February 2, 2014

 

 

Saturday was a day to remember.

The Leader showed them the cultural scene.

Passing Bram Stoker’s home

and then onto St. Stephens Green.

 

They stopped for a pint in the Shelbourne,

then into Dublin’s smallest drinking den.

Before finding a bar with a telly,

to watch the footy – well, men will be men!

 

The girls went off to do some shopping,

saying ‘Can we stay out ‘till three?’

‘Oh, yes,’ cried the men with one voice,

while rubbing their hands with glee.

 

At last they could get down to business.

‘Another six pints of Guinness, good man’,

they shouted to the barman in eagerness.

‘This draught sure beats that in a can!’

 

The girls arrived back at three twenty,

thinking that they were so late.

But another game of footy had started,

so back out they went thinking, ‘Great!’

 

At teatime they walked along Grafton Street,

and stopped at Bewleys Tea Place.

Where they ordered sandwiches and coffee;

the day was still picking up pace.

 

In the evening they went to the Guinea Pig,

though they lost a ‘big brother’ on the way.

As one guy was still feeling very sick

and decided to call it a day.

 

The men soon got talking politics

and the world’s problems they did debate.

and decided to have some brandy,

when told that the taxi would be late.

 

Forgetting they’d lose an hour next day,

when all the clocks were put on.

They headed to a bar for a nightcap,

but one jumped in the lift, and was gone.

 

The Leader had been promised tickets

from a guy, who’d never let him down.

They were to meet him in the second carriage

of the next train heading for town.

 

This soon proved a journey to remember.

The passengers were crushed to bits,

One woman yelled: ‘You’re breaking my ribs!’

another screamed: ‘You’re squashing my tits!’

 

Each time they pulled into a station

the doors slid open and still more got on.

One of the girls nearly burst into tears,

as sadly, her bottle had gone.

 

The Leader came good with the tickets,

well, he got an all important two!

And with hindsight, for him and his best friend

it’d be a match they wouldn’t want to view.

 

They’d probably have developed heart failure,

or at least sunk in utter despair.

Because the game wasn’t so much a ‘walkover’,

as it was embarrassing beyond compare.

 

Two of them stood at the back of the stand

to avoid the inevitable squeeze.

Whilst others headed towards The Herbert Park,

for stew and Guinness to at least appease.

 

Some headed into the city,

to find a livelier spot.

And stumbled up the stairs to O’Neills,

into a room that was hotter than hot.

 

One poor guy was still feeling dodgy

and needed a place that was cool.

‘I could give all this lot twenty years!’

He thought, as he stood on a stool.

 

But age, in the end, didn’t matter.

as England won by a margin so clear.

And gave all the much travelled supporters

an excuse to down yet even more beer.

 

They then headed back to Mulligans

and ordered more beers and coke.

Where they met the Leader’s older brother,

who turned out to be one hell of a bloke.

 

He was just back from touring Australia

and he had an amazing grin.

Due to a plate of teeth made from titanium

that he said was almost ‘paper thin’.

 

The rest came in celebrating,

the unbelievable England win.

And ribbed the Irish unmercifully

but they took it well, on the chin.

 

Then they caught the train back to the hotel,

including the brother and the best friend.

At least they could commiserate together,

a sorrow shared, by good pals til the end.

 

The group then collected their cases.

Their adventure was over and done.

They agreed the weekend had been terrific,

and best of all – England had won!

 

 

 

 

January 29, 2014

 

 

It’s hard for me to speak,

just as it is for you.

I nurse your heartache

and feel so helpless too.

 

No pearls of wisdom

ever seem right,

at this sorry time

of unforeseen plight.

 

No words of sorrow

can I at this point convey,

without a lump in my throat,

though, for Merlin, I pray.

 

Your hurt runs deep,

your suffering is raw.

No more can you stroke

his soft, gentle paw.

 

So alive was he,

and then within a week,

he rendered us all,

unable to speak.

 

And although you know

you must carry on,

and love those still needy,

left behind, now he is gone..

 

And though your heart is huge,

and there’s a special place,

where Merlin lives on forever,

as his memory you embrace.

 

And in time when your pain

will be easier to bear,

as you sense his presence,

near to his favourite chair.

 

 And just like all the others

who have gone before,

you’ll feel enriched by the knowledge,

he’s laid to rest near your door.

 

But all this doesn’t help you now,

for your tears refuse to dry,

and even when mourning’s complete,

you’ll still ask the question ‘Why’?

 

Merlin didn’t deserve his end,

he’d been full of life at seven,

But God needed him by his side,

so took his soul up to heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

How good it feels to be alive;

to open eyes and see the sky.

And know that through the night I slept,

surviving dreams in which I wept.

 

How good it feels to be on earth;

safe in a place that was my birth.

And be surrounded by those most dear,

surviving sleeps most dreaded fear.

 

 

 

 

Much stronger than any union,

is the good wives establishment.

Behind every successful man, is,

the spine of the family, cast in cement.

 

A solid force, who keeps on giving,

and who’s job gets harder with time.

Who sees off hungry predators,

and desperado’s out of their prime.

 

The good wife, always foreboding,

and the operator of the moat.

The one with the brain to sense danger,

and step in, to rescue the silly old goat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be silent child.

I am the judge.

My word is law.

I will not budge.

 

Oh teach me child.

Give me a nudge.

In sweet repose,

Bear me no grudge.

 

 

 

 

 

He was a cat who voiced his opinion.

He would screech to show his dismay.

The most bossiest of cats in all the land,

was the one who once came to stay.

 

He patrolled the house like an army major.

He had all our nerves in disarray.

A more disgruntled cat was there never,

than enchantingly gorgeous Mr Dubonnet

 

 

 

 

 

The drive;

The determination,

to succeed when so

near to the brink.

 

The laugh;

The satisfaction,

in being more intuitive

than they think.

 

 

 

 

The best way to spread a secret,

is to entrust it to just one,

who in turn will tell another,

who will then pass it on to someone.

 

As it travels it gathers momentum,

becoming far fetched and out of control,

and before you know it, it’s world news,

but will have lost it’s original soul.

 

 

 

 

With no lapses in time,

or thoughts, a chance to gather,

decisions were made,

which got them into a lather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They dangle and they tantalise,

and sparkle as we fantasise.

But when night-time falls we realise,

our dreams may never crystallise.

 

For in this game of lows and highs,

we are no longer taken, by surprise.

We must trust that only sense applies,

and truth will come without compromise.

 

 

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