Sunday, July 29, 2012

FRANK SINATRA AND THE MAGPIE



FRANK SINATRA AND THE MAGPIE


She picks up the newspaper off the hall floor; the letter box is still open wide and laughing, which reminds her, that if she pretends to be happy....then she will be. Walking back into the kitchen, which is brighter now, she makes a second coffee in a floral mug, one of eight, along with a teapot, that she'd bought the week before, whilst in a chintzy mood. She crosses to the Mexican-tiled table, which is a thousand stylistic miles away from chintz, and lighting up her third cigarette, she sees the scruffy magpie again, through the patio door,  which badly needed to be cleaned. It had been hanging around her house and garden for weeks, and  even crept into the kitchen the afternoon before, while she was out at the washing line, before hot-footing it out in a panic, when she screamed at it in a superstitious outburst. 'So you're back again this morning. What do you want?' she blasts, just as Frank Sinatra is singing on the radio, '....That's why the lady is a tramp!' She slides back the patio door and steps out into the garden. 'Look Joe, (doesn't know where that came from....unless a subconscious connection to Frank's movie, Pal Joey ....!?) if you want to come visit, will you please bring a friend or lover! I have nothing against you personally, but one magpie.... on its own.... represents sorrow, and right now, I'm trying very hard to think myself happy....OK!?'



                         Frank Sinatra and Kim Novak

Door shut once more and plonking herself down on a chair, which badly needs to be re-covered, she looks at the newspaper headlines; Olympics and more Olympics. 'Great TV viewing for the next month if you have an accident and can't get out! ' she moans to the strains of Frank's finale: '....Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls, that's why the lady is a tramp!' Just then, and, almost on the last chord of the song, her attention is diverted once again to the patio door and the motion picture on the other side. Choking on excitement and coffee, she splutters, 'Oh my God, I can't believe it!' Joe was back, and proving that he had listened to her pleas; he had returned this time, with a pal....his girlfriend....his lady....his tramp,,,,.his Kim!. 'Two magpies ....two for joy! Thanks Joe!' She frowns as she thinks about the bad press that magpies get. 'Not always deserved,' she whistles. She turns on the hot tap, that needs to be fixed badly, and filling a bucket ready to clean the patio window, she finds herself singing, 'Hate California, it's cold and it's damp, that is why the lady is a tramp!' 


Oh Yeah.......







Maureen Walsh - July 2012















Ciao for now!

Friday, July 27, 2012

CROSSED WIRE






CROSSED WIRE



From whose egg were you sucked?
From whose womb were you pushed?
From whose book were you trained?
From whose arms did you fly? 
From whose heart were you loved?
From whose lips were you called?
From whose breast were you soothed?
From whose fear did you flee?


To know is knowing.




Maureen Walsh - July 2012







Ciao for now!

Thursday, July 26, 2012

SCUPPERED......GARROTTED







SCUPPERED


Skein of familiarity.....
Skin-veneered canvas stretched over
Skull, too heavy for upright,
Scales and dips towards nourishing enemy
Schooled that way, the parching....cruel;
Scuppered yet by rotting tide.


Grain of sensibility.....
Grey-splattered lantern hangs inside
Groin, too smoking for alight,
Growls and yelps towards flourishing enemy
Groomed that way, the yearning....cruel;
Garrotted yet by stomping time.




Maureen Walsh - July 2012








Ciao for now!

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

THE SHED.....THE MAN.....SPANISH EYES




Maurice Weaver Nicholls
1928 - 2012



My father, Maurice passed away peacefully last Wednesday 4th July (American Independence Day… trust him !!!) After a long illness, bravely borne, he took his last independent breath with a glorious smile. We were grateful to be able to fulfill his wishes not to be in hospital and to care for him at home. He ended one journey and began another to the strains of my daughter, Emma humming his father’s favourite song, Danny Boy.


This is a poem I wrote for dad back in October 2010, that says everything I feel about the man; his love of his shed and his enthusiasm for life.



THE SHED

I love you so much,
I'd build you a shed.
A place to read comics,
And bury your head.

I'd learn how to fix,
Driving nails into wood; 
With hands carved in love, 
As a carpenter would.

I'd leave cracks in the roof,
You could spy on the stars,
Let your weary mind fly
Off to Pluto and Mars.

I'd set the stove blazing,
For your soul, for your hunger.
A space you can dream in,
Your hopes brighter ... longer.

I'd put in some tools there;
A plane and a lathe.
Your boat made ... set sail in, 
 Moored in moonlight, you'd bathe.

And then when YOU'RE ready,
I'll come to your bed.
And we'll look at the stars,
Through the eyes of that shed.



Maureen Walsh  - October 2010 ©






THIS SONG IS FOR YOU DAD AS YOU DANCE YOUR WAY THROUGH THE NEXT PART OF YOUR JOURNEY!






LOVE YOU DAD.........!!!




CIAO FOR NOW BABY