Wednesday, October 29, 2014



Dusty feet on an unmapped road.
Wasps patrol for one last sting
Dampened senses singed by gold 
And Summer's last rose in final fling. 

Weary legs on that unmapped road
Clustered berries and blackened lips
Paling memories fueled by cold
And the wine of Summer that Autumn sips.

Maureen Walsh - October 2014

Ciao for now!

Tuesday, October 28, 2014


Pulling deeply on a Marlboro, Lou leaned against the soft drinks machine under the escalator, and waited. Any moment now, through a halo of smoke, she would appear.

He had fallen in love with her, two weeks ago, in the cafe across from Bourke's hardware; and all within the time it took to bend down to pick up the spoon she had dropped at the check-out. He got there before she did, and as he raised his head and the rest of his lean body, he no longer felt the floor beneath his feet, for he was floating, and so was she, as the rest of the queue remained anchored several miles below. Red hair, red lips and red dress spent a lifetime with him in those twenty seconds. 'Thank you,' she smiled, as her fingers brushed his, to retrieve the spoon, and then drifted towards a window seat. He sat well away, in a corner under a Klimt print, so that he could watch how she did the little things: like stir her coffee; check her phone; pull down the hem of her dress over her knees; then fumble in her handbag to  refresh her red lipstick . She was of the sun; of that there was no doubt, and he would love her like only the moon could, if she smiled at him again. Would you care for a top-up, sir?' splintered the waiter. During this distraction, she had left and he stumbled over to the window and saw her on the edge of  the sidewalk, waving to someone across the street. Lou took in every physical aspect of the man now crossing towards her in front of a snarling line of cars and cabs, stuck on red. The intruder stopped and stood in front of her. He moved his head a little to the right,to look at her, and raising cuff-linked arms, he sighed. Then drawing her red into him, the usurper swept her away into his greyness.  .

Two evenings later and bored with his article: 'Obama is an Alien', Lou decided he needed a drink.... several actually, and left the office early. He hated the sub-way at this hour, but he couldn't take another 'frigging' word out of that prick's moaning mouth. Why couldn't his boss say 'fucking' like everybody else. He picked up some cigarettes at the drugstore next to the subway. Shuffling along, slowly, behind a class of field-tripping Junior High School kids, his irritation was overtaken by a rush of red hope. Twenty or so subway steps beneath him, he caught sight of the red hair. He battled his way through the over-excited children and there she was again, carrying a briefcase next to her green. She reached level ground several seconds before him. Once he landed, there were no more flashes of green or red....only the greyness of strangers. 

Pulling deeply on a Marlboro, Lou leaned against the soft drinks machine under the escalator, and waited. Any moment now, through a halo of smoke, he would see her, and the sun would smile at the moon again..

Maureen Walsh - October 2014

Ciao for now!


Friday, October 17, 2014


That time of year again....memories of Kenneth Grahame's wonderful book, Wind in the Willows. Autumn.... a time for winds and rain; a time for our animal friends to scurry here and there foraging for fruit and nuts in readiness for the long winter's sleep; a time for pruning back shrubs and trees, so they too can rest.



It is time for Autumn winds to have their say
And for us to heed their call for change,

Autumn pays a visit to the curtseying willow tree
Where once they lay together on a veil of love and leaves.
Autumn's come a-calling to the sturdy Irish Lime
Where once he vowed to love her til the very end of time.

Curl up now and sleep my wee one,
Don't wake up til the Winter's gone.

Did you ever catch the cackle of a witch upon the wind?
Or glimpse her pointed features, painted yellow on the moon?

An acorn given to another....
A promise of unerring love.

Maureen Walsh - October 2014

 Glorious Autumn....I love it....a time to celebrate nature's be cozy and warm.

And speaking of Autumn, willows and love, please listen to this wonderful recording from 1962 of American soprano Beverly Sills singing The Willow Song from Baby Doe. 

Ciao for now!

Wednesday, October 15, 2014


Well the cast came off my left wrist today after 6 and a half weeks of not only being able to swim or get up to my normal aquatic antics during my two week sun holiday, type, wash or brush my hair properly, or unscrew jars etc etc., but the worst thing of all was that I wasn't able to THINK either. I'm typing again but with some pain and discomfort, but after all that it looks as if the tendon to my thumb, which is sort of hanging, has been ruptured, and according to the doctor today, will more than likely require an operation to sort it out. I got back to my car, lit a cigarette and sat there for at least twenty minutes with rain slashing the windscreen.....and cried. It was the 'THINKING' I was in mourning for. I have been at sixes and sevens for weeks and being born in the Chinese Year of the Horse, I was chomping at the bit to get back on track, Breaking a couple of bones in my foot about 10 years ago had been strangely less invasive. So what is going on?

I tried to give myself a kick in the ass while I sat there with the wipers on, by telling myself  I was being ridiculous but the tears came anyway. I eventually switched on the engine and drove home, deciding that a walk in the rain would probably provide the right medicine. As I drove, I thought again about the poor victims of Ebola. They have been very much on my mind over the last while and I can't help thinking that there is so much talk about keeping the killer disease out of OUR space, OUR lives, but very little talk about the individual suffering of the poor people that have contracted it. I listened to a representative from the Charity GOAL on RTE radio yesterday, who said they are looking for medical and logistical volunteers to help with the chaos in the affected parts of Africa and wished I wasn't so damn scared. If everyone was scared, nothing would ever happen to help these poor people. This makes me feel ashamed and guilty.

I might have to have an operation to fix my wrist and my thumb, but I haven't got Ebola.

I'm one of the lucky ones!

ciao for now