Friendly Berliner –
On the U-Bahn ~ gives the nod:
Our stop for the Zoo.


Big statements abound –
Muscular architecture –
Echoes of Empire.


…and return again –
Enjoy grazing through the streets –
Foie Gras white wine brunch.


Markets in hangers –
That once housed big zeppelins ~
Many worlds since then.


Viennese manners –
Pianist plays ‘Danny Boy’ –
For us, at least thrice.


In Sisi’s garden –
Unsure about Achilles –
Mystery of Greece.


A pleasant aspect –
Neo-Hanseatic hub –
Remember Narva…


Little limestone blocks –
Carefully shaped, white paving –
Grander than an arch.


Christiania –
Bikes of sensible design –
The Children up front.


The most shocking news:
A pond with some dumped plastic –
Evening headlines.


The mad tourist crowd –
Buzzing on the Rialto –
My wife is asleep.


Morning sun on trees –
Yellow, brown leaves ~ tiny flies –
Take their time, also.

Winter Dublin Sun –
Brass Monkey weather, again ~
Mischief in the air…

Spring-feel of the place –
Low bright Sun, red bricks ~ Her light –
Cold-warmth of the place.

By the Grand Canal –
Birdsong, less sweet humansong ~
Very salty chips.

Little crucible:
An offering to the gods ~
Mountains, city, coast.

Project Ends. Twelve Months of Thematic Poetry – March 2011 – February 2012. ┬ęDuncan Cleary. Thanks for watching.


Grateful acceptance of Perfect Poets Award for week 64 of Thursday Poets Rally.”>

I wish to nominate James Meredith for the next award:

Great Uncle

Here is the sound
of the door opening, and the oldest family home
becoming part of your life.

Here is the sound
of opera, played loudly
in the basement in Harold’s Cross.

Here is the sound
of a cane clattering down the stairs
pre-arranged announcement that he was ready
to have his hair cut in the best barber in Dublin, Westmoreland Street.

Here is the sound of the fire engine
When they thought he had died over his tempura, South Great George’s Street
and the sound of relief, when he woke again
‘No Mr. Sheeran, there is no need to pay the bill today, we are just happy that you are ok.’

Here is the sound
Of a man telling you about your great great uncles
who survived Somme, Dardanelles, Independence, but not the sea.

Here is the sound of Glasgow 1938
and your grandfather, on a skite
with his brother-in-law.

Here is the sound of the camera,
Clicking to record a moment
a moment in a long life.

Here is the voice
recorded on a tape, just thoughts
of a man alone.

Here is the sound of breath
and a heartbeat, that has persisted.
Here is the sound of silence.

He is at the door:
Resplendent and welcoming ~
Here is The Sound of Life.

For John Gerard Sheeran, 1912-2011. R.I.P.