he has passed on by, now

on his considerate, careful way

and you’d miss his treats of a Sunday

and the surprising things he’d say

For there’s no harm done

to like someone

to feel that glow inside

like poverty or riches

love is difficult to hide.

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September 17, 2013 · 15:48


youth in shadow

I’m a honeybee so humble

And busy at my task

Let me be, I’ll help you

Is that too much to ask?


I may seem to you a loner

But I’m a socialist at heart

For the good of the greatest number

I strive to play my part


And even if I’m miniscule

And my life is short in span

I know that I’m essential

To this family of man


Will no-one speak up for me?

Don’t poison all the land

Don’t tear away the hedgerows

Stop biting Nature’s hand


For I have heard some whispers

And sobbing on the breeze

Gaia and her consorts

Have fallen to their knees


For we are all of us God’s creatures

Our fates are intertwined

Wherever bees are bound for

Man must follow, close behind.


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Holy Heavens


Hereafter, in Elysium

by crystal streams with mossy banks

and shady groves around

there apple trees and grapevines

and virgins too abound.

Where no rain falls

or mist or cloud intrudes

and time stands still or dances on

according to our moods.

And as we proceed through pleasure

our shining shadows tingle-

no, tinkle in the breeze,

the stupendous and the intake of breath

are both so close to hand

which incredibly, delightfully also

clasps a magic wand.

Authority takes no hold here

there is no sorrow either, too

I wonder what in heaven

we are ever meant to do.

How wonderful, how terrible

how simply ice-cold blue.

It may be so here now already

and we who misconstrue.


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How are you going on?

repartee the troubador

The French we know they have it
they call it repartee
the English they converse at length
the craic to you and me

It’s the sweetest of ingredients
round a table decked with ham
aye sweeter if it’s possible
than Nigella’s breast- of lamb

And when old and young men gather
and women are let in
there is no music finer
than the hubbub and the din

Of wanton careless chatter
or profound philosophy
there’s nought to beat a natter
or a yarn or two,or three

It’s the heartbeat of the country
the lifeblood of the town
it even makes the city wheels
keep on going round

Go on and get it off your chest
or bare your very soul
a little chat will banish stress
and repair your spirit, whole.

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A matter of taste

Our ones often laugh at me. My tastes are, apparently, esoteric. Correct and right, I agree. Esoteric is a word to which I ascribe, quite arbitrarily, the feminine gender. I can remember the moment when we first met and what she was wearing  at the time. I fell in love instantly. She has some gorgeous sisters, and I may,in due course, if the mood takes me, after I cut my nails, introduce you.

She was hanging about the debating hall doorway in the students union, a doorway which stands, conveniently, adjacent to the union bar. Rather scantily attired too. She indicated no intention of making herself known to me. Shyly, (I always feel shy when I feel real affection. When I don’t care, I don’t give a damn) I pushed past her in time to witness a fantastic occurrence.

A tall blonde chap rose up and addressed the speaker from the back of the hall with the words, “You overwashed public effing schoolboy! When the red revolution comes I will save a bullet for you…” He continued his tirade until, realizing that his pint glass was empty, and bristling with chagrin, (justifiably so in my view for there are few predicaments more irritant than the stewardship of an empty beer glass), he made a glorious exit, straight across the foyer to the bar, to which he administered a severe thumping while demanding “four pints of wallop and be damn quick about it!”

He went on, you’ll not be surprised to hear, to pursue a successful career in television and unbeknownst to himself,has borne with him all this time, some of my esteem. No mean feat, for it is frequently withheld.

Returning then to another, more ephemeral recipient of that same esteem, Miss Esoteric (I am tempted to add an ‘a’ to embellish her attractiveness and emphasize her gender. Oh, those dimples!) I was absolutely delighted to discover as I came to know her better, that she was known only to very few, had unusual taste, and, happily, reciprocated my affections. More about her sisters, Panache and Beatrice, anon.

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Down that long and lovely

lonely canyon

That lies alongside time

Where peaceful, kissful arroyos

Attend and stretch and mime

The desire of wonder’s yearnings

It’s there I’ll surely find

What meaning is and sense is

And warmth I may decline.

If it suits me I will wear it

And never pay no mind

To other noise and fretting

Which assails your heart and mine

And in some lonesome valley

With humming bee and swine

There I will disport myself

With honeyed milk and wine

And this that’s now about me

Will lie aghast, behind,

Unreal,Unseen, Supine.

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September 11, 2013 · 21:44