On being Irish…

alone-ietmages-17-300x199In this verse no one will die

No one is sick or will grieve

It is not that everyone’s blissful

For that would be a silly lie

But we could use a reprieve

From  the funereal hymnal.

 

This could be about life or joy

Pleasant parks, a May flower

Yet some don’t love the Spring

Allergies and rain may annoy

For some it’s love turned sour

Or that they’re denied a ring

 

Can-do bravery is pleasing

Psalms of life, into the valley

When others perish bravely

We’re moved to day seizing

Coup de grâce to de foudre

Lifely lived, lively not gravely

 

But I’m Irish – death’s our theme

The grave the cradle’s twin

Gentle Lady silenced by Joyce

Heanley’s Naturalist midstream

Yeats killed off Paddy Flynn

Wilde at the grave’s lost voice

 

But I’ve promised no decay

Disease, mortality or demise

Instead we’ll think of the morn

And life as a grand parfait

Beauty we will not despise

Nor emote so as to mourn

 

So here is the happy end

Ever after, fondly, cheerful

Hoping you feel better with this

And sleep better, life commend

Laughing instead of tearful

And not dying (today) is bliss

 

Then there is the miracle

When death is itself done in

But how often does that occur

Hope is fine, gullibility satirical

And none escapes original sin

For death one may not defer

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Beginning to remember…

rememberThey say that you start to remember when you
start to speak; my question is does it matter if one never
shuts up? I’ve run on and on since I could and plan to
continue until I can’t (and even then I imagine a good
fight to get the last word in).

So, if speaking is memory, volume is excitement,
slurring too much of a good thing, and I’ve been
told I don’t know how to whisper, then my plan is to
talk death to death with determination which is the
Irish in me, don’t you know.

Talking death to death…

On the Gift of Speech

They say that you start
to remember when you
start to speak; my question
is does it matter if one never
shuts up? I’ve run on and on
since I could and plan to
continue until I can’t (and
even then I imagine a good
fight to get the last word in).

So, if speaking is memory,
volume is excitement,
slurring too much of a
good thing, and I’ve been
told I don’t know how to
whisper, then my plan is to
talk death to death with
determination which is the
Irish in me, don’t you know.