Archives for posts with tag: Dublin

Magnolia blooms –

My Mother’s garden renews ~

‘Sure that soil is spent’

Her mother famously said –

She was gloriously wrong.


A marble fireplace –

Anastomosing patterns ~

Long since understood.

(For Dave Johnston, a great teacher)

Victorian Pub –

Stories stored in its timber ~

Nice curve on that bar.

Snow melts to filthy –

Carrot, patio marooned ~

And yet, we made him.

Take the tram to town –
A pierced girl stands by the door ~
She’s reading Homer. 

Opening a door –
Nothing waiting to bite you ~
Nothing to harm you. 


To the Motherland for a while –
It is clear that I must visit the Sea –

Pick up the familiar clasts and cast them into the surf –

The headlands that I can trace in my sleep, as familiar as the back of my hands (changing with age, wind and sun) –

The sound of the waves, hypnotic and addictive, never easy to leave –

Easier knowing they will always be there, indeed there will always be an Ireland, long after we are all gone.


Opening a book – 

Your city, coming to life ~ 

The world entire.


Place I return to –
Why? Nothing is there, nothing ~
Ev’rything is there.

Take a Dublinbike –
Early for the next meeting ~
Time by the canal.


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