Irish road signs explained!

The road sign below is a pleasant reminder that the best way to find your way around Ireland is to…..well…err….ignore the road signs! Reminded me of something me mum once said which was based on her experience of growing up in rural north Donegal. And when I say rural, I mean rural. When a stranger asks you how to get from here to there, the response always being the same, wherever you are, whoever you are:

“Well sir/madam…you go straight down that road and that will take you wherever you want to get to.” Now this may sound funny, unhelpful or even spiritual depending on where you are coming from, or in this case, going to. But I can assure you dear reader; the directions were uttered with 100 per cent sincerity!

Anyone who can guess correctly where this particular signpost is situated wins a FREE compass and a 12 month subscription to ‘Unhelpful Irish erections daily’. Closing date to be announced so watch this space folks.

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WTF?! Is this a WiFi wet spot???

Tart Area Rapid Transport (TART)

Saw an Irish tart,
Located at a Dublin DART station.
Shouted abuse,
And a curse of damnation.
Penance for cheap titillation.

If her arse stuck out anymore,
A daytime eclipse would surely obscure!
Even Molly Mallone would have blushed.
But alas, this ego had all but been crushed.

10th October 2000

DART train.
DART train

Homeward

To those of us who have strolled through fertile corridors,
And wondered how this world came to be,
Her sounds of freshness greet each passing action,
The sweet air restores lustre to my being,
As animal world springs to life to remind us of her glory.

Hindered by another world that waits impatiently to consume me,
Tainted; burdened by mankind’s greed and folly.
Tired and exhausted am I from frantic urban pace,
Its squalid queues, smells and other crimes,
Lead thee to yet more broken hearts.

Like lemmings bruising down the highway,
Only for yet more wasteful starts.
From that Monday-Friday drudgery they call modern ‘living’,
Thereof breed hedged cities, malls and urban sprawl,
Nurturing city satellites for headless urbanites to brawl.

Uproot them for rural splendour,
So once again, creatures of God can freely crawl.

December 1995

Sky Fire

Part I

Sheets of fire
Rolled red across the sky.
Shrouding a sparkled ceiling; blue.
Nautical landscape; inverted.
The winter moon is hers,
Not the Zodiac’s; terse.
Red ribbons of moistened light,
Streak across the cold horizon.
A bitter light, bold and brazen.

Part II

Stars to throw
Up into the sky,
Falling around me.
Making me dizzy,
And the night mist; sparkly.
Colour festival,
Exploding light, into the night.
My face beams a smile,
Brimming with delight.
Like party glitter,
Against a chill; bitter.
I spend and fritter.
Angel of the dark,
She ignites a dormant spark.

Part III

Stars in my hand,
As I glide on gold sand.
Those stars, like gel.
Keep me from hell.
Because you’re up there,
I know I’m here.
Wide horizons beckon,
They birth dreams
I have slept on.
Heaven sheds a tear
Into my mortal sphere.

Dublin, December 1998

Winter Bay

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Shadows streak across rippled sand, Etching patterns on the land. Palm trees dance as silhouettes, Led by a mild winter breeze Carved by what the journeyman sees. In a storm, he lets out a howl And the bayside dogs Can … Continue reading

Garden Spirit

The garden lawn, clean shaven and freshly mown.
Reflects the shadows of birds,
From where they’ve skimmed and fancifully flown.
An audacious pair of Robins red,
Dance before me, by their nesting bed.

Under dead grass, the top now revealed,
The moist green grass it once concealed.
Is that what lies under my skin?
Burgeoning youth trapped within.

I rest my head amongst evergreen,
To taste a life not yet forseen.
The trees and bushes we must control,
Else darkness clouds the lawn’s green soul.

For sun and shadow creep from one end t’other,
Shifting light across Earth, our Mother.
Through the course of just one summer’s day,
We see past, present, and then,
Come what may.

9th June 1998

Cry of the Ocean

Do you remember the beach?
Exploring the shoreline for treasure.
You picked up a seashell
And through its cavernous opening
You were invited to explore the ocean’s mystery.

Its dreams unravel a mythical journey
Exciting the infant’s imagination.
This magical story unfolds in your palm
As you gazed out at its vastness.
At that precise moment;
There you are.

Have you ever listened to the voice of the ocean?
Today, her cries grow louder.
Tormented echoes are being sent
Through rising currents
And her aquatic kin;
The dolphin and the whale.
Their ancient and peaceful rhythms disturbed.

From the depths of the ocean
Comes a message
Vociferous in emotion.
On those gallant white horses
Rides a pseudo exclamation.

Toxicity slithers in the ether
Poisoning the soul within her.
Carried by her majestic waves
Sent to overpower prosperity’s slaves.

Trading madness for stillness
We add to her illness.
In man’s haste to consume
Our homelands,
She will slowly subsume.

Humanity and insanity
An approach we must trade
Else the portent of Armageddon
Will be horrifically played.

Deafened by greed,
Man is hurtling
Toward death and destruction.
Do not be deceived.
‘Prosperity’ is a seductive dark cloak
Worn by the devil.

Rising tide of danger.

Swollen by melting ice.
Extinction will be the price.

The planet is in pain
Through drought and rain,
Let us pray
For her watery spirit.
And that those cries
Don’t grow too faint.

Should icy blood drip from her poles
The ocean’s new chorus to the cosmos
Will resonate
Please God
Save all Our Souls.

When you cannot listen to the ocean
You are not.

7th December 2000

Ashridge

A place in my heart,
Where common land marks the start.
The lone beech tree almost hidden,
Around it, tracks have been ridden.
The bank of trees standing nearby,
And dappled light from the summer sky.
From the roadside to the field,
A good many memories does this track yield.
My dog’s musings still echo.
As do picnics, walks and other assorted capers.
I can still walk lightly through the glade,
From the dawn of spring
through mid winter and evening shade.

 

22nd February 1998

Bluebells in Ashridge Forest

Skyrian Moon

Oh beautiful moon child,
Sleeping in the Agean sky.
Comforted by a silky
Sheepish cloud.
Revealing light through its
Midnight shroud.

Lighting up a path to a
Secret cave.
Cavernous and serene.
Tonight, home to our dreams.

6th October 2000