Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Saturday, June 11, 2005
First Annual Report
GERRY CORR
A year on, my love,
A year since we parted,
You to the prayer-wrapped unknown,
Me to a cell called freedom
In your place I have memory,
A stingy usurper
Dispensing crumbs
From the banquet of your table
...
Your light is on dim now, my love,
Yet blinding flashes of you
Startle me awake
From the barren limbo of dreams,
You'll be pleased God is back.
He left when you died.
Went a.w.o.l.
Like He'd been found out
Not having the answers
And permitting instead a soothing indulgence:
Why hast thou forsaken me
....
That's about it for now, my dear,
Except to say the blubbering is ceased
And sorrow's sickly syrup of self
Expunged from the menu
Well...in hope and in prayer, that is,
My love
(From the book voices and poetry of ireland. Thanks Paul and Rose.)
A year on, my love,
A year since we parted,
You to the prayer-wrapped unknown,
Me to a cell called freedom
In your place I have memory,
A stingy usurper
Dispensing crumbs
From the banquet of your table
...
Your light is on dim now, my love,
Yet blinding flashes of you
Startle me awake
From the barren limbo of dreams,
You'll be pleased God is back.
He left when you died.
Went a.w.o.l.
Like He'd been found out
Not having the answers
And permitting instead a soothing indulgence:
Why hast thou forsaken me
....
That's about it for now, my dear,
Except to say the blubbering is ceased
And sorrow's sickly syrup of self
Expunged from the menu
Well...in hope and in prayer, that is,
My love
(From the book voices and poetry of ireland. Thanks Paul and Rose.)
Friday, May 27, 2005
A Kind of Trust
BRENDAN KENNELLY
I am happy now.
You rose from your sick bed
After three weeks. Your heart was low
When the world grew small,
A white ceiling
And four yellow walls.
Let me say again what this means
To me. As far as I know
Love always begins
Like a white morning
Of seagulls near the window,
Messengers bringing
Word that we must up and out
Into the small garden
Where there are late
Apples we shall find
So ripe that the slightest touch
Will pitch them to the ground.
Best things seem content to fall and fail.
I am not good enough for that.
I fight the drag and pull
Of any kind of dying
And bitterly insist
On that white morning
When you weakly climb the stairs,
Letting new life reach you like a gift
There at the brown bannister.
I do not insist
Out of panic or vague dread
But out of a kind of trust
In this beginning
With late apples and early seagulls
And a young sun shining
When you let cold water flow into a cup,
Steady yourself between two chairs
And stand straight up.
(From the book voices and poetry of ireland. Thanks Paul and Rose.)
I am happy now.
You rose from your sick bed
After three weeks. Your heart was low
When the world grew small,
A white ceiling
And four yellow walls.
Let me say again what this means
To me. As far as I know
Love always begins
Like a white morning
Of seagulls near the window,
Messengers bringing
Word that we must up and out
Into the small garden
Where there are late
Apples we shall find
So ripe that the slightest touch
Will pitch them to the ground.
Best things seem content to fall and fail.
I am not good enough for that.
I fight the drag and pull
Of any kind of dying
And bitterly insist
On that white morning
When you weakly climb the stairs,
Letting new life reach you like a gift
There at the brown bannister.
I do not insist
Out of panic or vague dread
But out of a kind of trust
In this beginning
With late apples and early seagulls
And a young sun shining
When you let cold water flow into a cup,
Steady yourself between two chairs
And stand straight up.
(From the book voices and poetry of ireland. Thanks Paul and Rose.)
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
This is the type of campervan we hope to be using during our upcoming trip to Europe. It was booked through www.ideamerge.com, who really impressed me with their service.
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