Monday, April 20, 2015


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THE FINAL WHISTLE


Ruddy face chastened by Northerly wind;
Wind that spurs army of woolly warriors to be led,
Led not pushed with gentle calm upwards;
Upwards towards the grassy level before the lake.
Lake where the lady lures men down, deep to love.
Love? The girl from the blue house, bottom of the boreen;
Boreen filled with the smell and white of Hawthorn;
Hawthorn, where he should have kissed Moll's full red lips.
Lips that kissed, then married his best friend Paddy; 
Paddy who left the Glen and farming to become a garda.
Garda uniform and he was handsome with a house as well.
Well for them now, with their two girls, and one boy
Boy, awkward, but won with a smile very same as his mother's. 
'Mother's getting too much these days,' and cap off, he scratches
Scratches a balding head bowed by hard work and despair;
Despair around decisions, and moments never seized.
Seized by a crushing pain in chest, he calls the final whistle.
Whistle, in his pocket pinned between his heart and rock;
Rock where Joe played many an air, and Shep his dog would sleep.
Sleep Joe, your turn now: Shep, your friend will guard your sheep. 



Maureen Walsh - April 2015



Image result for old shepherd


I'M THINKING THE WORLD COULD DO WITH A GOOD SHEPHERD RIGHT NOW.....ONE THAT LEADS RATHER THAN PUSHES!


Ciao for now!

Saturday, April 18, 2015

BABIES, BANKERS AND BANDITS




BABIES, BANKERS AND BANDITS


Babies thriving through bottle or breast.
Bankers survive by destroying youths' nests;
Bandits' causes killing kids with the rest




Maureen Walsh - April 2015

 
 
 
 
Ciao for now!